Chapter 14 - Voss Couldn’t Call It An Old Mistake Anymore
Voss did not resign.
People always expect that part in stories.
He got counsel.
Issued a statement.
Cooperated through formal channels.
Very police.
Very administrative.
The state suspended certification of the disputed arrest-control sequence pending review.
The academy remained open.
Walter was removed from lead defensive-tactics instruction while investigators reviewed what he had withheld and which later certifications relied on his approvals.
My conduct board met the following Monday.
Three officers.
No Walter.
No Dana.
No family history speech.
They asked:
“Did you intend to humiliate Captain Hayes?”
“Yes.”
“Did you intentionally make physical contact before the authorized phase of the drill?”
“Yes.”
“Did your prior knowledge of Hayes influence your conduct?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe Captain Hayes’s response was excessive?”
I thought carefully.
“No.”
That surprised one of them.
“Why?”
“Because he controlled me and released.”
“Would you characterize the contact as training?”
“His, yes. Mine, no.”
The panel dismissed me from the current class.
Not the academy entirely.
I could reapply for the next cycle after completing remedial conduct requirements and a review period.
Six months.
I walked out feeling like someone had removed the floor.
I had wanted the badge since I was eighteen.
I had also spent most of the academy acting as though wanting it proved I deserved it.
Apparently not.
Walter was waiting outside.
Not supposed to be.
I stared.
“What are you doing here?”
“Walking.”
“Near my hearing.”
“Coincidence.”
“Bad liar.”
“Recently established.”
I almost smiled.
He nodded toward the paper in my hand.
“Six months?”
“Yes.”
“Going back?”
“I don't know.”
He nodded.
No inspirational nonsense.
We walked toward the parking lot.
“Your certification?”
I asked.
“Pending.”
“You think you'll teach again?”
“I don't know.”
That answer was everywhere now.
“You talk to Mom?”
“Yesterday.”
“How was it?”
“None of your business.”
I looked at him.
He almost smiled.
“Apparently she’s training me.”
“Terrifying.”
At the patrol cars, I stopped.
“Why did Reed say you didn’t learn it from ‘us’?”
Walter knew what I meant.
Opening day.
The line.
“He meant the department.”
“So Mom.”
“Yes.”
“Why did that scare you?”
Walter took a long time.
“Because I knew Thomas wasn't talking about technique.”
“What then?”
“Attribution.”
He looked toward the academy building.
“Once you ask where something came from, you eventually ask who benefited when the answer changed.”
That sounded dangerously close to a lesson.
I let it pass because he had earned one.
Then I asked:
“Did you know Voss signed the current revision?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Two years.”
I stared.
“And you stayed.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I believed I could keep teaching around the bad part.”
“Again.”
“Yes.”
“You ever going to stop giving yourself private exceptions?”
Walter looked at me.
“You?”
Fair.
We stood there.
No handshake.
Then Reed came through the doors carrying his briefcase.
He stopped beside us.
“The state found the original pilot suspension recommendation.”
Walter frowned.
“Lucas’s memo?”
“No.”
Dana’s.
I looked at him.
“Mom wrote one too?”
Reed nodded.
“Different recommendation. Same week.”
“Where was it?”
“Misfiled under contractor correspondence.”
“What did it say?”
Reed looked at Walter.
Walter did not know.
That mattered.
Reed opened his briefcase.
Then stopped.
“Actually.”
He closed it.
I stared.
“What?”
“This belongs to Dana first.”
I almost laughed.
Someone had finally learned.
Reed walked away with the paper still inside.
Walter watched him go.
“So now what?”
I asked.
He looked at me.
“Now we wait until the person who wrote it decides what to do.”
May you like
Neither of us liked waiting.
Neither of us chased him.
