The door opened.
Tyler Brooks stood there.
Behind him were three people in FBI jackets.
“Mr. Harris.”
Agent Rachel Turner stepped into view.
“We need to get you medical attention.”
Andrew stood slowly.
“Not yet.”
He looked around the room.
“We finish this first.”
Agent Rachel Turner and DOJ attorney Richard Bennett entered IR3.
Mayor Thomas Anderson was right behind them.
The afternoon light outside was fading, casting long lines through the narrow windows.
Mitchell returned from the false alarm.
He stopped in the doorway when he saw the federal agents.
His face moved through several emotions almost instantly.
Confusion.
Recognition.
Horror.
“What’s going on?”
“Officer Mitchell.”
Turner displayed her credentials.
“I’m Special Agent Rachel Turner, FBI. This is attorney Richard Bennett from the Department of Justice.”
Mitchell looked at Andrew.
“We need you to step away from Mr. Harris immediately.”
“He’s under arrest.”
“No,” Turner said. “He isn’t.”
Mitchell stopped.
“He was never legally detained.”
Her voice was flat.
“Everything that happened here during the last ninety minutes was unlawful, and we have documentation.”
Bennett moved toward Andrew.
His voice was professional but concerned.
“Mr. Harris, are you injured? Do you need immediate medical attention?”
Andrew touched the cut near his forehead.
“I’ll need an examination.”
Bennett nodded.
“Good.”
He began documenting the visible injuries.
Mayor Anderson stepped forward.
Until then, he had said nothing.
When he finally spoke, his voice was cold.
“Deputy Chief Walsh.”
Walsh appeared in the doorway.
He saw the federal agents.
He saw Andrew.
He saw the mayor.
His expensive watch suddenly looked conspicuous on his wrist.
“Mayor, I can explain.”
“Save it for your attorney.”
Anderson’s face hardened.
“As of this moment, you are relieved of duty pending federal investigation.”
Turner turned toward Mitchell and Wilson.
“Both of you, keep your hands where we can see them.”
Neither moved.
“Do not reach for your weapons.”
She looked directly at Mitchell.
“Do not touch your radios.”
Mitchell’s face had gone completely white.
His lips moved.
No sound came out.
“Agent Turner,” Brooks called from the hallway.
She looked back.
“I have the video evidence ready.”
“Bring it to Conference Room A.”
Turner looked at the room.
“We’re moving this discussion somewhere more appropriate.”
The group moved through the station hallways.
Officers stopped what they were doing to watch.
Word traveled fast inside a police station.
Everybody knew something enormous was happening.
They simply didn’t know exactly what.
Conference Room A had a long table, harsh fluorescent lights, and a wall-mounted presentation screen.
Brooks connected his phone to the laptop.
Andrew sat at the head of the table.
Mayor Anderson sat beside him.
Turner and Bennett occupied the opposite side.
Mitchell, Wilson, and Walsh were placed at the far end.
They looked less like officers now and more like defendants waiting for proceedings to begin.
“Before we review the evidence,” Mayor Anderson said, “I want to make something absolutely clear.”
He looked around the room.
“Mr. Andrew Harris is the duly appointed chief of police for this city.”
Mitchell stared.
“His appointment was confirmed by city council two weeks ago.”