I know. I'm on your side. But there are whispers that you should handle this quietly for the good of the judiciary. Handle this quietly? The words tasted bitter.
You mean let them get away with it? That's not what I said. It's what you meant. After hanging up, Mariah sat motionless, justice's collar still clutched in her hand. The system she dedicated her life to was already closing ranks.
Not around her, but around her dogs killers. A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. Judge Ellison, internal affairs, ma'am. May we have a word? Two detectives, one man, one woman, sat across from Mariah at her kitchen table.
They'd introduce themselves as detectives Morgan and Perez. "We understand this is a difficult time," Detective Morgan began. his voice practiced in false sympathy. But we need to get your statement about what happened this morning. Mariah recounted everything. Harold's known prejudice, justice's calm behavior, the officer's contradictory orders, the shot without warning.
And you're certain the dog didn't lunge at the officers? Detective Perez asked. Justice was a trained service animal. He would never lunge unless I was in danger. But given your condition, Morgan said delicately, is it possible you misinterpreted the sequence of events.
Mariah's face hardened. My blindness doesn't affect my hearing or my memory, detective. I know exactly what happened. Of course, Perez interjected smoothly. But trauma can affect perception.
And without being able to see, "There are dozens of witnesses," Mariah cut in. "Neighbors who saw everything. People with video recordings," the detectives exchanged glances. "We've taken statements from several witnesses," Morgan said. "Their accounts vary, and Officer Keller's report indicates your dog charged at them, barking aggressively.
That's a lie." His report also mentions that you were unable to control the animal when ordered to do so. Mariah's hands formed fists on the table. Justice was under perfect control until your officers created chaos by shouting contradictory orders. Well, Perez said, closing her notebook, "We'll continue investigating. The body cam footage should clarify things.
I want a copy of that footage," Mariah said immediately. Morgan cleared his throat. Unfortunately, there seems to have been a technical issue. The footage was corrupted during transfer. It is working to recover it.
Mariah didn't believe him for a second. How convenient. After the detectives left, Mariah locked her door and leaned against it, exhaustion washing over her. She'd spent decades in courtrooms, could recognize perjury and obstruction when she heard it. They were building a wall of lies, brick by bureaucratic brick.
She made her way to the kitchen for a glass of water when she heard it. The soft purr of a car engine idling outside her house. Moving carefully to the window, she cracked the blinds open, a habit from when she could see. "Is someone there?" she called to her empty house. Her neighbor Tom's voice came through the window from his porch across the street.
Police car unmarked just sitting there watching your house. Mariah felt a chill run down her spine. They just flashed their lights. Tom called a moment later. Now they're driving off.
The message couldn't have been clearer. We are watching you. We know where you live. Mariah moved through her darkened house, double-checking every lock. The day's events played in an endless loop in her mind.
Justice's body falling, Keller's sneering voice, the detectives gaslighting, the car watching her home. They thought her blindness made her vulnerable. They thought they could intimidate her into silence. She made her way back to her kitchen table and sat down. Her fingers found Justice's collar again, the metal tags cool against her skin.
"You killed my dog," she whispered into the darkness. But you won't kill my spirit. She reached for the digital recorder she used for legal notes, her fingers finding the familiar buttons with practiced ease. She pressed record. Case notes, August 12th.
Subject: Civil rights violation and unlawful killing of service animal justice. Badge number SD42781. Her voice grew stronger with each word. Perpetrators: Officers Daniel Briggs and Mark Keller. East Precinct.
Witnesses: minimum 12 neighbors present at scene. Evidence: multiple civilian videos contradicting official report. She continued methodically laying out the facts as she would for a case, identifying potential legal strategies, noting witnesses to contact. This was familiar territory. The careful building of a case, brick by factual brick.
First step, secure all video evidence before it disappears. Second, formal complaint with Department of Justice Civil Rights Division, bypassing local channels already showing signs of obstruction. Her fingers moved over Justice's collar as she spoke, drawing strength from the connection to him. They think because I can't see. I can't fight, she said into the recorder.
They're about to learn how wrong they are. The morning sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows, but Mariah Ellison found no warmth in it. The house felt emptier than ever without Justice's nails clicking on the hardwood floors or his soft breathing beside her bed. She reached for her phone and pressed a familiar contact. Helen, it's Mariah.
I need your help. Helen Monroe's voice, steady as always, came through the line. I heard what happened. It's all over the legal circles. Tell me what you need.
I need allies, people I can trust. Can you come over? And could you call David Cho? If anyone knows how to fight this kind of battle, it's him. I'll be there in an hour and I'll call David right now.
Mariah hung up and sat at her kitchen table, running her fingers over the smooth wood surface. For the first time in years, she felt a drift. Without justice to guide her, even navigating her own home seemed more challenging. But it wasn't just physical guidance she missed. It was his presence, his warmth, his unwavering loyalty.
The doorbell rang precisely one hour later. "It's Helen," came the voice from outside. David is with me. Mariah opened the door and Helen immediately embraced her. Despite being 68, Helen Monroe carried herself with the same authority she'd had on the federal bench for decades.
Judge Ellison, David Cho said, his voice tight with controlled anger. I'm so sorry about justice. Thank you for coming, David. Mariah gestured them inside. Please call me Mariah.
We're not in court today. They settled in her living room, Helen guiding Mariah to her favorite armchair. "I've already started preliminary research," David said, pulling out papers from his briefcase. "Civil rights violations, violation of the Americans with Disabilities Act, unlawful destruction of property, though I hate calling justice property." "He was family," Mariah said quietly. "Yes, he was," Helen agreed. and what they did was criminal.
"I need to know what I'm up against," Mariah said. "The police union has already issued their statement painting justice as aggressive. The internal affairs detectives tried to gaslight me yesterday, suggesting I couldn't understand what happened because I'm blind." David's voice hardened. "Classic playbook. Discredit the victim.
Protect the officers. I requested the body cam footage," Mariah continued. They claim it was lost in transfer. Lost? Helen scoffed.
Convenient? Too convenient, David agreed. I'll file motions today demanding all video evidence be preserved. We'll also request all radio communications. The 911 call transcript.