Agent Hammond reviewed the cases with the team.
"He's selecting language that has survived review before," she said. "We need to establish how those reports were evaluated, not simply assume we know why."
The investigators traced who had approved those reports. Sergeant Lucas Dwire's name appeared again and again.
On Monday morning, Westbridge city leaders held a news conference. Mayor Evelyn Price stood behind a row of microphones with Chief Pierce at her right. She called the video deeply disturbing and promised a transparent review.
When a reporter asked why Mallerie had remained on street duty after 14 complaints and a costly settlement, Pierce said personnel law prevented him from discussing prior allegations.
"Were you aware of those allegations?" Leela Monroe called from the second row.
"The department reviews every complaint under established policy."
"That was not the question."
Pierce ended the conference four minutes later.
Aaliyah watched a recording from the sofa. The swelling in her wrist had begun to recede, but the bruise on her shoulder was now purple at the center. Her teammates had filled a paper bag with cards, candy, and a small foam basketball covered in signatures.
She appreciated them and hated that they existed.
"They keep saying my name," she told Simone. "Do you want me to ask the stations not to use it?"
"It's already everywhere. That doesn't mean you owe anyone your face or your voice."
"If I don't talk, will people think I'm lying?"
Simone set aside her laptop.
"You are not responsible for convincing strangers."
The counselor placed colored pencils on the table and let Aaliyah choose where to sit. Nobody asked her to reenact the incident. She drew the intersection from above, placing herself at the edge of the page.
When the counselor asked what she wanted to change about the drawing, Aaliyah added a broad sidewalk and a friend waiting beside it.
She was not ready to cross yet.
"You told the truth to the investigators," Simone said later. "The videos show what happened. You are allowed to be 12."
Aaliyah looked at the cards.
"Malik talked on television."
"Malik chose to. You get to choose, too."
For the first time since Thursday, Aaliyah smiled faintly.
"Can my choice be no?"
"Absolutely."
The smile vanished almost as quickly.
"I don't want to cross North Mercer again."
"Then we won't. Not yet."
Simone arranged trauma counseling with a therapist who worked with children.
During the first session, Aaliyah drew the intersection from above. The patrol car was a black rectangle blocking the white crossing lines. Every bystander was represented by a small blue circle holding a phone. She drew herself so tiny that she nearly disappeared beside the vehicle.
"Why is everyone else blue?" the therapist asked.
"Because the phones made them feel like one person," Aaliyah said. "Like one big person who could see him."
"Did that make you feel safer?"
Aaliyah considered it.
"Later. Not while it was happening."
At police headquarters, the internal mood shifted from defensive to frightened. Federal investigators had not accused the department as a whole of criminal conduct, but preservation requests expanded. City attorneys ordered personnel not to delete emails or text messages related to Mallerie's use-of-force complaints, settlement agreements, or the Brooks incident.
Captain Rosa Mendes, who had supervised internal affairs four years earlier, read the notice twice.
She had been transferred to administrative services after repeatedly objecting to the way complaint findings were softened before reaching the chief.
Mendes contacted Agent Hammond through counsel. They met in a federal building conference room on Tuesday evening.
Mendes brought no stolen files and made no claim she could not support. She brought dates, case numbers, and an account of how the system worked.
Investigators, she explained, often began with a proposed finding based on interviews and video. Cases involving favored officers then moved through a review meeting attended by command staff and a city labor attorney.
Words changed. "Not justified" became "policy unclear." "Inconsistent statement" became "insufficient evidence." If no policy section addressed the precise conduct, commanders treated that gap as permission rather than a reason to improve the policy.
"Was Mallerie favored?" Hammond asked.
"He made arrests, answered calls, and volunteered for overtime. His supervisors described him as proactive."
"What did proactive mean?"
"High stop numbers, high search numbers. He produced statistics that looked like productivity if nobody asked who was being stopped or what those stops accomplished."