Chapter 2 - The Boy Behind the Investigation
Twenty minutes later, Alana sat inside Chief Brooks's office with a cold compress against her cheek.
The pain had settled into a steady ache.
Her briefcase rested beside her chair.
Brooks stood near the window, speaking quietly into his phone.
He had already ordered Marcus relieved of duty pending an immediate administrative review.
He had also contacted the county's independent investigative team to report the assault.
When he ended the call, he turned toward Alana.
“I'm sorry this happened in my building.”
Alana lowered the compress.
“I'm more concerned about why he thought he could do it.”
Brooks looked at her.
“Marcus has had a difficult year.”
She said nothing.
The chief immediately seemed to regret the words.
“I'm not excusing him.”
“Then don't begin with an excuse.”
Brooks pulled out the chair opposite her.
He sat.
“You're right.”
Alana studied his face.
Raymond Brooks had served in law enforcement for nearly thirty years. He had built a reputation as a disciplined administrator who rarely raised his voice.
But Alana had already learned something important about institutions.
A respectable leader could still preside over serious failures.
Six weeks earlier, a woman named Evelyn Carter had walked into the district attorney's public assistance office carrying a folder of photographs.
Her seventeen-year-old grandson, Isaiah, had been arrested during a traffic stop.
The arrest report claimed that Isaiah had refused repeated commands, behaved aggressively, and attempted to interfere with an officer.
Marcus Hill had signed the report.
But Evelyn's account was different.
According to her, Isaiah had been riding home from his after-school job when officers stopped the car in which he was a passenger.
The driver was questioned about a broken taillight.
Isaiah had asked whether he could call his grandmother.
What happened afterward left him with a bruised wrist and a swollen cheek.
He spent the night in juvenile detention.
The following morning, Evelyn photographed his injuries.
She filed a formal complaint.
Then she waited.
And waited.
Finally, she received a letter stating that the officers had acted within departmental policy.
It contained no explanation of the missing body-camera footage.
No meaningful discussion of Isaiah's injuries.
And no response to the discrepancies between the arrest report and the detention intake records.
That was when she brought the folder to Alana's office.
Alana still remembered their first conversation.
Evelyn had worn a faded purple cardigan and carried a handbag with a broken zipper.
She sat carefully across from Alana.
“My grandson isn't a perfect child,” she said. “He forgets his chores. His grades aren't always what they should be. Sometimes he talks too much.”
Alana waited.
“But he didn't deserve what happened to him.”
Evelyn opened the folder.
Inside was a photograph of Isaiah taken the morning after his arrest.
His left wrist was visibly swollen.
There was discoloration along his cheekbone.
“He won't ride the bus anymore,” Evelyn whispered. “Every time he sees a police car, he gets quiet.”
Alana had investigated misconduct complaints before.
She knew a photograph alone couldn't establish everything that had happened.
But the department's records contained contradictions that required answers.
And when she requested the missing materials, she encountered unusual resistance.
Repeated delays.
Incomplete documents.
Reports that appeared to have been corrected without clear explanation.
Eventually, her office secured compulsory process for relevant records and arranged a formal meeting with department leadership.
That meeting was supposed to happen the morning Marcus slapped her.
Now, inside Brooks's office, Alana placed Isaiah's file on the desk.
“This investigation was already serious,” she said. “What happened in your hallway makes it more urgent.”
Brooks looked at the file.
“I want you to understand that most of my officers are good people.”
“I hope that's true.”
He glanced up.
“But?”
“But good officers don't protect an institution by ignoring evidence of wrongdoing.”
Brooks lowered his eyes.
Alana continued.
“I need the records we requested. I need the original versions, not just summaries. And I need every person who handled those records identified.”
Brooks nodded.
“You'll have our cooperation.”
Alana held his gaze.
“I'll need more than your word.”
A quiet knock interrupted them.
The chief's assistant entered.
“Sir, Officer Price is asking to speak with Ms. Pierce.”
Brooks frowned.
“Darius Price?”
“Yes, sir.”
Alana remembered the younger officer standing near the records office.
The one who had watched Marcus strike her.
“What does he want?”
The assistant hesitated.
“He says there's something about the Carter arrest report that Ms. Pierce needs to know.”
Alana slowly set down the compress.
May you like
Brooks looked toward the door.
And for the first time that morning, the chief appeared uncertain about how much trouble his department might actually be in.
