“But saying that now is easy.”
Price looked down.
“I keep replaying it.”
“That can become self-indulgent.”
Price looked up.
Marcus’s tone softened.
“Guilt feels useful because it hurts.”
“It isn’t automatically useful.”
“What do I do with it?”
“Next time, make a better decision.”
“That’s it?”
“Mostly.”
Price frowned.
“What if there isn’t a next time?”
“There will be.”
“Not exactly like that.”
“No.”
Marcus leaned back.
“But someone senior will be wrong.”
“Someone junior will be afraid.”
“Someone unpopular will need a witness.”
“You’ll have choices.”
Price nodded.
Then asked:
“Did you hate us that morning?”
Marcus thought.
“No.”
“Caldwell?”
“No.”
Price looked unconvinced.
Marcus continued.
“I was angry.”
“Later.”
“Not while it was happening?”
“Not exactly.”
“What were you thinking?”
Marcus smiled faintly.
“That my wrists hurt.”
Price laughed despite himself.
Marcus continued.
“And that everybody in the lobby was teaching me something.”
Price’s smile disappeared.
“About us?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Marcus looked at him.
“How expensive silence can become.”
Two years passed.
Riverside changed.
Not perfectly.
Nothing institutional changes perfectly.
Citizen complaints fell.
Then rose briefly after easier reporting made filing simpler.
Some critics claimed that meant reform had failed.
Marcus explained publicly that complaint volume alone was not a quality measure.
Sustained rates.
Processing time.
Repeat patterns.
Officer behavior.
Community survey data.
Those mattered too.
Stops decreased in several neighborhoods without crime surging.
Use-of-force incidents involving restrained subjects dropped sharply.
Officer injuries did not increase.
That mattered.
Morale surveys were mixed.
Some officers felt scrutiny increased.
Others reported greater confidence that supervisors could be challenged without retaliation.
Recruitment improved slowly.
Turnover among younger officers dropped.
The department remained imperfect.
But it became harder for informal power to hide.
That was the goal.
One December morning, Marcus entered roll call.
A new recruit sat in the front row.
Twenty-three.
Black.
Fresh uniform.
Nervous.
He recognized Marcus immediately.
Everyone did now.
The recruit stood.
Marcus waved him down.