By page two hundred, he understood why several longtime commanders were furious that the city had selected somebody from outside.
Ridgeport was not a bad department.
That distinction mattered to Marcus.
Most of its officers had clean records.
Many had spent years serving difficult neighborhoods with professionalism.
The city’s violent-crime clearance rate remained above the regional average.
Its emergency-response times were respectable.
Training standards on paper were strong.
The problem was culture.
Specifically, the department had developed two cultures.
One was visible in recruiting brochures.
Service.
Professionalism.
Accountability.
Respect.
The other lived in hallways, locker rooms, informal warnings, and unwritten rules.
Don’t embarrass another officer.
Don’t question a supervisor in front of civilians.
Handle problems internally.
Protect the badge first.
Explain later.
The external review used careful language.
Marcus did not.
To him, loyalty that demanded silence around misconduct was not loyalty.
It was cowardice wearing a uniform.
He turned another page.
Sergeant Wade Harlan’s name appeared for the fourth time.
Marcus stopped.
Harlan had eighteen years with Ridgeport.
Eleven commendations.
Two lifesaving awards.
Four sustained complaints.
Nine unsustained.
Three supervisory notes involving excessive profanity toward civilians.
One internal memorandum accusing him of “creating a hostile learning environment for junior patrol officers.”
No formal demotion.
No suspension longer than three days.
Several command officers had described him as “old school.”
Marcus hated that phrase.
Old school could mean disciplined.
Experienced.
Patient.
Demanding.
It could also mean everyone had agreed not to say the more accurate words.
Marcus closed the report.
At 6:10, his phone rang.
Deputy Chief Laura Mitchell.
“Morning, Chief.”
“You’re awake early.”
“So are you.”
“I’m old.”
“You’re forty-four.”
“Exactly.”
Laura laughed.
She had served twenty-one years in Ridgeport.
Unlike several commanders, she had openly supported hiring an outsider.
Marcus did not yet know whether that made her brave or strategic.
He would find out.
“You still planning to come in unofficially?” she asked.
“Mayor’s introduction is Monday.”
“I know.”
“Command staff thinks your first visit is Monday.”
“That sounds intentional.”
“It is.”
Laura became quiet.
Marcus looked toward the external review.
“I want to see the building before people prepare for me.”
“You think they’ll perform.”
“Everyone performs for a new boss.”
“You included?”
“Especially me.”
Laura sighed.
“Security needs to know you’re coming.”
“One person knows.”
“Who?”
“City administrator.”
“Marcus.”
“I’ll enter through the public lobby.”
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
“You’re the incoming chief.”
“Monday.”
“You were sworn administratively yesterday.”
Marcus smiled.
“You read the email.”
“I helped draft the email.”