THEM ASKING FOR MY CCTV WAS THE FIRST TIME I FELT LIKE A CRIMINAL IN MY OWN UNIFORM

Dear Delyara, The detectives came into the gatehouse at midnight asking for our external CCTV footage because a vehicle involved in a serious offense had been tracked to this lane. As I sat there showing them the logs, my hands started shaking so violently I missed the correct timestamp twice. The older officer looked at me—just a long, neutral, assessing look—and asked if I was alright. That look went through me like ice. I have a university degree in business, I am the founder of a luxury house, I manage thousands of letters on Delyara, but in that moment, under that clinical gaze, I felt like an absolute fraud. I felt like they could see right through my cheap uniform to the desperate, exhausted man who is currently using his business credit card to buy milk. I was terrified that if they ran my name, they’d see my variable mortgages, my dwindling cash reserves, and realize I don’t belong on this side of the desk at all.