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LOG 10/16/2023 22:12 GMT-4

TRANSCRIPT: AUDIO/VIDEO RECORDING

Sordello: Stuart Peterson asked you if you remember. Do you, Deputy Maro? Do you remember? Analysis Note: If the subject heard her, he gave no indication. He was still staring at that photograph. When he finally looked up, there was no life in his face. The color was gone. If I were forced to touch his skin (and thank God he was isolated in that chamber and I wasn’t asked to do that) I know he’d be far too cold.

Maro: The arm, that’s Riley, isn’t it? Gabby’s daughter. Sordello: What makes you say that? Maro: [ Agitated ] Just answer the damn question. I’ve answered all yours. Analysis Note: I didn’t recognize the voice, but someone told Sordello not to answer. Told her she’d be brought up on charges if she did. She did not seem to care.

Sordello: Yes. That is Riley Sanchez. Analysis Note: The same voice told Sordello her career was over. I heard that a moment before three soldiers rushed Sordello’s chamber. Sordello pulled a gun from the folds of her jacket and leveled the barrel at the soldiers. A standard-issue Glock. All three froze, their own weapons raised. Someone was speaking to them, too, but I wasn’t privy to that conversation. That someone clearly told them to stand down. Their weapons remained on Sordello, but nobody fired. She stood, far too calmly, went to the door, and engaged the dead bolt. She pressed the privacy lock, which I later learned prevented the door from being unlocked from the outside—even with a key—then she loaded all the folders she’d held back into the pass-through and shoved the drawer to the subject’s chamber, where he began to retrieve them.

Sordello: We don’t have much time, Deputy Maro. You don’t have much time. I’m going to tell you what I can, and I need you to listen to me very carefully.