The physical pain was considerable, but what troubled me most was the silence of the witnesses.
I had watched people record a man being assaulted without asking whether he needed help.
When the medical team finished its initial assessment, Arthur approached me.
"Marcus, I am deeply sorry."
"How many complaints have been filed against this branch?"
He hesitated.
"I would need to check."
"Then check."
Within the hour, the bank's internal complaint records were placed before me.
The files contained allegations of discriminatory treatment, aggressive security interventions, and customers being denied routine services without adequate explanation.
Several complaints named Eleanor.
Others described Hank.
I read each one carefully.
Some had been closed after internal reviews, while others had been dismissed for insufficient evidence.
One file caught my attention.
A customer had complained that Eleanor refused to verify a legitimate financial document because she believed the customer could not possibly possess that amount of money.
The language was painfully familiar.
I turned the page.
The complaint had been closed without disciplinary action.
"Who approved this?" I asked.
Arthur looked at the signature.
His own name was there.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then Arthur lowered his eyes.
"I relied on the branch manager's recommendation."
"And did you speak to the customer?"
"No."
"Did you review the footage?"
"No."
I closed the folder.
"Then today didn't begin with Eleanor."
Arthur said nothing.
"It began when this institution decided that complaints from certain customers weren't worth investigating."
Eleanor stood nearby, listening.
Her earlier confidence had disappeared.
"Mr. Vance," she whispered, "please understand that I didn't know who you were."