Tyler closed his eyes.
"You were there."
His voice was barely audible.
"Yes."
The room went silent.
I had expected denial.
Instead, I felt a chill.
"Tell me."
He looked at his hands.
"I drove him."
"What?"
"He'd been getting worse. Tremors. Balance. Mom was working, so I drove him to the appointment."
"Then why was he parked?"
"He insisted on driving home."
A faint, sad smile appeared and vanished.
"He hated being dependent."
That sounded like Daniel.
Too much like Daniel.
Tyler continued.
"I went across the street for food while he checked in. When I came back, his truck was gone."
He rubbed his forehead.
"He was sitting outside."
My anger began to fracture into something else.
"What happened?"
"He told me the police supervisor said the placard wasn't his."
"Mercer."
Tyler nodded.
"I went to the impound yard."
The notation returned to me.
FEE WAIVED BY T. GRIGGS.
"I argued with them until they let me get the truck."
"At seventeen?"
"Yeah."
"You got his walker?"
"Eventually."
His eyes glistened.
"Dad fell in the lobby while I was gone."
I looked down.
Kincaid closed his eyes.
Tyler's voice cracked.
"He broke his wrist."
Nobody had told me that.
"Why did he never tell me?"
Tyler laughed bitterly.
"Maybe because you weren't calling."
The words struck cleanly.
I didn't defend myself.
He was right.
Tyler wiped at one eye angrily.
"After that, Dad changed."
"He was sick."
"He was humiliated."
I looked at him.
"Then how did you become this?"
His jaw tightened.
"Become what?"
"The man who did the same thing to me."
Silence.
I pushed the complaint toward him.
"Your father wrote that Mercer knew his permit was valid."
Tyler stared at the signature.
"He told me it was a misunderstanding."
"Mercer?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"After Dad died."
The room seemed colder.
Tyler continued.
"He came to the funeral."
Kincaid cursed under his breath.
"He told me my father had become confused near the end. Said the complaint was exaggerated. Said he felt terrible about what happened."
"And you believed him?"
"I was eighteen!"
His voice rose.
Then he stopped.
His shoulders sagged.
"I needed to believe somebody."
I understood more than I wanted to.
"Mercer helped you join the department."
Tyler nodded.
"He wrote my recommendation."
Ortiz stepped forward.
"And later referred you to Desert Valley?"
Tyler stared at her.
"Don't answer unless you want to."
She sat down.
"You have the right to counsel. I'm not conducting a formal custodial interview right now."
He gave a humorless laugh.
"Feels pretty formal."
I looked at him.
"Were you taking money?"
Tyler's face went still.
There it was.
The question that mattered.
His eyes met mine.
"No."
Ortiz's expression did not change.
"The records show payments associated with your initials."
"They weren't payments to me."
"What were they?"
He hesitated.
"Refunds."
Ortiz frowned.
"Explain."
Tyler stared at the photograph of Daniel.
Then something in him broke.
"I've been trying to undo it."
Nobody spoke.
"What?" I asked.
He looked at me.
"Those tows. The ones that were bad. The ones Mercer pushed through."
My pulse quickened.
"You made them."
"Some."
"And then?"
"I contacted Desert Valley afterward. Told them to waive charges. Paid some myself."
Ortiz leaned forward.
"Why are the transactions coded TG?"
"Because Earl's manager needed an authorization name."
"Earl knew?"
"No. Different department."
I looked at Tyler.
"Then why harass me?"
His face twisted.
"I don't know."
"That's not good enough."
"I know."
"You called my papers fake."
"I know."
"You grabbed me."
"I know."
"You were going to tow my van."
His eyes filled.
"I know."
I slammed my palm onto the table.
"Then tell me why!"
Tyler flinched.
For a moment, I saw Daniel in him.
Not in the face.
In the eyes.
Afraid.
Ashamed.
Cornered by something he'd hidden too long.
Finally he whispered, "Because Mercer was watching."
Ortiz went completely still.
"What?"
Tyler swallowed.
"He's been watching me for months."
"Why?"
"Because he knows I copied the records."
Kincaid stood.
"The anonymous files."
Tyler nodded.
Ortiz stared at him.
"You're the source?"
My breath caught.
Kincaid whispered, "Jesus."
Tyler looked at me.
"I sent the first package eight months ago."
Everything I thought I understood shifted.
"You reported Mercer?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I finally found Dad's original complaint."
He tapped the paper.
"Not the cleaned-up version in the department file. This one."
Kincaid frowned.
"How?"
"Old archive box. Mercer told me to destroy files that had passed retention."
Ortiz said, "And you didn't."
"No."
"I found my father's name."
Tyler's eyes went back to the photograph.
"I read what Mercer did."
His voice dropped.
"Then I found other names."
Samuel Reed.
Eleven complainants.
Disabled veterans.
Towed vehicles.
Dismissed complaints.
"I realized Dad wasn't confused."
He looked at me.
"Mercer lied to me for seventeen years."
No one moved.
I felt the anger inside me lose its simple shape.
It would have been easier if Tyler Griggs were only a cruel man.
People are easier to hate when they fit neatly inside the story you've built for them.
But human beings rarely cooperate.
Ortiz asked, "Why didn't you come directly to OIG?"
"I didn't know who Mercer had."
"Meaning?"
"He always knew when complaints were coming."