Carla made a sound that might have been a laugh. "You think like a cop."
"I think like a soldier," Jade said. "Same instinct, different uniform."
She hung up and called Layla. Layla had been awake since before Jade's early call; by the time Jade reached her now, she was already drafting.
"Section 1983," Layla said without preamble. "Federal civil rights claim: Harlan, Caldwell, and the City of Clover Ridge. We are not filing a complaint; we are filing a statement. We are going to lay out every single piece of this in federal court. And we are going to make it impossible to look away."
"What do we have to back it up?"
"Evelyn's footage of both prior incidents, the manufactured complaint timeline, the financial connection between Caldwell and Meridian Group, and affidavits." Layla paused. "I put out a call for witnesses this morning through Marcus's office. Jade, we have signed statements already from Clover Ridge residents willing to go on record about Harlan—11 from the 14 she had collected herself from the flood of messages after the video, from people who had been sitting on their stories for years waiting for somewhere safe to put them."
"File it," Jade said.
"Already writing the final draft," Layla said. "I will have it in by this afternoon."
The obstruction charge fell apart before midday. Marcus called, and even over the phone she could hear the satisfaction he was trying to keep out of his voice.
"The county prosecutor reviewed the complaint this morning," he said. "Declined to prosecute. She is not moving forward with it."
Jade exhaled slowly. "Why not?"
"Because it was garbage," Marcus said plainly. "The submission was so thin, she called me personally to let me know she found it—and I am quoting here—'an embarrassment to the office.' She is not someone who answers to Caldwell. She took one look at what they filed and wanted nothing to do with it."
Jade wrote it down, drew a firm line through criminal complaint. Two down.