At the hospital, Andre discovered that relief could arrive without making him feel safe. The doctor explained that imaging showed no fracture, though the bruising would hurt for days. His wrists were photographed with his permission. His shoulder needed rest. Every ordinary instruction sounded useful until he imagined explaining to a customer why a mechanic with two working hands could no longer lift a tool case without wincing. He had no paid leave, and the rent on his repair bay would not pause while the bruises faded.
Ward waited outside the examination room until he said she could enter. With her was another investigator, Miles Keene. She asked whether Andre wanted someone present. He called his cousin Simone, a paralegal who had spent the flood recovery period helping families organize documents. She arrived carrying a phone charger, a bottle of water, and the expression she wore when she had decided to become angry later because something practical needed doing first.
“Your mother knows,” Simone said.
Andre closed his eyes. “What did you tell her?”
“That you’re being checked. That I’m here.”
“Did she see the video?”
“Not from me.”
Ward put a clean folder on the chair beside her. “We should start with the page, if you’re willing.”
Andre explained how his mother’s motel extension had been denied because the recovery system showed her temporary home delivered. He had first assumed a clerical error. The assigned unit number appeared on a letter from a contractor called Ridgeway Housing Logistics. The letter said his mother had accepted delivery at a site south of town. She had never visited that address. In fact, she had been in a medical clinic at the time beside the signature.
Simone opened her own folder. She had a clinic receipt and a transportation record. Ward asked whether these were originals or copies and where the originals were kept. The questions made Andre impatient until he noticed Keene marking the distinction carefully. For months he had wanted someone to believe him. These investigators were asking how another person could verify what he said without relying on belief alone.
“The other thirty-seven?” Ward asked.
“Names on the same delivery batch. I know six families. Three checked their accounts with me. All delivered. None living in the units.”
“Did you speak to every person listed?”
“No.”
“Then we’ll keep those categories separate.”
Andre nodded. He wanted thirty-eight to mean thirty-eight. He also knew the difference between a machine he had inspected and one a customer had described over the phone. Ward was asking for the same discipline in another kind of work.
His mother called before they finished. Evelyn spoke as if she were trying to keep her voice from frightening him. She wanted to know whether he had eaten, whether he could move his fingers, and whether the officers still had his license. Andre said the license had been returned. The photocopy had been placed in an evidence envelope after the lieutenant documented its transfer. Ward had arranged for a copy to be made available to him. His mother listened quietly until he mentioned the signature.
“I didn’t sign it,” she said.
“I know, Mama.”
“No. Tell her yourself. Put me on.”
Andre handed the phone to Ward. The agent introduced herself and asked whether Evelyn was comfortable having the conversation noted. Evelyn agreed, then gave a clear account of her clinic appointment, the motel address, and the person who had informed her that accepting another extension would constitute improper assistance. She did not sound confused. She sounded like a woman who had been required to remember the same humiliating conversation too many times.
Simone asked for discharge instructions before discussing any further interview. Andre began to protest that he could manage. She handed him the paper cup of water and waited. He drank it. There was an odd relief in letting someone else handle the forms for a few minutes. He had spent months trying to make documents explain his mother’s situation. Now his own body required a record, and he was too tired to decide which details mattered. Simone could help with that without taking his voice away.
After the call, Ward told Andre what she could promise: the information would be reviewed, witnesses would be contacted appropriately, and the incident at the station would be referred through separate channels. She could not promise charges or houses. Andre disliked hearing that. He disliked it less than the easy assurances he had received elsewhere. Before she left, he asked one question. “Were you already coming in three cars before they grabbed me?” Ward nodded. “We had other scheduled interviews nearby. Your message changed where we met.” Andre looked at his bandaged wrist. An ordinary appointment had been the only reason someone outside Rusk’s department had arrived before he disappeared into a booking room.