Chapter 6: What Ryker Tried Next
The county attorney's name was Gerald Fitch.
He had held the position for eleven years, survived three sheriffs, and had developed a particular talent for making problems disappear before they became public record.
He arrived at the sheriff's department at 5:47 p.m.
in a gray suit with his tie loosened, carrying a leather briefcase and the expression of a man who had been interrupted during dinner and was not going to let anyone forget it.
Ryker met him in the back office.
Miller had been sent home.
Brenda was still at the front desk, technically off-shift, technically staying voluntarily.
Fitch set his briefcase on the desk and looked at Ryker for a long moment without speaking.
"Tell me everything," he said.
"From the beginning.
Leave nothing out."
Ryker told him.
It took nine minutes.
Fitch did not interrupt once.
When Ryker finished, Fitch opened his briefcase, removed a legal pad, and wrote three words at the top.
He turned it so Ryker could read them.
*Do not speak.*
"To anyone," Fitch said.
"Not the press.
Not the FBI.
Not your deputies.
Not your wife.
Me.
Only me.
Do you understand?"
"Gerald, this is being blown completely out of—"
"Thomas." Fitch's voice dropped.
"There is a United States Senator sitting in a car with a two-star general right now.
The FBI has already contacted your dispatcher.
The Attorney General's office has a record of this call.
You added a charge at booking that was not present at the stop, and your body camera—" He stopped.
"Where is your body camera footage?"
Ryker said nothing.
Fitch set down his pen.
"Thomas.
Where is your body camera footage from this afternoon?"
"There was a technical issue."
The room was very quiet.
"A technical issue," Fitch repeated.
"The camera malfunctioned during the stop.
It happens.
The equipment is—"
"Miller's camera?"
Ryker's jaw moved.
"Also malfunctioned."
Fitch stood up.
He walked to the window.
He stood there for almost a full minute with his back to Ryker.
"The dispatch recordings," he said finally.
"Those are still intact?"
"Those are Brenda's system.
I don't—"
"I'm going to ask you one more question, Thomas, and I need you to think before you answer." Fitch turned around.
"Did you, or did you direct anyone else to, alter or delete any recording, log, or document related to this afternoon's detention?"
Ryker met his eyes.
"I want to handle this quietly.
I want to reach out to the general directly, explain that this was a misunderstanding, offer—"
"That is not what I asked you."
"A gesture of goodwill.
A formal apology.
Something that keeps this at the local level before it—"
"Thomas." Fitch picked up his legal pad and put it back in his briefcase.
He closed the clasp.
He picked up his briefcase.
"I am going to give you the name of a criminal defense attorney in Atlanta.
I am going to give you that name because as of this moment, I am no longer able to represent you in this matter."
Ryker stared at him.
"You work for this county."
"I work for this county," Fitch said.
"Not for you." He set a business card on the desk.
"Call that number tonight.
Don't wait until morning."
He walked out of the office.
His footsteps crossed the lobby.
The front door opened and closed.
Brenda did not look up from her desk as he passed.
After a moment, she reached under her desk and pressed stop on the small digital recorder she kept in the left drawer — the one she had started using eight months ago, after the second time she had called Senator Whitmore's office and nothing had happened.
She labeled the file with the date and time.
May you like
She saved it to the encrypted drive her nephew had set up for her the previous Christmas.
Then she went back to work.
