"I would appreciate it if someone could explain why I was singled out in the first place."
Nobody answered immediately.
And then the station's security manager appeared with a tablet.
He had reviewed the footage.
"Officer Holloway," he said, "we have a problem."
The security manager introduced himself as Marcus Bell.
He showed Peter and Grant the footage from the maintenance corridor.
The video clearly showed a young employee entering the room, collecting a tablet, placing it inside a cardboard box, and carrying the box toward the staff elevator.
There was no sign of Camille.
She had never even entered that part of the building.
Marcus continued.
"We also checked the equipment register. The tablet was scheduled for transfer to the regional maintenance office this evening."
Peter looked surprised.
"So it wasn't stolen?"
"No. The paperwork wasn't updated properly."
Grant's face became tense.
He glanced toward Camille.
She was standing quietly, holding her bag.
The officer cleared his throat.
"All right. There seems to have been a misunderstanding."
Camille looked directly at him.
"A misunderstanding?"
"Yes. We were investigating a report."
"And what exactly connected me to that report?"
Grant did not answer.
Camille continued.
"You approached me without explaining what evidence you had. You treated my questions as suspicious. You suggested that my refusal to open my personal belongings was proof that I was hiding something."
Peter looked down.
Marcus slowly lowered the tablet.
The young student who had been recording stepped forward.
"Officer, I recorded everything."
Grant turned sharply.
"You need to stop filming."
The student shook his head.
"I think everyone should see what happened."
Camille looked at the student.
"Thank you. Please keep the recording intact."
Then she turned back to Grant.
"I don't want an apology simply because the cameras proved you were wrong. I want to know whether you would have treated me differently if I had been someone else."
The silence that followed was uncomfortable.
For the first time that evening, Grant had no immediate response.
Peter offered to escort Camille to the station administration office.
She accepted, mainly because she wanted the incident documented.
Inside the office, Marcus asked for her identification so that he could complete the visitor report.
Camille opened her bag.
She removed her wallet, a notebook, a phone charger, and a small leather folder.
When she opened the folder, a laminated identification card slipped onto the desk.
Marcus glanced at it.
Then he looked again.
His eyebrows rose.
"Wait a minute."
Peter leaned closer.
The identification card carried the seal of the Westbridge Public Accountability Commission.
Underneath the seal was Camille's photograph.
Her full title was printed clearly:
Camille Rivers β Deputy Director, Independent Office of Public Accountability.
Peter stared at the card.
"You're Deputy Director Rivers?"
Camille nodded.
"I am."
Marcus sat down slowly.
He had heard her name before.
The commission had recently launched an independent investigation into complaints involving public institutions, including police conduct, improper searches, and discriminatory treatment.
Its latest report had become a major topic of discussion across the city.
Grant stood near the doorway.
He looked as if someone had suddenly removed the ground beneath his feet.
"You work for the accountability office?" he asked.
"Yes."
Grant swallowed.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Camille studied him.
"Would that have changed anything?"
He looked away.
She continued.
"Would you have spoken differently if you had known my position? Would you have explained the reason for your questions? Would you have respected my concerns?"
Grant said nothing.
Camille closed her folder.
"That's exactly the problem. Respect should not depend on whether someone has an important title."
The following morning, Camille arrived at her office earlier than usual.
Her assistant, Natalie Brooks, noticed immediately that something was wrong.
"You're unusually quiet today," Natalie said.
Camille placed her bag beside the desk.
"I had an unpleasant experience at the train station last night."
She explained what had happened.
Natalie listened without interrupting.
When Camille finished, Natalie asked the obvious question.
"Are you going to file a complaint?"
Camille looked through the glass wall toward the busy city outside.
"Yes. But I want the investigation to be fair."
"Even if the officer loses his job?"
"That decision shouldn't be mine alone. It should depend on the evidence, the policies, and his previous conduct."
She opened her laptop.
There was something else she wanted to investigate.
For months, the commission had received complaints from ordinary citizens who described similar experiences.
Some had been questioned without clear explanations.
Others had been treated aggressively after asking simple questions.
Many never filed formal complaints because they believed nothing would change.
Camille had always understood that statistics represented real people.
Now she had experienced firsthand how quickly a person could be made to feel powerless.
She called a meeting.
Within an hour, three investigators and two legal advisers were sitting around the conference table.
"Let's review the existing complaints," Camille said. "Not just the ones involving major incidents. I want to examine the everyday interactions that people are afraid to report."
One investigator opened a document.
"We've received more than two hundred complaints in the last six months."
Camille nodded.
"Then we have work to do."
The investigation into Grant Holloway began several days later.
The commission obtained the station recording, interviewed witnesses, and reviewed the officer's conduct history.
What emerged was more complicated than anyone expected.
Grant had received several complaints during the previous two years.
Some had been dismissed because of insufficient evidence.
Others had been resolved through informal conversations.
There was also a pattern of reports involving people who had questioned his instructions or asked for clarification.
His supervisor, Captain Richard Ellis, was called to provide testimony.
At first, Captain Ellis defended him.
"Officer Holloway is experienced," he explained. "He has served this city for many years."
Camille listened carefully.
"Experience is valuable," she replied. "But experience does not automatically make someone's decisions correct."
The captain shifted in his chair.
"Are you suggesting that he's prejudiced?"
"I'm suggesting that we investigate the evidence instead of deciding the answer beforehand."
Over the following weeks, the commission interviewed witnesses and reviewed additional recordings.
Some allegations could not be substantiated.
Others revealed serious problems with the department's supervision and training.
The final report did not simply focus on one officer.
It examined a culture in which certain employees had become accustomed to exercising authority without sufficiently explaining their decisions.
And that was something the city could no longer ignore.
Six weeks later, the Westbridge Civic Center hosted a public hearing.
Journalists filled the front rows.
Community leaders occupied the center section.
Representatives from the police department sat behind their legal advisers.
Grant Holloway was present.
He looked older than he had at the train station.