Chapter 10 - I suspend twenty-three people
My first major mistake happened on day four.
Outside counsel had only begun reviewing security.
I was furious.
Marcus had run my security for twelve years.
If he could hide Claire under the mansion, who else knew?
I called Harrington Meridian’s chief operating officer.
“Put every employee who reported directly to Marcus on leave.”
“How many?”
“Twenty-three.”
“Daniel—”
“All.”
Some worked executive protection.
Some corporate investigations.
Some access control.
Some cybersecurity.
The COO said:
“We cannot suspend the whole security command without replacement.”
“Then replace it.”
I hung up.
An hour later our independent board chair, Margaret Sloan, called.
“Reverse it.”
I stared at the phone.
“Marcus used the department.”
“Marcus did. Maybe others.”
“The footage outages—”
“Investigate.”
“They worked for him.”
“So did six thousand other people work for you. Should I suspend them?”
I hated her.
“Twenty-three people had access.”
“Access is not knowledge.”
There.
Same error every powerful angry person makes.
Proximity becomes guilt.
I reversed the blanket suspension.
We placed four individuals on administrative leave based on specific evidence.
One turned out to know Marcus had falsified a maintenance ticket but believed it hid a VIP guest.
Another had no involvement.
Two had relevant invoice issues.
The remaining nineteen kept working under independent interim leadership.
At the next board meeting I said:
“I issued a collective suspension order before evidence supported it. It was withdrawn.”
No one told me:
Understandable.
Good.
Understanding does not make an action correct.
My father had spent his career treating uncertainty as permission to control everyone nearby.
May you like
I had inherited the reflex faster than I wanted to admit.
────────────────────
