"That sounds exactly like him."
Raymond smiled.
"He'd make me replace words like 'obviously' and 'clearly' because he said the evidence ought to speak without us telling readers how impressed they should be."
Mariah looked toward the crowd.
"Did that ever annoy you?"
"Constantly."
They laughed.
Then Raymond's expression softened.
"But he was usually right."
Mariah nodded.
Raymond took a sip of coffee.
"After the case, people kept asking him whether he felt powerful when the state investigators walked through that door."
"What did he say?"
"He told them his shoulder hurt, his wrists were swollen, and he would've preferred to be left alone with his newspaper."
Mariah smiled sadly.
"That's Aaron."
Raymond looked at her.
"People forget that he wasn't enjoying any of it."
"I know."
"They remember the chief looking frightened. They remember the handcuffs coming off. They remember the big reveal."
He lowered his voice.
"But Aaron remembered being shoved against a counter by a man who could have seriously injured him."
Mariah glanced toward the windows.
Raymond continued.
"He never wanted anybody to think the solution was having a powerful title hidden in your pocket."
"I think that's why he hated the video edits."
Raymond nodded.
"Especially the ones that made it look as if investigators magically appeared because somebody recognized his name."
Mariah turned toward him.
"That wasn't how it happened."
"No. We had been working on Ridgemont for years. The café was an authorized observation site. The response was already planned for an escalation."
He looked toward the photograph.
"Your uncle always corrected the mythology, even when the mythology made him look more impressive."
Mariah smiled.
"He used to correct everybody's stories."
"Yes, he did."
Raymond took another sip of coffee.
"And I hope somebody keeps doing that."
Near the back of the hall sat Brenda Sullivan.
She had traveled from a retirement community nearly two hours away.
At seventy-seven, her once-dark hair was almost entirely white, and she walked with a cane. Her clothes were modest: navy trousers, a pale-gray blouse, and a cardigan that she kept buttoned despite the warm room.
She had debated whether to attend.
After all, she had been the officer standing beside Chief Gerald Thornton when Aaron was shoved, handcuffed, and accused of trespassing inside Common Grounds.
She had questioned the chief.
But she had not stopped him.
The independent investigation had recognized her cooperation while also finding that she had failed to intervene as early and decisively as she should have.
She had accepted disciplinary consequences and completed additional training.