“Elias.”
“I watched the footage.”
“And?”
“We preserve everything.”
“Good.”
“Do not promise anyone charges tonight.”
“I haven’t.”
“Excellent.”
Thorpe leaned forward.
“What do you need from my department?”
Wyatt answered:
“Cooperation.”
“Personnel records within lawful process.”
“Body-camera logs.”
“Prior complaints.”
“Dispatch audio.”
“Vehicle telemetry.”
“Any reports authored by Langford involving use of force or resisting-arrest charges.”
Thorpe nodded.
“You’ll have them.”
Graves entered ten minutes later.
He did not look defeated.
Not yet.
He looked annoyed.
“Chief, my client has been sitting in a room for nearly two hours without counsel.”
“He requested counsel thirty minutes ago.”
“Then nobody speaks to him.”
“Nobody has.”
Graves looked at Harlan.
“And you are?”
“Harlan Whitaker.”
Recognition followed.
Not from the badge.
From the news and federal-law-enforcement world.
Graves’s expression changed.
“You’re that Whitaker.”
“I’m not sure which one you mean.”
“FBI counterterrorism.”
“Former.”
Graves looked toward Thorpe.
Then at the video paused on the monitor.
“Is that my client?”
“Yes.”
“Who recorded it?”
“Civilian witness.”
Graves held out his hand.
“I want a copy.”
“You’ll receive one through the normal process.”
Graves’s eyes narrowed.
“This better not become some federal circus because the alleged victim has connections.”
Harlan’s face became cold.
“That is precisely what I do not want.”
“Good.”
“Because Officer Langford’s conduct would be wrong if I sold shoes for a living.”
Graves paused.
Thorpe said:
“Nolan, watch the video.”
He did.
All of it.
By the end, Graves was no longer angry.
He was quiet.
Not because he suddenly agreed with everyone.
Because he understood the evidence.
When the clip showed Derek jerking the wheelchair sideways, Graves’s jaw tightened.
When it captured Derek inventing an assault charge seconds later, he closed his eyes.
Then Caleb’s body-camera audio played.
Derek’s statements.
The bystanders.
The identification.
The plea for Harlan not to involve Chief Thorpe.
Graves finally said:
“I need to speak to my client.”
Thorpe nodded.
“Of course.”
Harlan said:
“Mr. Graves.”
The lawyer looked at him.
“This is not about your union.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Graves’s face hardened.
“I represent officers.”
“I defend due process.”
“Then defend it.”
Harlan leaned forward.
“But if prior cases show people were denied theirs, do not confuse protecting procedure with protecting misconduct.”
Graves stared for a moment.
Then left.
Derek sat alone in Interview Room Two.
He had spent years inside that room on the opposite side of the table.
He knew how cold it became after an hour.
Knew the fluorescent hum.
Knew the camera angle.
Knew exactly where frightened people looked when they wanted to appear calm.
He hated all of it now.
When Graves entered, Derek stood.
“Finally.”
“Sit.”
“Nolan, this is insane.”
“Sit.”