She Was Harassed by Two Officers at a Gas Station, But Everything Changed When They Learned Who She Was

Priya nodded. “I know Judge Delgado. She hates corrupt cops more than anyone I’ve ever met. Her grandson was killed by a dirty officer in Houston. She’ll do it.”

Brooklyn felt something close to relief. Not quite hope—she’d learned not to hope—but at least a sense that the plan might work.

“One problem,” Priya said. “You still need that ledger. Without it, they can claim the recordings are taken out of context. They can claim the bank records are falsified. But if you have Brennan’s own handwritten records—”

“I know. Can you get it?”

“I’m going to try.”

“That’s not a plan.”

“It’s the only plan I have.”

Brooklyn finished her coffee. “In the meantime, prepare everything else. Assume I won’t get the ledger. Can we still make the case?”

“We can make a hell of a case,” Priya said. “But with the ledger, it’s ironclad.”

“Then I’ll get it.” Brooklyn didn’t know how yet, but she had four days.

Wednesday morning, Brooklyn drove to Carlos’s garage. It was destroyed. The front window was smashed. Tools scattered across the parking lot. One of the hydraulic lifts had been toppled over. Spray paint across the walls: “Snitches get buried.”

Carlos sat on the curb, head in his hands. His wife stood next to him, holding their two kids close. The children were crying.

Brooklyn parked and got out slowly.

“Don’t,” Carlos said without looking up. “Don’t come near us.”

“Carlos, I’m sorry. I’ll get you protection.”

“Protection?” He finally looked at her. His right eye was swollen shut, purple and black. Blood crusted around his nose. “Where was your protection last night when three men kicked down my door? Where was your protection when they held a gun to my daughter’s head?”

Brooklyn felt like she’d been punched. “What?”

“They came to my house. Two a.m. Ski masks. Knew my kids’ names, knew where they go to school, knew my wife’s work schedule.” Carlos stood up, wincing. “They said if I talk to you again, they’ll kill my family. Not me. My family.”