Porter asked what Hollister said when he saw the cash. Marcus repeated the remark about college students and drug sales, then looked down at his hands. "You know what it feels like," he asked, "when you spend a summer carrying stone in ninety-degree heat, and a stranger looks at six hundred dollars and decides it's proof you sell drugs? He took what I earned and talked like he was doing the community a favor."
The interviewer did not interrupt. Marcus told them how he had called the registrar, how he had missed the payment deadline, and how a delay described on paper as one semester had changed friendships, course sequences, and his own confidence. He said he had almost accepted the sergeant's version of himself because it was easier to believe he had somehow invited the treatment than to admit a public official could be that careless with someone else's future.
Over the following weeks, more people came forward. A grandmother who sold vegetables at roadside markets described losing money intended for her grandson's braces. A construction laborer recalled sitting for an hour while deputies questioned why his employer paid him in cash. A traveling musician said the department seized earnings from weekend performances and questioned why anyone who looked like him would need so much money. Some accounts contained strong documentation; others required investigators to search older systems for receipts or recordings that had not been properly indexed.
Seventeen previously unheard or uninvestigated complainants supplied formal statements during that first wave. They did not represent every victim. They were simply the people who heard that someone was finally asking questions and decided they could bear to tell the story one more time. Pastor Colton helped them arrange transportation to interviews and provided a quiet room at the church for anyone who did not want to speak at the courthouse.
The emotional weight began to affect Porter's team. One investigator had spent the morning listening to a man's account of being searched beside his teenage daughter while the deputy laughed at his explanation of the cash. That afternoon she found herself staring at a screen of numbers and forgetting why she had opened the file. Porter told her to take a break, then reminded the team that accuracy required rest as much as determination.
"We aren't helping these people by making mistakes because we're angry," Porter said. "They've been dismissed enough. They deserve work that holds up when somebody tries to knock it down."
In Washington, Byron received summaries through the designated ethics and oversight channel rather than directing the inquiry himself. He had taken the oath of office and begun leading an agency whose responsibilities stretched far beyond what happened to him on the highway. He recused himself from decisions about investigators, charging recommendations, and any action that could be perceived as retaliation on his behalf. The decision disappointed some colleagues who thought his personal involvement would accelerate the case; he knew it would make their eventual work easier to defend.