Neither commissioner declared support for that argument, but neither dismissed him outright. Cole understood that uncertainty could be useful. If the debate became a dispute over state authority, federal conditions, and elected independence, the technical sequence might have to compete for attention with questions large enough to occupy the board for weeks.
Across the hall, Martin Hail had already heard about the conversations. He told Evelyn that Cole was reframing the matter as interference in local government. Evelyn set her pen down and looked at the stack of reports beside her. She was not naive about county politics, and she knew some commissioners were already worried the controversy might endanger a popular program.
"Can he make that argument stick?" she asked.
"He doesn't have to prove the technical record is wrong if he can keep the discussion broad enough. He needs people to believe the process itself has become political."
Evelyn thought for a moment. "Then we make it narrow. One formal authentication hearing. Cole, Williams, the state inspector, Thomas Keane, and every witness whose name appears on a disputed document."
"A public administrative hearing?"
"A formal one. No campaign speeches. No speculation about who benefits. We take the documents in the order they were created and ask who can authenticate each one."
Martin considered the proposal. It would require careful limits so the board did not pretend to exercise powers belonging to another office, and the state inspector would need to preserve the independence of any later criminal or disciplinary investigation. But the county could legitimately determine which records it could rely upon when managing a public partnership. He agreed to draft the notice.
Reporters were waiting near the administration building's entrance when Maya arrived with her attorney for a short procedural meeting. She had not sought them out, but one approached as she walked toward the parking lot. The woman held her microphone low and asked whether Maya would answer a single question. Her attorney reminded her that she was under no obligation to respond.
Maya stopped. She could see several cameras turning toward her, a familiar trap in which any pause looked evasive and any answer could be cut from the explanation surrounding it. She chose to answer only what she knew.
"Captain Williams, do you believe Sheriff Cole framed you?" the reporter asked.
"I am not asking the public to believe me instead of Sheriff Cole," Maya said. "I'm asking them to examine the records both of us put our names on."
"Are you saying his documents are false?"
"I'm saying documents should be authenticated before they're used to destroy a person's career."
Another voice called from behind the cameras. "Did you leak the Safe Communities records?"
"No," Maya answered.
The directness seemed to surprise the reporters. For the first time since her removal, she had made an unambiguous public denial. She had not accused anyone else of a crime or described the flaws in the documents beyond the conclusion the independent review had reached. Her attorney stepped closer, and Maya understood the signal.
"Why did you stay silent so long?" the first reporter asked.
"Because this should never have been a contest about who reached a microphone first. It should have been about what the evidence actually proves."