He plops two typed pages onto my desk. A press release. I recognize the logo of the news outlet, a fringe conservative site with questionable judgment regarding content and sources and, well, questionable everything.

“What have they done now?” I muse as I skim. The press release is poorly written, but the salient details are clear enough:

White-nationalist organization White Out, in conjunction with the White Might, White Rights demonstration today, has announced that they’ve raised $$$ for Officer Henderson’s family, to offset the loss of income during his time on administrative leave …

“Well, that’s some crazy,” I say. “What kind of respectable journalistic outlet uses the money symbol instead of spelling out the word?”

John chuckles. “Tell me about it.”

All joking aside, this development will open up a whole new mess for us. “What’s Henderson saying about this?”

“This is where it gets interesting.”

My brows go up. “Uh-oh. Is he connected to the group? Did he ask them for money?”

“No, nothing like that. It was out of the blue.”

“Good. So, clear deniability.” I set the press release aside.

“But still an optics problem.”

“Everything about this is an optics problem.” I toss my pen onto the desk. “We have to be simple about it. We announce that he’s not connected to these groups and isn’t accepting their money.”

“There’s the rub,” John says.

“What?” The pieces come together in my mind, drop like a stone to my gut. “No.”

“Yeah. Henderson wants to accept the money.”

“He can’t.” Out of the question.

“He is.”

My feet press against the glide mat, roll my chair back. I need space. Need air.

John tosses himself into my corner chair. “So…”

Loosen my tie. “He can’t. Come on. He’s being investigated for the death of a black child, and he’s going to take money from white supremacist groups now? The press will have a field day.”

“I know, but it turns out a fair amount of it was delivered in cash. There’s no easy way to return it. Frankly, I think he’s already using it.”

“Great.”

“He didn’t report receiving it. Didn’t know it was going to become public. Thought it would be his little secret, I guess.”

“Not the brightest bulb in the box, is he?”

John props his foot on his knee. Bounces it. I would swear he’s enjoying this. “To be fair, he’s facing some hefty legal fees, even with the police union involved.”

“He doesn’t know better than to get in bed with these people?”

“He claims he doesn’t know for sure where it came from. It was an envelope, with a note.”

“Does he have the note?”

“Says he threw it away. Didn’t think it mattered.”