“Deputy Director Carter?”
James nodded.
“Captain.”
Mitchell turned toward Hayes.
“What happened?”
Hayes answered quickly.
“There was a misunderstanding during a routine stop.”
James looked at her.
“Captain, I'd prefer that you hear Officer Brooks's account first.”
Mitchell turned.
“Officer Brooks?”
Brooks swallowed.
“Trooper Hayes stopped Mr. Carter. After the initial identification check, he continued questioning him without explaining the basis for the detention. He then physically pushed him against the truck.”
Mitchell looked at Hayes.
“Is that accurate?”
Hayes shook his head.
“I was controlling a potentially dangerous situation.”
James looked at him.
“I was standing beside my own vehicle.”
Hayes said nothing.
Mitchell turned toward James.
“Sir, I apologize for the conduct you've experienced.”
James nodded.
“Thank you. But I didn't come here to receive an apology.”
Mitchell looked confused.
“What did you come here for?”
James reached into his pocket and removed a folded sheet of paper.
He handed it to her.
It was a list of twelve roadside incidents.
Each involved a driver who had filed a complaint against Unit 714.
Mitchell read the names.
Her expression grew serious.
“Where did you get this?”
“Federal records.”
She looked up.
“Are these allegations confirmed?”
“Not all of them.”
James paused.
“But the patterns are concerning.”
Mitchell looked toward Hayes.
“Trooper, do you recognize these names?”
Hayes glanced at the list.
“No.”
James studied his face.
“Take another look.”
Hayes read the names again.
Then he shook his head.
“I don't know any of them.”
James nodded.
“That's interesting.”
“Why?”
“Because every one of these individuals identified you in their complaint.”
Hayes went silent.
And for the first time, Captain Mitchell realized this roadside encounter had nothing to do with a routine traffic stop.
It was the beginning of a federal investigation.
CHAPTER 3 — THIRTY-TWO REPORTS
Officer Ethan Brooks had been with the Virginia Highway Patrol for less than a year.
He had joined because his father had been a state trooper.
He believed the uniform meant something.
He believed the badge was supposed to protect people, not frighten them.
But his first months in District Seven had changed his understanding of the job.
He had watched Trooper Hayes stop drivers for vague reasons.
He had seen him demand explanations from people who had committed no obvious violation.
He had witnessed arguments that began with simple questions and ended with people standing against their vehicles.
At first, Brooks believed Hayes was merely strict.
Then he began noticing the paperwork.
Reports that changed after submission.
Search justifications that appeared hours after a vehicle had been searched.
Statements attributed to drivers who later claimed they had never made them.
Brooks had started keeping copies.
He had never intended to become a whistleblower.
He had simply become tired of pretending he hadn't seen anything.
Now, sitting inside a federal interview room, he placed a small encrypted drive on the table.
James Carter sat across from him.
Captain Mitchell stood beside the door.
“Is everything on this drive yours?” James asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you alter any of the records?”
“No.”
“Did you obtain them through your official access?”
“Yes, sir. I was assigned to the relevant patrol records.”
James nodded.