And that was interesting.
Very interesting.
At 10:00 a.m., Ethan entered the command conference room.
The room had been prepared for his arrival.
A long wooden table occupied the center. American flags stood near the wall. A large screen displayed the department's insignia.
Six senior officers were waiting.
Captain Harris sat near the head of the table.
Beside him were Deputy Chief Alan Brooks, Lieutenant Denise Walker, Commander Paul Bennett, and two division supervisors.
Nolan was not present.
Ethan placed a leather folder on the table.
"Good morning, everyone."
The officers stood.
"Good morning, Chief."
"Please sit."
Ethan remained standing for another moment.
"I appreciate everyone making time for this meeting. I understand that some of you have worked in this department for decades. I respect that experience."
He looked around the table.
"But I want to establish something from the beginning."
He placed both hands on the back of his chair.
"I did not come here to protect anyone's position."
Nobody moved.
"I did not come here to reward personal loyalty."
He opened his folder.
"And I did not come here to maintain a system simply because it has existed for a long time."
Harris glanced toward the other officers.
Ethan continued.
"I came here because this department has a responsibility to the people it serves. That responsibility cannot be compromised by arrogance, favoritism, or fear."
Lieutenant Denise Walker nodded slightly.
She was in her early forties, with short brown hair and a calm, observant manner.
Ethan noticed her reaction.
"Lieutenant Walker, how long have you served here?"
"Fourteen years, Chief."
"What do you believe is the department's greatest challenge?"
Denise considered the question.
"Trust."
Ethan nodded.
"Explain."
"People don't always believe we listen to them. Sometimes they feel that reporting misconduct is more dangerous than staying silent."
Harris shifted in his chair.
Denise continued.
"Some complaints are handled properly. Others disappear into administrative processes that nobody understands."
The room became uncomfortable.
Ethan turned toward Harris.
"Captain?"
Harris cleared his throat.
"Every complaint is reviewed according to established policy."
"Every complaint?"
"Yes, Chief."
"How many complaints involving excessive force were received by this precinct during the last twelve months?"
Harris looked at the folder in front of him.
"I would need to check the records."
"How many were referred for independent review?"
Another pause.
"I would need to check."
Ethan nodded.
"Then I suggest we begin by checking."
He sat down.
"Before we continue, I want to explain why I came here this morning without a formal reception."
The officers looked toward him.
"I wanted to observe the department without creating an atmosphere in which everyone suddenly behaved differently because the chief was watching."
Harris remained still.
Ethan continued.
"I arrived wearing my official uniform. My name was clearly visible. I carried identification. I was not hiding my identity."
He paused.
"Yet I was accused of fraud, handcuffed, and threatened with arrest before anyone bothered to verify who I was."
Nobody spoke.
"That incident will be reviewed."
He looked directly at Harris.
"And I want the review to include everyone who participated, not only the officer who physically placed the cuffs on me."
Harris nodded stiffly.
"Of course, Chief."
Ethan closed his folder.
"Now, let's discuss something more important."
He pressed a button on the remote.
The screen behind him displayed a series of case numbers.
"These are complaints submitted by residents over the past eleven months."
The first photograph appeared.
A young man standing beside a police cruiser.
"Complaint one. Excessive force during a traffic stop."
The next photograph showed an older woman sitting outside a neighborhood store.
"Complaint two. Alleged intimidation during a property dispute."
Another photograph appeared.
A young Black man with a bandage above his eyebrow.
"Complaint three. An arrest report that does not match the body-camera footage."
Harris leaned forward.
"Chief, those cases were investigated."
"By whom?"
"Our internal review team."
"Who supervised the review team?"
"Me."
Ethan nodded.
"Thank you."
He changed the slide.
A list of names appeared.
One of them was Nolan Pierce.
Another was Brandon Mitchell.
And the third was Robert Harris.
The room became silent.
Eleven months earlier, a seventeen-year-old student named Jordan Ellis had been stopped outside a convenience store.
Jordan lived with his mother, Patricia, in a small apartment near the southern edge of the city.
His father had died when he was nine.
His mother worked as a hospital receptionist and often took additional shifts to pay for his education.
Jordan was a good student.
He played basketball.
He volunteered at a local community center.
And he had recently received a scholarship offer from a university.
One evening, he had gone to the convenience store to buy milk and bread.