I’m Detective Graham Waters, and I’ve spent years learning how to read a crime scene—the angle of a bullet, the drag of a body, the silence between words. But I couldn’t read my own brother.

It’s been two days since the call came in about the dead kid in the San Fernando Valley. I didn’t know it was Peter until Ria pulled back the sheet. Now, standing in the morgue, the fluorescent lights hum like accusation. My mother’s voice echoes: You were supposed to protect him.

I think back to 48 hours earlier. The city was already burning—just not visibly. A fender-bender on Olympic. Ria and I responding to a homicide. A white cop shooting a Black cop undercover. And me, making a dumb joke about Mexico that set Ria off.

We’re all carrying something. Ryan with his racist rage. Cabot with his political calculations. Daniel Ruiz, just trying to do his job while being treated like a criminal.

And me? I’m carrying the weight of what I ignored. The calls Peter never made. The signs I didn’t see.

Now, Flanagan’s offering me a deal: bury the truth about Lewis, and I get a promotion. My brother’s record cleared. Justice traded for peace.

But peace built on lies isn’t peace. It’s just another crash waiting to happen.

I have to decide: do I protect the system that failed us both? Or do I finally face what I’ve been running from?