The Desk Sergeant Waved the New Aide Off — Then the Captain Said His Name
"Here on a favour, not a job," he said, and swept her study guides off the counter with one arm.
She's 19, on a work-study grant, and those hours are what keep her enrolled. The new aide who stepped in for her has no badge to show — and a phone flat against her jacket.
The night shift at the university public-safety station runs on paper. Sergeant Roger Kestler keeps his own tray of complaint forms in easy reach, and all shift his eyes go to the tray, never the door.
When Marcia Tolliver, the new aide in the plain navy jacket, asked to see the tray, he laughed and told her the complaint count was the lowest in five years. The triplicate stack under the till said otherwise, and the top form had a campus lab address printed across its header.
Junie came back for her study guides and stood close enough to whisper about a break-in at that lab her study group uses — one she says was never written down.
Then Marcia filmed the top form. Not his face, the form. Report number, lab address, and two initials in the dismissed box: R.K.
He sent her to walk the parking lots at 2:50 a.m. for asking a question. That's when the lobby doors opened.
What did the captain say when she saw my name in the audit file? That's in the first comment — and I'll take your likes as votes for whose complaint gets read aloud first.
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