Her recording was shot through glass, tinted at its upper edge by the red letters of the sign. It had sound—thin, muffled by the door, but there.
"It's my car. My registration is inside."
"Convenient story. Turn around."
Yost played it four times. The last time she closed her eyes and listened to the man give an officer, in eight words, everything he needed to do his job.
She interviewed Dale Rusk on a Thursday, his union representative beside him, the Garrity advisement read into the record. He came without sunglasses. She had known him eleven years and could not remember seeing his eyes in daylight. They were pale and very tired.
"What make was the BOLO vehicle?"
"Altima."
"What was Mr. Bellamy driving?"
"Camry." He said it before the rep could lean in.
"Did you note the make before contact?"
"No."
"The suspect was described in a dark hooded sweatshirt. What was Mr. Bellamy wearing?"
A long pause. "Golf shirt. Blue."
"Your camera activated after physical contact. Policy requires activation before. Why?"
"I was focused on the subject."