The Second Twin nodded.
“I did too.”
That mattered.
They were investigators.
They needed evidence.
But neither wanted their theory proved through another abuse of power.
Proof often meant someone had actually crossed the line.
There was nothing satisfying about that.
At the field office, wet clothes were replaced.
Statements began.
The First Twin recused himself from operational decisions involving the stop.
The Second Twin did the same wherever his direct involvement created conflicts.
Another supervisory team assumed control.
That was essential.
The case could not become two powerful brothers punishing a police officer who damaged their car.
It had to remain what it had been before the stop.
A corruption investigation.
Evidence first.
Personal anger nowhere near charging decisions.
The younger officer gave her statement that evening.
She had been with the department three years.
No disciplinary record.
Her voice shook.
She described the original stop.
The Captain had ordered her to assist after he spotted the Rolls.
There had been no moving violation.
No stolen-vehicle alert.
No matching suspect description.
The Captain told dispatch to “find something.”
That phrase had been captured on body camera.
Investigators played it.
Again.
And again.
The younger officer looked sick.
“Did you think the stop was lawful?”
She hesitated.
“At first I assumed he had information I didn’t.”
“When did that change?”
“When the registration came back.”
“Why didn’t you intervene?”
She stared at the table.
“He was my Captain.”
“That was not the question.”
She swallowed.
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Career.”
“Retaliation.”
“Getting transferred.”
The investigator nodded.
“Did you know he had retaliated before?”
She looked up.
That answer opened another door.
“Yes.”
She described an officer who challenged a cash seizure two years earlier.
Transferred to nights.
Then to a distant substation.
Then denied promotion.
Another officer questioned a towing contract.
Suddenly received poor evaluations.
The pattern widened.
By midnight, investigators had new names.
The twins were not in the interview room.
They learned only what they were authorized to learn afterward.
The First Twin went home without his Rolls-Royce.
A government sedan dropped him outside his house.
He stood in the driveway.
His garage was empty.
For some reason, that affected him more than expected.
Not the cost.
Not even the damage.
The Rolls had been the last place he and his brother sat as ordinary sons before the investigation swallowed the day.
He thought of the cemetery.
Their father’s grave.
The umbrella joke.
Then the crash.
He went inside.
Removed his shoes.
Found mud still dried along the edges.
Cemetery mud.
He left it.