Harmon set a manila folder on the table. He didn't open it. He looked at Culvin with the same calm he had displayed in the corridor, which Culvin now understood was not a performance.
"Your union rep was contacted two hours ago," Harmon said. "After reviewing the preliminary charge list, he declined to provide representation. You're looking at this on your own."
Culvin's throat tightened. "What charges?"
Harmon opened the folder and turned it so Culvin could see the page.
Assault of a federal officer with a dangerous weapon. Obstruction of a federal investigation. Destruction of federal surveillance property.
He let Culvin read. Then he said, "These are the current charges. There may be additional charges, depending on what the broader investigation reveals."
"What broader investigation?" Culvin said.
Baines, who had been leaning against the closed door with her arms folded, spoke.
"There's something you should know about tonight's operation, Officer Culvin. The compound was equipped with counter-surveillance infrastructure. Signal scanners monitoring local law enforcement frequencies. When you keyed your radio to tell Sergeant Doss that you had made an arrest, that transmission went to your supervisor. It also went to every scanner within range that was tuned to your district's frequency."
She paused.
"Elijah Moss's people were monitoring those frequencies. Which is why the second-tier targets we had positioned for simultaneous arrest at a separate location were not at that location when our team arrived."
Culvin stared at her.
"You didn't just assault a federal agent," Baines said, in the same flat, informational tone she might use to read a report. "Your unauthorized radio transmission compromised the secondary component of an 18-month operation. The subjects we were attempting to take into custody tonight are currently in the wind."
The room felt smaller than it had before.
Culvin leaned forward, pressing his handcuffed wrists against the table. His eyes were red.
"I didn't know. I am telling you, I genuinely did not know who he was. He was in that building. He was wearing street clothes. He was in the dark."
"He identified himself," Harmon said. "Verbally. Clearly. More than once. He told you where to find physical evidence of his identity. You made a decision not to use any of that information."
"I thought he was lying."
"Why?" Harmon said.
Culvin opened his mouth and closed it again.
"Why did you decide he was lying?" Harmon said.
He wasn't pressing it. He asked it the way a person asks a question they already know the answer to. Not to embarrass, but to require the other person to say it out loud.
The silence lasted a long time.
"The answer to that question," Harmon finally said, "is going to be the center of every proceeding from this moment forward. The prosecutor will ask it. The judge will ask it. Internal Affairs was already notified an hour ago, and will ask it at length."
He closed the folder.