Chief Pierce looked at the internal affairs lieutenant.
"Secure the camera. Secure the vehicle. Nobody overwrites, exports, clips, or annotates anything until counsel gives a protocol."
Mallerie's jaw tightened.
"This is becoming a show because of who her mother is."
Pierce looked up. "Who is her mother?"
Sergeant Dwire turned his phone around. On the screen was Simone's professional biography from the Department of Justice website.
"Assistant United States Attorney," he said. "Civil rights prosecutions."
For the first time since the encounter, certainty left Mallerie's face.
"That doesn't change what happened."
"No," Pierce replied. "The video will decide what happened."
Mallerie had spent years believing that video began when a camera noticed him. His body camera told a different story.
The preservation request arrived at Westbridge headquarters at 5:23. It covered the original body camera file and its audit history, dash camera footage, automatic vehicle location data, dispatch audio, computer-aided dispatch entries, mobile data terminal messages, radio transmissions, use-of-force reports, personnel records relevant to prior force complaints, and all policies governing juvenile contacts and pedestrian stops.
Separate notices went to Bellweather Pharmacy, the bakery, the city traffic office, and three businesses facing the intersection. The notice was not a search warrant and did not assume guilt. It was a legal command not to destroy material that could become evidence.
At 5:41, Malik Carter received a call from FBI Special Agent Nia Hammond. Malik's mother listened on speakerphone while Agent Hammond explained that she wanted the original file, not a version downloaded from social media.
Malik agreed to preserve his phone and export the video without trimming it. Dana Whitaker received a similar call. So did the delivery driver and the woman who had recorded from her car.
At 6:10, the Westbridge Police Department announced that Mallerie had been placed on administrative leave. The statement asked the public to avoid rushing to judgment and called the encounter an evolving internal personnel matter.
At 6:22, Dana's full video reached a local station. It was 3 minutes and 48 seconds long. It showed the white pedestrian symbol illuminated as Aaliyah entered the road. It showed Mallerie's patrol car cross the stop line and block the crosswalk. It captured Dana telling him that Aaliyah had the signal.
It captured his refusal of medical assistance after Aaliyah complained of pain. Most damagingly, it showed that Aaliyah's hands were visible before he gave the first command.
The station aired the uncut sequence at 6:30. By 7:00, the mayor's office had received more than 2,000 emails. By 8:00, the first version of Mallerie's report appeared in the internal system.
He wrote that an unidentified juvenile suddenly entered the path of a marked emergency vehicle, that she concealed her hands near an unknown bag, and that she attempted to pull away while refusing repeated commands. He added that he used minimal guiding contact and observed no complaint of pain or visible injury.
The report had a problem beyond its contradictions. Mallerie wrote it after he knew multiple videos existed.
Sergeant Dwire called him at 8:14.
"Do not submit anything else," Dwire said. "You need counsel."
"It's accurate."
"Then let counsel review the evidence before you create more evidence."
"I know what I saw."
"Trent, that's not what I'm worried about."
At the Brooks home, Simone had turned off every television. Aaliyah sat in bed wearing an oversized Westbridge Wildcats T-shirt, an ice pack balanced on her shoulder. She asked whether the officer knew where they lived.
Simone checked every lock before answering.
"He is not allowed to contact us, but he asked my address. That was recorded. There are people watching this now."
"People were watching when he did it."
Simone had no comforting answer to that.
Leela asked her editor to keep the uncut witness video in a secure folder. The newsroom could report what the footage showed, but it could not responsibly claim to know every motive. She called the department for comment, documented the time, and refused to publish the child's address. Her editor complained about the slow pace.
Leela answered that a fast mistake would stay online longer than their correction.