"Then let it be relevant when it's relevant."
"You realize the defense will try to make a mystery out of it."
"Let them. I don't want the facts changed because somebody thinks I'm important."
James looked at her for a long moment. "That's a fine principle," he said. "It's also going to complicate things."
"Then we'll work harder."
At the station, Callahan completed his own account of the July stop with the confidence of a man who had written hundreds of such reports. He described a vehicle with suspiciously dark windows, an apparently expired registration, and a driver who became hostile when asked for documentation. He stated that Maya made sudden movements toward the glove compartment and repeatedly refused clear instructions. He described placing her on the ground as a necessary safety precaution, a brief and controlled action undertaken while waiting for backup.
The language was familiar to Sergeant Paul Haskins, who reviewed the report that afternoon. Phrases like aggressive posture, officer-safety concern, and subject failed to comply appeared so frequently in departmental paperwork that they had become almost invisible. Haskins read the summary, made a minor formatting correction, and approved it. He did not ask why Callahan had released a supposedly dangerous subject without issuing a citation.
Callahan watched the approval notification appear on his computer and leaned back in his chair. His partner Elena Rodriguez was working at the next station, her face turned toward a screen she had not typed into for several minutes. He noticed. "Something bothering you?" he asked.
"The Richardson stop," she said.
He gave a dismissive shrug. "What about it?"
"She didn't look threatening to me."
"You got there after the hard part."
"Her hands were tied. She was kneeling in the street."
"She was noncompliant."
Rodriguez turned toward him. "Derek, I looked at the registration. It was valid."
He stared. "You calling me a liar?"