The distinction mattered. Marcus had seen bad leaders destroy legitimate cases by trying to punish first and investigate later. If Reigns was corrupt, shortcuts would only give him defenses. If he was not, the same process protected him. The officers dispersed slowly.
Marcus entered the captain's office for the first time as its occupant at 7:12 a.m. It smelled faintly of stale coffee and furniture polish. Two cardboard boxes containing his files sat unopened near a bookshelf, and somebody had placed a small potted plant on the windowsill beside a printed welcome card from city administration. He had imagined a quiet hour there before his first briefing. Instead, he called Lieutenant Andrea Hayes from Internal Affairs.
Hayes arrived twenty minutes later, accompanied by Detective Sarah Kim, an investigator from the city's Professional Standards Unit who reported through a separate chain for cases involving command staff. Marcus knew neither woman personally beyond reading their personnel summaries during his hiring process. That was useful. He gave them the sealed evidence envelope, the incident number, and his handwritten timeline. Then he stepped away from the investigative side of the case.
"Because I am the complainant," he said, "I do not want to direct witness interviews, evidence analysis, or disciplinary recommendations. My command authority should be limited to safety, staffing, and preservation orders unless the city attorney tells us otherwise."
Hayes studied him for a moment. "That's the correct approach."
"I want this clean. If Officer Reigns did what I heard him do, I don't want his attorney arguing I used my rank to manufacture the outcome."
Kim picked up the sealed recorder. "We'll image the audio, preserve the original, and document every access. The body-camera unit will be handled separately."
"Check the patrol-car audio too."
"Already requested."
Marcus hesitated. "There's one more thing." He described how Reigns shifted position whenever he said something especially improper, moving away from the patrol car's likely microphone range.
Kim wrote it down. "That suggests familiarity with the equipment. It doesn't prove intent, but it's worth comparing against prior stops." Prior stops. The phrase stayed with Marcus.
At 8:05 a.m., only five minutes later than planned, Marcus stood before the department's command staff in the large briefing room. There were no balloons, no applause, and no attempt to pretend the morning had been normal. Deputy Chief Harold Morrison sat in the first row, a tall man in his late fifties with silver hair and a career built entirely inside Westbridge. Around him were lieutenants, sergeants, detectives, training officers, and administrative supervisors. Marcus set his prepared welcome speech on the lectern.
Then he folded it closed.
"I had planned to talk this morning about trust," he began. "That word gets used so often in policing that we sometimes stop hearing what it means. Trust from the public. Trust between officers. Trust between patrol and command. Trust that a supervisor will back you when you act lawfully, and trust that the same supervisor will stop you when you do not."
The room was very still.
"An allegation involving serious misconduct occurred before I arrived this morning. Because I am directly involved, an independent internal review has been opened. I will not discuss facts that belong to that review, and I will not ask anyone in this department to decide guilt through rumor."
Several eyes shifted toward the empty seat where Reigns would normally have sat.
"What I will tell you is this: accountability is not anti-police. Working cameras are not anti-police. Accurate reports are not anti-police. Preserving evidence is not anti-police. If you did your job correctly, documentation is your friend. If you made a good-faith mistake, documentation gives us the chance to understand it."
Marcus paused.
"If you deliberately abused your authority, documentation is how we protect everyone else from you."
The sentence landed harder than the speech he had planned.
He spent the next hour discussing ordinary operations: staffing shortages, response times, training schedules, complaint intake, and overtime. He asked more questions than he answered. When supervisors identified problems, he wrote down names and follow-up points instead of promising instant fixes. The department needed to see that the scandal would not erase the ordinary work of command.
At 9:26, after the briefing ended, Deputy Chief Morrison followed him back to the captain's office.
"That was a hell of a first morning," Morrison said.
"I've had quieter."