“Why didn't you report this sooner?”
Brooks looked down.
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of Hayes?”
“Of what would happen if I reported him.”
“Did he threaten you?”
“Not directly.”
James waited.
Brooks continued.
“He told me that people who couldn't handle the job shouldn't wear the uniform. He said he could make sure I never worked in law enforcement again.”
James leaned back.
“Did he say anything about the reports?”
Brooks nodded.
“He told me to stop asking questions about missing evidence.”
“Missing evidence?”
Brooks opened his notebook.
“Several drivers reported cash missing from their vehicles after searches. In three cases, the evidence logs showed money had been collected, but no property receipt was issued.”
Captain Mitchell stepped forward.
“How much money?”
Brooks checked his notes.
“Between eight hundred and six thousand dollars per incident.”
James looked at him.
“Who signed the evidence logs?”
“Trooper Hayes.”
Mitchell's expression tightened.
“That's serious.”
Brooks nodded.
“There are other things.”
James waited.
“Two drivers were detained after refusing searches. Their vehicles were towed. When the vehicles were released, personal property was missing.”
“Did they file complaints?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Both complaints were closed.”
“By whom?”
Brooks hesitated.
Then he answered.
“Lieutenant Harris.”
Captain Mitchell closed her eyes briefly.
James looked at her.
“Do you know Lieutenant Harris?”
“Yes.”
“Is he still assigned to District Seven?”
“He's the district operations supervisor.”
James nodded.
“Then I want his records preserved immediately.”
Mitchell picked up her phone.
“I'll contact headquarters.”
James stopped her.
“Not through the normal district channel.”
She looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because if the complaints were being closed internally, we need to consider the possibility that someone inside the chain of command knew what was happening.”
Mitchell slowly lowered her phone.
“You believe this goes higher?”
“I believe we don't yet know how high it goes.”
Meanwhile, Trooper Hayes was sitting alone in his patrol vehicle.
His hands were shaking.
He had already made two calls.
Neither had been answered.
He finally received a message.
DO NOT SPEAK TO FEDERAL INVESTIGATORS.
Hayes stared at the screen.
Then another message appeared.
THEY DO NOT HAVE THE ORIGINAL LEDGER.
He swallowed.
He typed back:
THEY HAVE BROOKS.
The response came almost immediately.
THEN FIND OUT WHAT HE GAVE THEM.
Hayes looked toward the federal vehicles parked nearby.
James Carter was standing beside Captain Mitchell.
The deputy director was speaking quietly, but Hayes could tell he was giving instructions.
He had seen men like Carter before.
Men who didn't need to shout.
Men who didn't need to threaten.
Men whose presence alone could end a career.
Hayes looked down at his phone again.
Then he deleted the messages.
But he didn't know that the federal team had already preserved the communication records.
And the number that had sent those messages belonged to a retired highway patrol commander.
A man who had supposedly died four years earlier.
To be continued.
THE TROOPER SLAMMED HIM AGAINST HIS TRUCK… THEN THE YOUNG OFFICER SAW HIS IDENTIFICATION
An American Police Drama — Abuse of Authority, Federal Corruption, Hidden Evidence, and a Dangerous Conspiracy