Rodriguez stepped closer to her partner. "Derek, that's enough. Let's just—"
"I said stay out of this!" Sullivan whirled around, his face flushed red. "I'm dealing with a potential threat here!"
"A threat?" Rodriguez looked at Maya sitting quietly on the curb, her school materials scattered around her. "She's eighteen years old, doing homework."
But Sullivan was beyond reason now. The crowd's attention fed his sense of authority. He was the law here, and everyone needed to remember that.
"You want to know the truth about your FBI mama?" Sullivan leaned down toward Maya, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "She's probably cleaning their offices right now, emptying trash cans, mopping floors. That's what people like your family do for the government."
The words hit like physical blows. Maya felt something break inside her chest, but she forced herself to look Sullivan directly in the eyes.
"My mother is a federal agent," she said clearly, her voice carrying across the silent crowd. "She's dedicated her life to protecting this country, and she raised me to treat everyone with respect, even people who don't deserve it."
Sullivan's face twisted with rage. This little girl had just insulted him in front of dozens of witnesses. Nobody talked to him that way, especially not some lying teenager from the projects.
"That's it," he snarled, reaching for his handcuffs. "You're under arrest for disorderly conduct and resisting arrest."
"Resisting arrest?" Maya's voice cracked with disbelief. "I'm sitting on a curb!"
But Sullivan was already calling for backup on his radio: "Unit 23 requesting assistance with a belligerent juvenile. The suspect is being uncooperative."
Maya's phone, still in Sullivan's hand, buzzed again. This time, he didn't bother reading it aloud. The text simply said: On my way. Stay calm, baby girl.
Across the street, a black SUV with government plates pulled up to the curb. The engine turned off, and the driver's door opened slowly.
The backup unit arrived within three minutes, sirens blaring unnecessarily through the peaceful park area. Officer James Mitchell stepped out, looking confused as he surveyed the scene: a teenage girl sitting quietly on a curb, surrounded by scattered school papers, while dozens of tourists filmed with their phones.
"What's the situation, Sullivan?" Mitchell asked, clearly puzzled by the apparent lack of any actual disturbance.
"Juvenile suspect was filming police officers without permission, creating a public disturbance, and resisting lawful orders," Sullivan rattled off, his chest puffed with authority. "She's been belligerent and uncooperative."
Maya looked up from the curb, her voice steady despite her racing heart. "Officer Mitchell, I showed Officer Sullivan my school permission letter and student ID. I was doing homework for my journalism class. I've been sitting here quietly since he told me to."
Mitchell glanced at the scattered papers around Maya. He could clearly see official school letterhead and what appeared to be interview questions. His brow furrowed with confusion.