“You still have those?”
“Skin heals slowly when you get old.”
Isaiah did not smile.
Marcus sat.
The boy looked toward him.
“They showed the video at school.”
Marcus exhaled.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“Because you shouldn’t have to watch that.”
Isaiah’s face tightened.
“You didn’t do anything.”
“I know.”
“Then stop apologizing.”
Marcus smiled faintly.
“You sound like your mother.”
“Good.”
Silence.
Then Isaiah asked, “Did it hurt?”
Marcus considered lying.
“No point in insulting both of them with the same mistake.
“Yes.”
His son looked down.
“Were you scared?”
“Not of Caldwell.”
“What then?”
Marcus leaned back.
“I was scared of how normal everyone acted.”
Isaiah looked at him.
Marcus continued.
“If one bad officer does something wrong, you have a bad officer.”
“If twenty people believe they cannot stop him…”
He paused.
“You have a system.”
Isaiah stared.
“Can you fix it?”
Marcus looked toward Patrice’s photograph on the shelf.
“I don’t know.”
His son seemed surprised.
“You’re the chief.”
“That doesn’t make me magic.”
“What if you can’t?”
Marcus thought.
“Then I leave a record of what was broken so the next person can’t honestly claim they never knew.”
Isaiah nodded slowly.
Marcus put an arm around him.
His son leaned against him despite being too old.
For a minute, Marcus let himself be only a father.
The next morning brought the case that changed everything.
A records clerk named Melissa Dane asked to meet privately.
She entered Marcus’s office carrying no files.
Only a key.
Small brass key.
She placed it on his desk.
“What is this?”
“Basement records room B.”
Marcus frowned.
“There is no room B on the building plan.”
“I know.”
Marcus looked toward Alvarez.
She had been included in the meeting.
Melissa’s hands shook.
“It used to be equipment storage.”
“Vance had the label removed from the map after renovation.”
“What’s inside?”
Melissa’s eyes filled.
“Complaints.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“Hundreds.”
Marcus stared.
“What kind?”
“The ones we were told not to scan.”
The room became silent.
Melissa continued.
“When civilians filed complaints, they were supposed to be entered into RMS.”
“Records management system.”
“Yes.”
“But sometimes Professional Standards sent forms back with a red dot.”
Marcus frowned.
“A red dot?”
“Top corner.”
“What did that mean?”
“Do not enter electronically.”
“Who gave that instruction?”
Melissa swallowed.
“Lieutenant Rourke.”
“And who did he say it came from?”
She looked toward the door.
“Deputy Chief Vance.”
Marcus stood.
“Why keep the paper?”
“State retention law.”
Melissa gave a bitter smile.