Not amused.
“Of course.”
Chief Henley said:
“Camille.”
“Yes?”
“Are you there for the compliance meeting?”
Jalen looked toward his mother.
“What meeting?”
Camille’s eyes closed for half a second.
She had forgotten.
Or hoped he would not hear.
Brenner looked at her too.
Chief Henley continued:
“The one with Briarwood ownership.”
Camille said quietly:
“Yes.”
The officer’s face changed for the third time.
This one lasted.
He knew now.
Jalen did not.
“Mom?”
Camille looked at him.
Later.
He hated that word.
Brenner asked:
“You’re Camille Brooks?”
She stared.
“I told you.”
“No.”
His voice lowered.
“Camille Brooks from Whitman, Brooks and Hale?”
“Yes.”
Jalen looked between them.
He knew his mother was a lawyer.
He did not know why the officer suddenly looked as though someone had removed the floor beneath him.
Camille had spent twenty-three years practicing employment and civil-rights litigation.
For the past six months, her firm had also served as independent outside counsel to Briarwood Properties, the company owning the mall.
Not to defend the mall against customers.
To investigate repeated complaints about policing and private-security interactions on Briarwood property.
Especially contacts involving teenagers.
Especially Black and Latino teenagers.
Especially Officer Scott Brenner.
Camille had never told Jalen his name.
She had not wanted police complaints entering their home.
She had not wanted him looking at every officer and wondering whether his mother had investigated that person.
She had definitely never expected her son to become part of the file.
Brenner said:
“This is a conflict.”
Camille nodded.
“Yes.”
“For you.”
“Yes.”
She looked at Jalen.
“Which is why I am not investigating this incident.”
Brenner seemed surprised.
Camille continued into the phone:
“Chief Henley, I want another supervisor here.”
“I also want mall surveillance preserved from two-fifteen through the end of this contact.”
“Officer Brenner’s body camera, if active.”
“It is active,” Henley said.
Camille looked toward Brenner’s chest.
There it was.
Small black camera above the badge.
Relief moved through her.
“And every dispatch or complaint record connecting the recent skateboard theft to my son.”
Henley answered:
“Understood.”
Brenner said:
“You’re treating me like I committed a crime.”
Camille looked at him.
“No.”
“I’m treating what happened as something that needs a record.”
Jalen stared at his mother.
He would remember that sentence for years.
A sergeant arrived six minutes later.
Officer Brenner left the plaza.
Not handcuffed.
Not publicly fired.
Not humiliated beyond what the facts had already created.
Camille insisted on that.
Jalen did not understand.
He wanted something visible.
An apology.
A suspension announced immediately.
The officer being forced to admit he had been wrong.
Instead Sergeant Allison Vega took statements.
Photographed the cracked phone.
Photographed the skateboard.
Confirmed J.B. carved into the deck.
Obtained the original theft report.
The stolen skateboard was blue.
Not green.
Different manufacturer.
Different wheel color.
Different age estimate for the suspect.
The report described two white teenage boys.
Jalen read that part twice.