“Define stupid,” I questioned, already moving toward the door, my stride more purposeful than it had been in days. Without my badge weighing me down, the path forward suddenly seemed clearer than ever.
I headed to the parking lot. Seven minutes I’d been without my badge, and already the world looked clearer, like I’d seen everything through a filter that had suddenly been removed. I slid behind the steering wheel. I pulled my personal cell from my pocket, scrolling through contacts I hadn’t needed in years, people who owed me favors across agencies and jurisdictions, people who’d still take my call even without “Chief” in front of my name.
The first call went to Gaylen Washington, an old army buddy who’d landed at the justice department.
“Gaylen, it’s Ronan Banks. Hey, I need information on a federal escalation review happening today in Birmingham. Dr. Nia Price.”
“Ronan? Man, I heard you got yourself in some hot water. Is that true?”
“All true. Now, I need to know about that review. Time and location. Please.”
I could practically hear him weighing his professional risk. “Why are you asking about this, Ronan? You involved somehow?”
“I just need the information. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
A sigh traveled through the phone as I heard typing. “Hold on . . . Conference Room C, Hoover Federal Building, two p.m. but Ronan, I gotta tell you?—”
“Thanks. I owe you.” I disconnected before he tried to talk me out of whatever he thought I was planning. I glanced at the dashboard clock. I just have over an hour to get there and figure out my approach.
My next call went to Judge Tricia Castle, who’d served with my father on the Baptist deacons’ board before her appointment to the federal bench. I hadn’t spoken to her in years, but her voice warmed when she realized who was calling.
“Ronan Banks! Lord, it’s been too long. How have you been?”
“I’m well, thanks, but I need your advice on an urgent matter.” I briefed Judge Castle on the situation, and her silence on the other end grew with each detail.
Her demeanor shifted from that of a family friend to that of a federal judge. “You understand what you’re considering. Interfering in a classified review process is?—”
I cut in. “I know the risks. I’m not asking for your blessing, just your knowledge. If someone wanted to provide character testimony at such a review, what would be the best approach?”
“Firsthand observations and facts only, nothing that can be misconstrued as opinion or emotion. And Ronan? May God be with you.”
“Thank you.”
I made a couple more calls, each of which provided another puzzle piece. By the time I started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, I had a plan, not foolproof, not guaranteed, but something solid enough to stand on.
I drove toward the federal building like a man with nothing left to lose, which wasn’t entirely true. I still had my reputation,my pension, my future employment prospects, and all the practical considerations that had guided my career choices. All the things that suddenly faded beside the image of Nia’s face on that screen, labeled as a threat for doing exactly what this country claimed to value: speaking truth, challenging power, and demanding better.
At the federal building, I parked in the visitor garage and took a moment to gather my thoughts. I sat there, thinking about what I was about to do. Nia Price was a person, not just a threat assessment on a PowerPoint slide.
I put my notebook in my jacket pocket and got out of the car, straightening my shoulders as I walked to the building’s entrance. The security checkpoint was ahead, with metal detectors, X-ray machines, and armed guards.
I had no badge to ease my passage, no professional courtesy to invoke, just a civilian with a purpose, subject to the same scrutiny as anyone else.
The guards were professional but thorough, eyeing my empty belt with mild curiosity. One of them, a younger man, studied my ID a beat longer than necessary.
“Chief Banks? My brother’s on the force. He says you’re good people,” he commented, recognizing me.
I nodded, not sure how to respond to praise when I was about to go against everything that guard’s brother thought I stood for. “Appreciate that.”
He handed back my ID with a respectful nod. “Go ahead, sir.”
The elevator ride to the fourth floor gave me one last chance to rehearse my approach. I knew they wouldn’t welcome my input and would probably try to remove me as soon as I walked in. I’d have only minutes, maybe seconds, to make my case before security showed up. Every word would have to count.
Conference Room C was at the end of the hall. Through the frosted glass, I could see people already gathered inside. Nia’sfuture was being decided by people who had probably never met her, never spoken to her, and never seen past the label of “disruptor.”
My hand paused on the doorknob. This was the moment that separated before and after, career preservation, and moral clarity.
Nia’s words from the cabin echoed in my mind.“What happens when we leave here? When you put the uniform back on, and I go back to criticizing your department?”I didn’t have an answer then, but I had one now.
