Not life.
Not some theatrical punishment designed for an internet ending.
Years.
Followed by supervised release.
Restitution obligations were tied to the proven financial conduct.
His law-enforcement career was over.
Outside the courthouse, reporters surrounded Simone.
She refused most questions.
One journalist shouted:
“Agent Carter, do you think Sheriff Mercer’s biggest mistake was searching an FBI agent?”
Simone stopped.
That question bothered her.
She turned.
“No.”
The reporter waited.
“His mistake was believing the legality of the search depended on who I was.”
Then she left.
Months later, Westbridge held a community meeting at the municipal center.
Not a celebration.
A status update.
Recovered equipment lined one side of the adjoining emergency-services lot.
Thermal cameras.
Radios.
Two rescue drones.
Portable communications systems.
Some replacement equipment had been purchased with recovered funds and county appropriations because the original devices were gone permanently.
Simone attended because federal agencies had been asked to explain what the investigation had established and what remained unresolved.
She disliked public meetings.
But she believed communities deserved more than indictments appearing on television.
Afterward, she stood near the parking lot.
Deputy Daniel Price approached.
He looked different.
Not physically.
Less eager to explain himself.
“Agent Carter?”
“Yes?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
He glanced toward the recovered drone firefighters were unloading.
“Were you scared when Mercer opened your trunk?”
Simone thought.
“A little.”
Price seemed surprised.
“I always thought you weren’t.”
“That sounds like something people say afterward.”
He smiled faintly.
“What were you mostly feeling?”
“Disappointed.”
“Why?”
Simone looked toward the municipal building.
“Because there was still a part of me hoping I was wrong about him.”
Price nodded.
“You already suspected.”
“I suspected.”
“Not the same as knowing.”
“No.”
They stood quietly.
Price said:
“I still think about that memo.”
“You should.”
“I should’ve done more.”
“Yes.”
He looked at her.
“You don’t make people feel better, do you?”
“Not when feeling better requires rewriting what happened.”
He laughed.
Then became serious.
“I was afraid of losing my job.”
“I know.”
“My wife was pregnant.”
“I know.”
“I kept thinking I had responsibilities.”
“You did.”
“Then what was I supposed to do?”
Simone did not answer quickly.
“Responsibility does not make courage easy.”
“It makes the cost real.”
Price looked down.
“So what would you have done?”
“That question won’t help you.”
“Why?”
“Because next time I won’t be there.”
She looked directly at him.
“You need to know what you will do.”
Across the parking lot, firefighters powered up one of the recovered drones.
Its rotors began turning.
Price watched it rise.
After a moment he said:
“Mercer had authority.”