A few were relieved.
For years, people had whispered about the missing firearms and unexplained corrections. They had watched colleagues lose confidence in the property system. They had heard jokes about evidence that seemed to vanish whenever a case became inconvenient.
Most had not known the full extent of the problem.
Some had suspected.
Very few had been willing to ask questions.
Now the FBI was in the building, and the department's chief had ordered every relevant recording preserved.
Carter sat in his office with the blinds closed.
He had been told not to access the evidence systems. A technology supervisor had disabled his administrative permissions as a precaution, pending review.
He stared at the computer screen.
For years, he had relied on access that other officers did not possess. He could approve transfers, review reports, and request changes to certain records. He knew which employees would obey an order without asking why and which ones would need to be reminded of their career prospects.
He had built his influence slowly.
First, he had allowed a trusted officer to make a small correction to a property log. Then he had approved a transfer that lacked complete documentation. When the firearm disappeared, he had blamed an administrative mistake.
The next time was easier.
Eventually, the system itself became part of the operation.
Firearms seized during arrests could be diverted through false transfers. Records could be changed to suggest that weapons had been sent for testing or returned under court order. Video files could be labeled corrupted. Officers who questioned discrepancies were told that they were misunderstanding procedures.
Carter had never thought of himself as a criminal.
He had convinced himself that he was protecting the department from embarrassment, that the weapons would be used by people who could be controlled, and that the missing evidence would never matter if the associated cases were closed.
Over time, those excuses had become meaningless.
He knew where some of the weapons had gone.
He knew who had paid for them.
And he knew that the people receiving them were not harmless.
A knock came at the door.
Carter looked up.
Chief Lawson entered.
“Stand up, Sergeant.”
He did.
“Effective immediately, you are relieved of your supervisory duties pending investigation.”
His face went pale.
“Chief, you can't do that based on an allegation.”
“This is an administrative measure to protect the integrity of the investigation.”
“I have eight years of service.”
“And the department has years of unresolved evidence discrepancies.”
Carter stared at her.
“You're going to destroy my career because two federal agents made accusations?”
Lawson's expression remained steady.
“The federal agents are not the only source of evidence. The department's own records are being reviewed.”
“They're going to find nothing.”
“Then the review will establish that.”
She placed a document on his desk.
“Turn over your access card, department phone, and any keys to restricted evidence areas.”
Carter did not touch the document.
“Am I under arrest?”
“No. You are being relieved of duty. If investigators determine that criminal charges are warranted, that decision will be made through the appropriate process.”
He looked at her.
“You've wanted me gone since the day you took this job.”
Lawson shook her head.
“I wanted the evidence system to work. I wanted officers to trust that the property they seized would remain where the records said it was. I wanted prosecutors to stop discovering that important exhibits had disappeared.”
She paused.
“If you believe that makes me your enemy, that is your choice.”
Carter looked down at the document.
For the first time, he had no immediate threat to offer and no subordinate to order into silence.
He handed over his access card.
Lawson took it.
“Someone will escort you out.”
She left the office.
Carter remained standing for several seconds.
Then he sat down slowly.
Outside, the station was growing louder as the morning shift arrived.
The world had not ended.
But the system he had relied on was beginning to turn against him.
At 7:15 a.m., David and I sat in a private room at the FBI field office while a physician examined our injuries.
My wrists were bruised. My shoulder had been strained, but nothing appeared to be broken. David had a superficial cut above his eyebrow and tenderness along his ribs where O'Shea had forced him against the vehicle.
The physician documented everything.
Photographs were taken with our consent. Measurements were recorded. The time of each examination was entered into the file.
Afterward, we changed into clean clothes and joined Brooks in a conference room.
A large screen displayed the evidence collected overnight.