“Were they in Miss Winters's case?”
James looked down.
“I don't believe we adequately integrated that information.”
“Why not?”
“Different departments maintained different reporting systems.”
Jordan paused.
“Did that prevent complaints from being reviewed?”
“No.”
“Then what did it prevent?”
James took a breath.
“It made it easier to look at individual metrics without understanding their combined effect.”
The answer was quieter than the ones before.
But it was important.
Jordan continued.
“When you entered the branch on March fourteenth, did you recognize Brandon Coleman?”
“Yes.”
“Immediately?”
“Almost immediately.”
“And what did you say?”
“Mr. Coleman.”
“Then?”
James paused.
“Sir.”
“Why?”
“Because I was addressing him respectfully.”
Jordan looked at him.
“Had he been entitled to respectful treatment before you recognized him?”
“Of course.”
“Did he receive it?”
“No.”
“Did you initially question whether your manager might have been justified?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I trusted her professional judgment.”
“Before hearing Mr. Coleman's explanation?”
James looked uncomfortable.
“Yes.”
Jordan let the answer settle.
Then asked, “If you had not recognized him, what would you have done?”
James stared at the table.
“I hope I would have investigated fairly.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
“I know.”
“Would your first words to him have carried the same respect?”
James was silent.
Jordan waited.
Finally James answered.
“I don't know.”
The room became still.
Jordan looked toward the commissioners.
Then back at James.
“You don't know.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
James took a breath.
“Because before this incident, I believed our managers generally handled these situations appropriately.”
“And now?”
“Now I know that assumption was inadequate.”
Jordan nodded.
He could have attacked James.
Could have demanded a confession.
Could have portrayed him as deliberately prejudiced.
But the more revealing answer was already there.
James had trusted the system because the system had repeatedly told him it was working.
He had approved reports without examining the people affected.
He had praised escalation numbers without asking whether innocent customers were being harmed.
And when he finally met the person affected, he recognized him because he was wealthy and professionally successful.
Jordan asked one final question.
“Mr. Anderson, what do you regret most about that afternoon?”
James looked toward Brandon.
For several seconds, he could not answer.
Then he spoke.
“I regret that I believed recognizing the customer meant I understood the seriousness of the situation.”
He swallowed.
“The situation was serious before I arrived.”
Brandon lowered his eyes.
James continued.
“I should have recognized the failure, not the man.”
There was no applause.
No dramatic reaction.
Only silence.
For Brandon, it was one of the most significant statements of the entire hearing.
Because James had finally identified the real problem.
The bank should not have needed to discover that Brandon Coleman was important.
It should have understood that every customer was.
Brandon was called during the afternoon session.
He stood.
Straightened his jacket.
Picked up his father's briefcase.
Then walked toward the witness table.
From the public gallery, Helen watched him with both hands folded over her handbag.
Anthony Richardson sat several rows behind her.
Terry Wilson looked down at his notes.
James Anderson remained at the bank's table.
Sarah Winters stared straight ahead.
Brandon took the oath.
Sat.
Adjusted the microphone.
Jordan began with simple questions.