The room smelled like dust, coffee, wool coats, and anticipation.
Claire sat at the prosecution table with boxes of evidence stacked behind her.
Not for show.
Because the evidence really did rise that high.
Reports.
Video archives.
Call logs.
Property sheets.
Use-of-force summaries.
False statements.
Internal communications.
Time stamps.
Tiny pieces of truth collected long enough to become impossible to ignore.
Kessler sat at the defense table in a suit that did not fit him the way authority once had.
Dugan looked older than six months.
Hale looked smaller.
That was the thing about uniforms.
Once they were gone, a lot of men discovered there had never been much underneath.
The trial lasted weeks.
Claire testified on day nine.
She wore a dark suit, no jewelry except a watch, hair back, voice steady.
No drama.
No speeches.
That was not how strong testimony worked.
She walked the jury through the raid minute by minute.
