"Chief of Police," he read aloud. "Darius Holloway."
The words hung in the air like a gunshot. Mercer's aggressive stance crumbled. His shoulders sagged, and the color drained from his face as he stared at the badge, then at Darius, then back at the badge.
"Sir, I—we didn't know."
"Chief Holloway," Ruiz said, his voice cracking slightly. "You're the new chief. We're supposed to meet you tomorrow morning at headquarters."
Lenora's mouth fell open. She blinked rapidly, processing what she had just heard. "That's impossible," she sputtered. "He can't be. That badge could be fake."
Darius kept his voice level. "Officer Ruiz, I want you to run the registration on this vehicle."
"Yes, sir," Ruiz said quickly, reaching for his radio.
"Wait," Mercer interrupted. "Chief, there's no need to—"
"There's every need," Darius cut him off. "This is a reported vehicle theft. We investigate reported vehicle theft properly."
Lenora stepped closer, her voice shaking with indignation. "Stolen badges exist. Anyone can buy a fake police credential online. That doesn't change what I witnessed."
Ruiz spoke into his radio. "Dispatch, I need a registration check on a Rolls-Royce Phantom." He read off the license plate number.
Mercer shifted nervously from foot to foot. "Chief Holloway, Mrs. Vale is a respected donor to our police foundation. She's contributed thousands."
"I don't care if she's contributed millions," Darius replied firmly. "We follow procedure."
The radio crackled. "Registration shows the vehicle belongs to Darius Holloway. Address matches your current location. No reports of theft or liens."
Silence stretched across the driveway. Lenora's face flushed red.
"Well, I saw something suspicious. Anyone can see that."
"Something suspicious?" Darius repeated. "That's different from what you told these officers."
"I told them exactly what happened."
"Officer Ruiz," Darius said calmly, "would you contact dispatch and ask them to read back the exact language from the original 911 call?"
Ruiz hesitated, glancing at Mercer. Mercer gave a barely perceptible shake of his head.
"Officer Ruiz," Darius said again, "request the exact language from the 911 call."
"Yes, sir." Ruiz keyed his radio. "Dispatch, can you provide the exact wording from the caller's statement on this incident?"
The radio crackled again. After a moment, the dispatcher's voice came through clearly. "Caller reported witnessing a Black male forcing entry into a white Rolls-Royce in the driveway. Caller stated she observed the suspect using unknown tools to break into the vehicle and believed the homeowner might be in danger."
The words hit like a physical blow. Forcing entry. Unknown tools. Suspected break-in. None of it was true.
Lenora's eyes darted between the officers, searching for support that was no longer there. "I—that's what it looked like from my angle."
"From your angle," Darius repeated, "while I was standing in my own driveway, unlocking my own car with my own keys."
"How was I supposed to know it was your car?"