Instead, the captain was insisting on a formal process.
HAYES: "There is another matter you need to understand."
NIA: "What now?"
HAYES: "The senior briefing has concluded its first agenda item."
Nia waited.
HAYES: "Officer Amara Johnson has been formally appointed Chief of Police of Westbridge, effective today."
For a moment, Nia did not move.
She stared at Hayes as though she had misheard him.
NIA: "What?"
HAYES: "Amara Johnson is the new chief."
NIA: "No. That can't be right."
HAYES: "The appointment has been approved and finalized."
Nia's face changed dramatically.
She remembered Amara standing beside the reception counter, politely asking where she should check in. She remembered interpreting the woman's calm tone as arrogance, and the refusal to apologize as a deliberate challenge.
She remembered grabbing her hair.
She remembered the slap.
She remembered pushing Amara to the floor while several colleagues watched.
And now she was being told that the woman she had attacked was the person appointed to lead the department.
NIA: "Why didn't anyone tell me?"
HAYES: "The formal announcement was scheduled for the senior briefing. Not every employee had been informed in advance."
NIA: "She should have told me who she was!"
HAYES: "That would not have changed your obligation to treat her professionally."
Nia opened her mouth but struggled to find an answer.
HAYES: "Chief Johnson was entitled to wait for her appointment as instructed. Even if she had been a new recruit, a visiting officer, or an administrative employee, you would not have had the right to strike her."
NIA: "I didn't know she was the chief."
HAYES: "That is not a defense for what happened."
The room became quiet.
Nia looked at the document on the desk, then at Hayes.
The confidence that had carried her through the morning was beginning to collapse under the weight of a reality she had not considered.
She had assumed that Amara was someone she could intimidate without consequence.
She had assumed that the other officers would remain silent.
She had assumed that her years of service would protect her from serious scrutiny.
Now every assumption was being questioned.
NIA: "I need to speak to her."
HAYES: "Not privately, and not while the investigation is underway. Any communication relevant to the case must follow the appropriate process."
NIA: "I need to explain that I didn't know."
HAYES: "You can explain your actions in your formal response. But you should understand that the central issue is not whether you knew her position. It is what you did."
Nia lowered her eyes.
For the first time, she seemed to realize that the incident could not be undone by an apology or an explanation.
The security footage existed.
The witnesses had begun giving statements.
The department had a duty to examine the facts.
And the person she had humiliated now held the responsibility of ensuring that Westbridge followed its own rules.
Yet Amara had made one thing clear during the senior briefing: she did not intend to use her new authority to decide the outcome before the investigation was complete.
That meant Nia could not simply claim that the appointment made the case unfair. The evidence would still need to be assessed, and she would still have the opportunity to respond.
HAYES: "I suggest that you read the document, arrange any representation available to you under the applicable procedures, and prepare an accurate account of what happened."
NIA: "And if I want to apologize?"
HAYES: "You should not contact Officer Johnson directly while the restriction is in place. If you wish to communicate something relevant, ask the investigator how it should be handled."
Nia sat down slowly.
Hayes and Laura left the office, closing the door behind them.
For several minutes, Nia stared at the wall.
She had always believed that people respected her because she was strong. She had mistaken silence for admiration and avoidance for obedience. She had convinced herself that her temper was simply part of her leadership style.
Now she was forced to consider another possibility.
Perhaps people had never felt safe enough to tell her what they really thought.
Perhaps the colleagues who laughed at her remarks had been trying to avoid becoming her next target.
Perhaps the people who had stopped challenging her were not convinced by her arguments at all.
Perhaps they had simply given up.
The thought made her uncomfortable.
But discomfort was not the same as understanding, and Nia was not yet ready to accept responsibility for the full pattern of her behavior.
She continued to tell herself that Amara had provoked her, that the incident had been exaggerated, and that the department was reacting strongly because the new chief had been involved.