She opened her eyes.
The federal supervisor continued.
“You are not touching this part of the case.”
“I know.”
“I mean it.”
“I said I know.”
“You're a witness now.”
“And the lead attorney on the department review.”
“Not on your own incident.”
She tightened her jaw.
He knew her too well.
If he left an opening, she would spend the next twelve hours building the evidentiary chronology herself.
He continued.
“Another attorney handles this stop.”
“Fine.”
“Internal affairs will receive preservation notice.”
“Fine.”
“You'll provide a witness statement.”
“Fine.”
“You sound very reasonable.”
“I am trying not to say something unreasonable.”
“That is why somebody else is handling it.”
She almost smiled.
Then her shoulder throbbed.
The smile disappeared.
Her supervisor asked:
“Did they clear you medically?”
“Soft-tissue strain.”
“Imaging?”
“Negative.”
“Wrist?”
“Superficial.”
“You going home?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She started to end the call.
Then he said:
“One more thing.”
“What?”
“The original suspicious-person call.”
Her body went still again.
“What about it?”
“We pulled the audio.”
“And?”
Her supervisor exhaled.
“The caller never said you touched a car.”
The attorney stared at the door.
“What did the caller say?”
“Black woman. Light-colored workout clothes. Standing near parked vehicles. Looking around.”
“That’s it?”
“That's it.”
“No door handles?”
“No.”
“No attempted entry?”
“No.”
“No package?”
“No.”
“No theft?”
“No.”
“No weapon?”
“No.”
The attorney felt something in her chest harden.
The lead officer had told the lieutenant the call involved possible vehicle tampering.
That detail did not come from dispatch.
“Who added vehicle tampering?”
“We're checking.”
She looked down at her wrists.
“Caller identity?”
“Anonymous through the nonemergency line.”
“Traceable?”
“Probably.”
Her supervisor hesitated.
“That isn't the interesting part.”
She looked up.
“What is?”
“The call entered the system at 9:14.”
“Yes.”
“Dispatch assigned it at 9:16.”
“Yes.”
“The lead officer's body camera activates at 9:18.”
She waited.
Her supervisor continued.
“His department phone received a text at 9:11.”
Three minutes before the anonymous call.
The attorney stopped breathing for half a second.
“From who?”
“We don't know yet.”
“Content?”
“Deleted.”
Now she sat completely still.
“Recovered?”
“Working on it.”
“Was the sender inside the department?”
“Possibly.”
Her supervisor lowered his voice.
“Your stop may not have been random.”
The attorney stared at her cream running shoes.
The physician had placed one shoelace in a loose knot after examining her ankle because her hands had been trembling too much to do it herself.
For almost an hour, she had been angry because a white patrol officer had seen a Black woman running in an affluent neighborhood and decided suspicion was enough.
That possibility remained.
But now another possibility appeared beside it.
Someone may have known who she was.
Someone may have known she was part of the federal review.
Someone may have pointed an aggressive officer toward her without telling him why.
Her supervisor said:
“Do not call anyone.”
“I wasn't going to.”
“Do not text the lieutenant.”
“I wasn't going to.”
“Do not drive back to the street.”
She paused.
“You were thinking about it.”