Tommy’s decision, though terrifying, infused Calvin and me with a desperate new energy. If Tommy was willing to testify, we needed to make his testimony as impactful as possible. That meant physical evidence.
“The prosthetic leg,” Calvin declared, “It’s crucial. The damage proves the force of the kick, corroborates Tommy’s account.”
We immediately sent a formal request to the police department to have Tommy’s damaged prosthetic leg released from the evidence locker. It had been collected as a damaged item the night of the gala, noted in the initial report.
Days later, we received a terse reply. It stated simply: “Item not found.”
My blood ran cold. “What do you mean, ‘not found’?” I asked Calvin, my voice rising. “It was evidence! It was logged!”
Calvin called the precinct directly, his voice strained. He argued, he demanded, he threatened. But the answer remained the same.
“They’re saying it was logged as a ‘personal effect,’ not specific evidence in an active investigation, so proper chain of custody wasn’t maintained,” Calvin explained, slamming the phone down. “And now… it’s gone. Vanished. They’re calling it an ‘unfortunate oversight’.”
“Oversight?” I cried, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Croft arranged for this, didn’t he? He’s making sure there’s nothing left, absolutely nothing.”
The loss of the prosthetic leg, our single piece of tangible evidence, felt like the final, brutal blow. It wasn’t just an object; it was a symbol of Tommy’s vulnerability, now completely erased. Croft wasn’t just manipulating the system; he was wiping away the very reality of the incident.
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