Daniel Vance watched that answer from his lawyer's office.
According to Malcolm Rusk, he replayed it three times.
Two hours later, Rusk called Miriam Cho.
"My client wants to supplement his statement."
Cho did not promise immunity.
Rusk did not ask for it yet.
They met that afternoon in a neutral state office with a recording device on the table and a written proffer agreement making clear that Vance's cooperation would be evaluated, not automatically rewarded.
I was not present.
That was another boundary worth keeping.
I learned the substance later through material lawfully shared with the administrative audit after prosecutors determined it would not compromise their investigation.
Vance admitted that Vale had called him the previous evening and again that morning.
Vale told him I was carrying "stolen department recordings" and "raw internal files" that could compromise officers and expose confidential informants. He said a court clerk had leaked the delivery window and that the briefcase had to be recovered before Judge Carter saw it.
"Why you?" Cho asked.
Vance stared at the table.
"Because I've handled problems for him before."
That sentence sat in the room for several seconds.
"What kind of problems?"
Vance asked to speak privately with Rusk.
They stepped out.
When they returned, Vance looked older.
He admitted he had pressured complainants to withdraw statements. He admitted writing supplemental reports that made disputed searches sound cleaner than they had been. He admitted asking officers to re-upload body-camera clips under new labels after Professional Standards flagged inconsistencies.
He denied stealing seized cash.
He denied personally deleting raw footage.
He denied knowing the full financial side of the Blue Ledger.
"I thought it was about protecting cases," he said. "Keeping bad paperwork from wrecking good arrests."
Cho did not argue with him.
"When did you realize it was more than paperwork?"
He rubbed both hands over his face.
"Probably a year ago."
"And what did you do?"
"Nothing."
"Why?"
"Because by then I'd signed my name to too much of it."
There it was.
The mechanism that keeps wrongdoing alive long after the first bad decision.
Not loyalty.
Leverage.
Once people help conceal one thing, the concealment itself becomes the reason they cannot safely expose the next.
Vance described meetings where Vale used phrases like "clean the record," "protect the case," and "reduce unnecessary exposure." Nobody said falsify. Nobody said suppress. The language stayed managerial, which allowed everyone in the room to tell themselves they were improving documentation rather than changing truth.
Then Cho asked about the recordings.
"What recordings did Vale think Brooks had?"
Vance's expression changed.
He looked at Rusk.