“Is this the smoking gun?” Mark asked, his voice shaking with intense, righteous fury.
“This isn’t just a smoking gun, Mr. Carter,” Robert said, standing up and sliding his phone out of his breast pocket. “This is the artillery strike. This satisfies every statutory requirement for felony conspiracy to commit child endangerment, tampering with public records, and official misconduct under color of authority.”
Robert dialed a ten-digit number, hit speakerphone, and set it on the glass table.
“Marcus,” Robert said when the line connected after three rings.
“Robert? I’m in the middle of preparing a docket,” a deep, gravelly voice replied.
“Drop the docket, Marcus. I’m sitting with Sarah and Mark Carter. And I am looking at forty-two gigabytes of decrypted district server data showing Arthur Vance and Evelyn Collins actively coordinating the deprivation of life-saving medical devices to elementary students to protect foundation endowments.”
There was a dead, heavy pause on the other end of the line.
“Are you telling me the Campbell files are real?” District Attorney Marcus Vance asked, his voice suddenly stripped of all administrative weariness.
“They are real, Marcus. And they are mirrored across three independent external servers,” Robert said evenly. “You can execute the search warrants today as a proactive prosecutor protecting the children of this county. Or you can explain to the press tomorrow why my office had to bypass you to file federal civil rights deprivation charges with the Department of Justice.”
“I’ll have the tactical squad at the administration building in forty-five minutes,” the DA said.
The line clicked dead.
—
