Nobody answered.
Chloe Parker stood up from the folding chair at the end. She walked eight steps to the desk and put a small black drive down on it. "Twenty-two minutes, four seconds," she said. "I was told to delete it. I did delete it. That's a copy I made first."
Kyle said her name once, very quietly.
"You want to finish that sentence?" the deputy said. "You can finish it into my notebook."
They watched it on the wall screen Martin used for fight tape.
They watched Gianna Archer stop at the edge of the mat and ask about the 10:00 class. They watched a man six inches taller lift a dead man's name into the light and ask the room who bought it. They watched sixty people laugh. They watched Tanya Burke stand up and get told to sit down. They watched two fists take hold of a white lapel and pull sideways. The ceiling microphone caught the sound of the shoulder seam letting go. One of the clinic women made a noise and put her hand flat against her mouth. They watched a belt come off a girl's waist and go into a trash can. They watched a regional champion square up to a phone and say twice, in his own voice, with his own face, "My call, my floor, my name on it."
Then they watched fourteen seconds.
Then they watched an 18-year-old roll a man onto his side and tip his chin up. She knelt there, shaking, palm flat on his ribs until he started swearing at her.
Kramer stopped the playback and let the room sit in the white light.
Jake Dawson stood up at the end of the row. "I want it on the record that everything she just did to me, she did after we took her clothes apart," he said. "And she caught my head. I didn't even hit the mat." He sat back down and put his hands over his eyes.
Martin Keenan was crying without making any sound. Tanya Burke had one arm around the woman beside her. Chloe Parker was standing very straight by the desk with her chin up and her car keys already in her hand. Kyle Morrison was the color of the wall behind him, and he was not looking at anyone.
And Mason Clark was staring at the frozen frame on the screen: a girl in a torn jacket folding it in half, and in half again, setting it down with both hands.
He got out of the folding chair. He walked past Kramer, past the desk, out onto the middle of the red mat. Every person in that room watched him do it. A phone in the second row was filming. He went down onto both knees. He knelt there for a long time before he said anything.