“And Mendoza’s.”
“And public defenders.”
“And Deputy Ruiz.”
“And others.”
He looked at Jamal.
“If nothing had been documented before me, I would be one angry lawyer with a broken license.”
Jamal thought.
“So what happens?”
“I don't know.”
“You're the monitor.”
“Still don't know.”
Jamal smiled despite himself.
“At least you're honest.”
That became the hardest part of the next year.
People expected certainty.
Investigation produced layers.
Cash handling showed serious failures, but not every missing amount was theft.
Some involved delayed deposits.
Bad forms.
Weak reconciliation.
One clerk had made repeated errors without personal gain.
She was retrained, not charged.
Tow practices were legal under state law in several cases even though fees were punitive.
Reform required policy changes, not villain hunting.
Other findings were uglier.
Two deputies had repeatedly extended traffic stops without documented cause.
One had searched vehicles after drivers refused consent, then written reports suggesting consent was given.
Harlan had signed off on multiple reports despite body-camera footage contradicting them.
Not all body cameras were missing.
The department had purchased them two years earlier.
Harlan personally exempted command staff, including himself.
The cash issue eventually centered on a property room account.
$43,600 over five years could not be reconciled.
That did not mean Harlan stole $43,600.
The state investigation traced some to bad coding.
Some to refunds recorded elsewhere.
Around $11,000 remained unexplained.
Then Deputy Ruiz identified something investigators had missed.
A handwritten tow ledger.
Old-fashioned.
Kept inside Harlan’s office.
Dates.
Vehicle descriptions.
Initials.
Some entries marked “R.”
Malcolm asked what R meant.
Ruiz said:
“Release.”
Investigator asked:
“Release to who?”
Ruiz looked toward Harlan’s office.
“Usually owner.”
“Usually?”
She nodded.
“Sometimes cash.”
The county had allowed cash payment for tow-release fees at the sheriff’s desk years earlier before moving to electronic payments.
Harlan had continued accepting cash after the policy changed.
He claimed he was helping drivers when the payment system failed.
That may have been true initially.
Records later showed several cash releases never entered into county accounts.
Now the public-integrity investigation had a narrower, provable issue.
Not broad corruption.
Specific transactions.
Specific money.
Specific reports.
Harlan was placed on administrative leave by the county board pending investigation.
He called Malcolm that night.
Malcolm almost did not answer.
Rebecca advised him to let voicemail handle it.
Then Harlan called again.
Malcolm answered.
“Sheriff.”
“Not currently.”
His voice sounded tired.
“What can I do for you?”
“You happy?”
Malcolm looked out his apartment window.
Phoenix lights.
“No.”
“Bull.”
“I’m not happy.”
“You destroyed my career.”
“No.”
Harlan laughed bitterly.
“You federal people always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Pretend consequences appear from the sky.”
Malcolm waited.
Harlan continued:
“I spent thirty years in that county.”
“Pulled people out of wrecks.”
“Found missing kids.”
“Sat with families after suicides.”
“Chased armed men nobody else wanted to chase.”
“You write a report and suddenly I’m a monster.”
Malcolm remained quiet.