Page 69 of Logan’s Way

This was the question that mattered. Angus met her eyes directly.

“I can’t explain how it differs from insubordination,” he said quietly. “I was conducting an investigation while on leave. I was accessing files I shouldn’t have accessed. I was making choices that prioritized what I believed was necessary over what departmental policy required. I can’t claim those actions were authorized or appropriate within the system.”

The panel exchanged glances. Calloway set his pen down.

“That’s an unusually direct answer, Sheriff Reid. Most officers in your position attempt to justify their actions by citing extenuating circumstances or arguing that outcomes validate methods.”

“Outcomes don’t validate methods,” Angus said. “I made choices I believed were necessary. Some of those choices violated policy. That doesn’t make them acceptable just because the investigation reached conclusions.”

Kovak studied him for a long moment. “And yet you chose to violate policy anyway. Why?”

“Because people were at risk, and I believed I had information that could help protect them. I weighed that protection against compliance and chose protection.”

“That’s exactly the kind of thinking that leads officers to operate outside accountability structures,” Calloway said, his voice harder now. “Individual judgment replacing collective authority. Personal certainty overriding institutional safeguards. You understand that’s not sustainable in law enforcement, don’t you?”

“I understand that.”

“And yet you did it anyway.”

“Yes.”

The silence that followed carried weight. Carol made notes. Kovak leaned back, her expression unreadable. Calloway closed his folder and folded his hands atop it.

“Sheriff Reid,” Calloway said slowly, “what would you do differently if you faced the same circumstances again?”

The question was a trap. Not malicious—just diagnostic. They were testing whether Angus had learned compliance or just learned to hide non-compliance better.

“I would coordinate through proper channels earlier in the investigation,” Angus said. “I would bring Deputy Garcia and other department members into the process sooner rather than attempting to work independently. I’d request formal approval for file access rather than assuming suspended credentials still granted that authority.”

“But you would still investigate,” Kovak observed.

“Yes.”

“Even if that investigation was explicitly prohibited during your leave?”

Angus held her gaze. “If people were at immediate risk and I had information that could protect them, yes. I would investigate. I would also accept the consequences of that choice, which is why I’m sitting here now.”

Calloway’s expression shifted—not approval exactly, but recognition of the logic and integrity behind the choice.

“You’re not making this easy for us, Sheriff Reid.”

“I’m trying to tell the truth.”

“The truth,” Carol said quietly, “is that you believe individual judgment can replace institutional authority when circumstances feel urgent. That’s fundamentallly incompatibile with how law enforcement functions.”

“I believe systems fail people,” Angus said carefully. “I believe there are gaps between what law allows and what justice requires. But I also believe that operating outside those systems makes me accountable only to myself, which is far more dangerous than any gap the system leaves unfilled.”

“And yet you operated outside the system anyway,” Kovak said.

“I did. And I was wrong to do so.”

The admission hung in the room like cold air. Not defiance. Not justification. Just acknowledgment that choosing to act had been choosing wrongly, regardless of outcome.

Carol glanced at her colleagues, some silent communication passing among them. Calloway nodded slightly. Kovak’s expression remained unreadable.

“Sheriff Reid,” Carol said, “the missing persons investigation you mentioned. Did it reach resolution?”

“It did.”