"What if they don't care about evidence?"
David considered before answering.
"Then we go one level higher."
"And if they don't care?"
"Higher."
Marcus looked at him. David crouched slightly so they were closer to eye level.
"That's what systems are supposed to have. Review. Appeal. Oversight. It's slower than people want, and sometimes it fails, but we don't start by assuming nobody can be held accountable."
"You sound like Uncle John in that video."
David went still.
"You figured it out?"
"You said Angela's brother. Mom's name was Angela. Mayor Bradley's first name is Jonathan. I'm twelve, not five."
Dorothy snorted. David stood.
"Your mother would enjoy this."
"Why didn't I know he's my uncle?"
The question stopped the humor. David looked toward the school.
"Because adults make mistakes too. Bigger ones sometimes. Your mom and John loved each other, but they fought before she got very sick. He kept thinking there would be time to fix it. Then there wasn't. After she died, he stayed away because he was ashamed and because you looked so much like her that it hurt him."
Marcus processed that.
"That's stupid."
"Yes."
"Is he coming?"
"Maybe."
"Because I'm his nephew?"
"Because the mayor's office already received community complaints about the video. He asked his ethics counsel how to handle the family connection. If he comes, he'll disclose it."
Marcus looked at David.
"You really called him from the plane?"
"I had a long flight."
They reached the front doors at 10:43. The effect of David's uniform was immediate. Students near the entrance stopped talking. A sixth grader carrying a trombone case stared openly. Two military dependents recognized the rank insignia before anyone else.
"That's a colonel."
"That's Marcus's dad."
"Wait, Colonel Williams?"
A girl whose mother served at Fort Myer whispered, "My mom knows him." Phones appeared. David noticed.
"No filming in the office if staff ask you not to," he told Marcus quietly.
"I'm not filming."
"I'm talking to the hallway."
Several students lowered their phones, embarrassed. At the front desk, Mrs. Bell stood automatically.
"Colonel Williams?"
"David Williams. I'm Marcus's father. I'd like to speak with Dr. Cartwright and the district representatives who are here."
The secretary blinked.
"District representatives?"
David looked past her toward two unfamiliar adults carrying document boxes.
"I'm assuming that's why there are district badges in the conference room."
Mrs. Bell swallowed.