Ramirez was older than Thomas and had worked event security before joining the bank's contractor. She moved beside David rather than directly in front of him, leaving him a clear path to the restroom and water station. "I haven't seen you threaten anyone," she said in a voice meant only for him. David nodded, appreciative but unwilling to forget that she had arrived after the worst of the confrontation. "Then please make sure your incident report says that," he replied.
He understood why Thomas had been uncertain. Security staff were often placed between angry customers and managers with authority over the workplace, expected to act quickly while receiving incomplete information. That did not make their mistakes harmless, and he knew the incident would require a review of how they had been trained. But he was determined that the guard's job title would not become a substitute for the person responsible for setting the check on fire. Marcus had made a deliberate choice with a lighter in his hand, in front of people who urged him to stop.
At 2:51, Marcus resumed addressing the crowd. He spoke about standards and vigilance, claiming that he had preserved the integrity of the banking system by destroying a suspicious instrument. The contradictions in his speech were obvious to anyone willing to listen. He could not both destroy possible evidence and preserve it, and a check could not become counterfeit merely because he preferred the explanation. Yet the applause of Eleanor Price and two men near the investment desk encouraged him to continue.
"Maybe you should call the fraud department," a voice suggested from the back. Marcus turned toward a middle-aged customer who had been waiting to discuss a mortgage payment. "I am the fraud department today," he declared, earning another nervous laugh. Sarah closed her eyes for a moment, then typed the exact words into the incident notes she had started recording. She understood that remembering them later would be difficult if the bank tried to turn the event into a misunderstanding between two equally unreasonable people.
David watched the crowd carefully. Some faces expressed clear pleasure, and others looked away with the distinctive discomfort of people who wanted someone else to intervene. A young Black man in a delivery uniform had moved toward the door, holding his deposit envelope so tightly that it bent. David wondered what he was thinking. Perhaps he had been treated badly before and was calculating whether returning another day might be safer, even if his bills would not wait. That possibility troubled David more than the photographs strangers were taking of his shoes.