Brianna was arrested thirty minutes later, caught packing her bags with suitcases by the door and a passport in hand, still trying to wear that practiced smile until she saw the badges and it crumbled, first into fake tears, then into rage, and finally into silence when neither performance worked. They cuffed her barefoot on her apartment carpet, the same hands that had rifled through my blue folder now forced behind her back, and according to Lawson, she kept repeating, “She can’t do this,” as if I hadn’t been the one she tried to destroy.