Twenty minutes later, I’m sitting across from Luca in a coffee shop near the rink, watching him slide a thick folder across the table.
“Before I show you this,” he says carefully, “I need you to understand that what I’m about to tell you was obtained through... unofficial channels. Sources that prefer to remain anonymous.”
“Okay.”
“When Elliot mentioned your situation, I asked around for a few people to look into Detective Adler’s record.”
He opens the folder, revealing photocopied reports, incident summaries, witness statements. All bearing Evan’s name and badge number.
“Seven Internal Affairs complaints in the past five years,” Luca says quietly. “Abuse of authority, harassment, excessive force during domestic violence calls. All buried, all dismissed for ‘insufficient evidence.’”
I stare at the papers, seeing Evan’s patterns laid out in official language. The same controlling tactics he used on me, deployed against strangers who had the misfortune to encounter him on the worst days of their lives.
“There’s more,” Luca continues. “Three separate complaints from female colleagues about harassment and intimidation. All withdrawn after the complainants were transferred to different departments.”
“Why are you showing me this?”
“Because you need to know what kind of ammunition you have, if you ever need to use it.” His voice is serious. “My contact says there’s been a quiet investigation ongoing for months. They’re building a case, but they need more evidence. Something concrete.”
“And this helps me how?”
“Because it shows a pattern. And if you ever need leverage—if he pushes too hard or threatens too much—you have documentation that his reputation as an upstanding officer isn’t quite as clean as he pretends.”
I flip through the reports, seeing echoes of my own experience in other women’s words. “He complained that I was difficult and uncooperative.” “He made threats about what would happen if I pursued the matter.” “He used his position to intimidate me into compliance.”
“There’s something else,” Luca says, pulling out another document. “A restraining order filed against him two years ago by an ex-girlfriend. Dismissed when she suddenly moved to Portland and withdrew the complaint.”
“How did you get all this?”
“You don’t want to know the answer to that question,” he says simply. “But it’s all real. All documented. And if presented correctly, it could change how people see Detective Adler’s claims about stability and appropriate judgment.”
I sit back in my chair, mind racing. This information feels like holding a loaded weapon—powerful, dangerous, and something I hope I never have to use.
“Why?” I ask. “Why would you do this for me? You barely know me.”
Luca’s expression softens slightly. “Because Dex is my teammate. Because you sang at our barbecue and your daughter made Varga actually smile—which we didn’t know was possible. Because your kids deserve better than a father who uses fear as a parenting tool.”
He pauses, choosing his words carefully.
“And because I know what it’s like to live with someone who uses their authority to hurt people.”
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Just remember that you’re not defenseless. If he pushes too hard, if he threatens too much, you have options.”
Thursday morning, I dress carefully in my most conservative outfit—navy blazer, modest skirt, minimal jewelry. Professional but approachable. I’m representing not just myself, but the life I’ve built for my children.
The mediation center is less intimidating than a courthouse, designed to feel collaborative rather than adversarial. Jessica meets me in the lobby, and I show her the folder Luca gave me.
“This is explosive,” she says after reviewing the documents. “But I think we should hold it in reserve. Let’s see if we can resolve this without going nuclear.”
“What if he won’t be reasonable?”
“Then we let him know we have options. Sometimes the threat of exposure is more powerful than the exposure itself.”
The mediator, Patricia Carlisle, is a woman in her fifties with kind eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor. She explains theprocess: everyone gets to share their perspective, then we work together to find solutions that serve the children’s best interests.
Evan sits across the table with his lawyer, looking every inch the concerned father in his dress uniform. The same calculated image management, but in a room designed for compromise rather than combat.
