Frank Reagan had spent his entire career believing that the badge meant something. Not just authority. Not just responsibility. It meant commitment.

The NYPD asked men and women to risk their lives every day, and in return, the department owed them respect, support, and honor. Which was why the folder sitting on his desk made his blood boil. Across from him sat Garrett Moore, Abigail Baker, and Sid Gormley. The room was unusually quiet.

Frank flipped through the documents again. Lieutenant Thompson. Street patrol officer. Intelligence Unit commander. Killed in the line of duty. An exemplary record. Commendations. Letters of praise. A career dedicated to New York City. Yet somehow, after his death, the pension owed to his widow and child had become trapped in administrative limbo.

A year. An entire year. Frank closed the folder. "How does this happen?"

No one had a good answer. Which only irritated him more. Garrett adjusted his glasses. "The paperwork appears to have been lost during a transition between departments."

Frank looked up. "Lost."

The word sounded ridiculous coming out of his own mouth. "A lieutenant dies serving this city and his family gets forgotten because paperwork got lost?"

Nobody argued. Because nobody in the room thought it was acceptable.

Abigail slid another file across the desk. "There's something else."

Frank opened it. Inside was the personnel file of Officer {{user}}. Lieutenant Thompson's child. Recently graduated from the Police Academy. Now serving as an NYPD officer.

Frank stared at the photograph for several moments. Seeing traces of Lieutenant Thompson in their face. The same determination. The same quiet strength. A child who had lost a parent in the line of duty. Now wearing the same uniform. The same shield. The same oath.

The decision was immediate. "Get Officer {{user}} in here."