2 days after that, Wendell filed a Georgia Open Records Act request with the Collier Ridge precinct. He requested all dispatch logs for 911 calls originating from Collier Ridge subdivision addresses in the preceding 12 months. All incident reports involving pedestrian or bicycle stops within the subdivision during the same period and all body camera footage associated with the Sergeant Barrett Tull's patrol assignments on the dates of Micah's documented stops. The request was typed.
It was formatted correctly. It cited the Georgia Open Records Act and the provision requiring a timely response. Corporal Annayia received the request at the front desk. She logged it, stamped it, and forwarded it to the records division.
The records clerk, a woman named Portman, read it twice, and walked it to Granger's office. Granger read it. He set it on his desk beside the original complaint. He looked at the two documents side by side.
The formatting was identical. The margins were identical. The citation style was identical. Who is this guy?
He said to no one in particular. He did not answer his own question. He initialed the records request and sent it back to Portman with a note. Process per standard timeline.
No expedite. Three business days. That was the legal requirement. Granger intended to take exactly three business days, not a minute less.
Because speed in his experience communicated concern and concern communicated vulnerability. And vulnerability was something Niles Granger had spent his entire career making sure his precinct never showed. But on the second business day, something happened that Granger had not anticipated. Naen Ashford called 911 again.
The call was placed at 5:51 a.m. on a Wednesday. The transcript, which would later be obtained through the same records request Wendell had already filed, read as follows, at 911. What is your emergency? The dispatcher's voice was flat, procedural.