The results were more extensive than she anticipated.
There were eleven entries.
Not all were formal complaints. Some were classified as citizen inquiries, service concerns, or requests for supervisory review. Several had been closed without a finding of misconduct.
Melissa began opening the records one by one.
The first involved a delivery driver who claimed Miller had stopped him outside a commercial building and demanded to know why he was parked there.
The second involved a college student who said Miller had threatened to arrest him after he questioned the reason for a vehicle search.
The third involved a woman who reported that Miller had grabbed her wrist during an argument outside a convenience store.
There were other entries.
A retired mechanic.
A restaurant employee.
A young man who had been walking home late at night.
Their circumstances were different, but several complaints contained similar descriptions.
The officer had approached them without providing a clear explanation.
He had become irritated when they asked questions.
He had treated disagreement as defiance.
And in more than one case, he had threatened arrest after the person requested clarification.
Melissa printed the list and carried it to Captain Brooks.
Brooks read the first page.
Then the second.
By the time she reached the final entry, her expression had become serious.
"Why were these closed?"
Melissa looked at the notes.
"Some were classified as unfounded. Others were marked as resolved through informal counseling."
"Was there video?"
"One complaint included a private security recording. Another had a witness statement."
"Did anyone compare those materials with the officer's reports?"
Melissa hesitated.
"I can't tell from the database."
Brooks placed the papers on the desk.
"Then we need the original files, not just the summaries."
She picked up the telephone.
"Contact records management. I want every document associated with these complaints preserved. That includes emails, supervisory notes, dispatch recordings, and any available footage."
Melissa nodded.
"All eleven?"
"All eleven."
At 3:10 p.m., Captain Brooks received another call.
This time, it came from the county legal department.
The attorney on the line was Robert Hayes, a senior county counsel responsible for advising the police department on administrative and civil matters.
He had reviewed the initial incident summary and wanted to discuss the investigation's scope.
"Captain, I understand you have opened an internal review involving Officer Miller."
"That's correct."
"I also understand the individual involved is a federal judge."
"She is. But the investigation is being handled according to the same evidence-preservation requirements we would apply to any serious use-of-force complaint."
"Good. I want to make sure we are careful about the distinction between the officer's conduct and the judge's professional position."
Brooks looked at the file on her desk.
"That's exactly what we're doing."
Hayes continued.
"The county does not want anyone suggesting that a different standard applies because of her title."
"Then the county should make sure that the same standard is applied to everyone else."
There was a short silence.
Hayes cleared his throat.
"I agree."
Brooks asked whether the legal department had received the earlier complaints.
"Not yet. I have only seen the current incident."
"Then I suggest you wait until you have reviewed the full record."
"I will."
After the call ended, Brooks looked again at the eleven complaint entries.
She had a growing concern that the parking garage incident was not an isolated failure of judgment.
It might be the latest example of a pattern that had never been properly examined.
Meanwhile, Sarah Vance was preparing for a scheduled judicial meeting.
She had reviewed the documents that David Morgan had brought to her office and had requested that the appropriate administrative personnel preserve all communications relating to the parking garage incident.
She did not want her professional position used to influence the investigation.
She also did not want anyone treating the matter as insignificant simply because the officer had not caused a life-threatening injury.
The distinction mattered.
A person did not need to suffer a severe physical injury before an abuse of authority deserved scrutiny.
At 4:00 p.m., Sarah entered the conference room.
Three colleagues were already seated around the table.
Judge Elaine Porter, who had known Sarah for several years, noticed the slight redness on her cheek.
"Sarah, are you feeling all right?"
"I'm fine."
"David mentioned something happened yesterday."
Sarah placed her folder on the table.
"It did. A police officer confronted me in a shopping center parking garage."
Elaine looked concerned.
"Are you dealing with it?"
"The evidence is being preserved. I have requested an independent review."
Another judge, Thomas Reed, leaned forward.
"Was it related to your work?"
"No. I was shopping."
Sarah explained the basic facts without turning the meeting into a personal account.
She described the officer's approach, the lack of a clear explanation, the physical contact, and the moment she presented her identification.
When she finished, the room was quiet.
Judge Reed shook his head.