Sullivan scrolled through her footage with deliberate slowness, his thumb hovering over the delete button like a threat. "Looks like a bunch of troublemaking propaganda to me."
"Derek," Rodriguez whispered urgently. "She's just a kid with homework. Her stuff looks legitimate."
Sullivan ignored his partner completely. He was enjoying the power dynamic too much. Here was this uppity Black girl who thought she could waltz into his neighborhood with cameras and attitude. Time to teach her a lesson about respect.
"Sit down on that curb," he commanded, pointing to the dirty concrete edge. "Right now. Don't make me tell you twice."
Maya looked around desperately. Dozens of people were watching now, some filming, others just staring. The humiliation burned in her chest, but her mother's voice echoed in her mind: Maintain your dignity, no matter what.
She lowered herself onto the curb with as much grace as she could manage. Her school dress caught on the rough concrete, but she adjusted it carefully, refusing to let Sullivan rob her of every shred of dignity.
"That's better," Sullivan said with satisfaction. "Now maybe you can learn some respect for authority."
A young Black man approached cautiously. "Excuse me, Officer, but what did she do wrong?"
"Mind your business and keep walking," Sullivan snapped without even looking at him.
Maya felt tears forming, but blinked them back. She wouldn't cry. Not here. Not in front of all these people, and definitely not in front of Sullivan.
"Officer Sullivan," she said quietly. "May I please call my mother? She should know where I am."
Sullivan's laugh was cruel and loud. "Oh, here we go! 'I want to call the FBI agent mommy!'" He turned to the growing crowd of onlookers. "This eighteen-year-old thinks her mama works for the FBI. Can you believe that?"
A few people in the crowd shifted uncomfortably. A teenage girl whispered to her friend, "This isn't right."
"Let me guess," Sullivan continued, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Mommy's going to come rescue you? The big tough FBI agent's going to show up in her government car?"
Maya's phone buzzed with an incoming text. Sullivan glanced at the screen, and his grin widened.
"Well, well. Text from Mom." He read aloud mockingly: "Case wrapping up early, home by 4:00 p.m. How's the interview going?"
The crowd grew quieter, sensing the cruelty in Sullivan's tone.
"'Case wrapping up,'" Sullivan repeated dramatically. "I bet her case is finishing up the toilets at some office building downtown."