On the third occurrence I was close enough that I photographed toward him with the camera held low, aimed at the clipboard rather than his face. I was thinking at the time about the face — I was trying to get the face — and I did not look at what the camera had actually captured until weeks later when I was reviewing the documentation systematically. The face is obscured. The clipboard is in focus.

I have been doing image enhancement incrementally, not all at once, because I did not want the frustration of a single failed attempt to make me dismiss what might be there with better patience. What is there, after four enhancement passes using two different tools, is a grid form. The columns are not all readable. Three of them are partially readable. The leftmost column appears to be unit numbers or identifiers — four-digit strings, partially legible, that do not match any postal format I recognize. The middle column appears to be dates and times. The rightmost readable column has a header I can now read clearly enough to transcribe: STATUS.

Under STATUS, the entries I can partially read: most are illegible. One, in a row that corresponds to a date I can make out as approximately eleven days before the fourth occurrence, reads ACTIVE. I cannot confirm the row is for a unit I am connected to. I cannot confirm the form is what I think it is. I am documenting what I can read, nothing more.