"I'm the son of the man he assaulted," David said. "And I'm the witness who caught him."
Gerald loosened his tie. "Look, let's make a deal. Miller resigns. He walks away. He gives up his pension. You guys drop the felony charges. We avoid a media circus."
"No deal," Jenkins said instantly. "This is going to trial, Gerald. We have the video of the assault. We have the notebook. We have the guns in his locker."
"If you go to trial," Gerald warned, his voice lowering, "Miller will talk. He'll drag the whole department through the mud. He'll say he was ordered to do it. He'll say the quotas made him do it."
"Let him talk," David said. "Burn it all down. If there are other dirty cops, I want them caught, too."
Chief Harrison looked at David, then at Gerald. He made a decision that would define his career.
"Captain Reynolds is right," Harrison said. "No deals. In fact, I'm adding a charge: hate crime enhancement."
Gerald's eyes widened. "You can't prove that!"
"He called my father 'boy,'" David said coldly. "He targeted them because they were two black seniors in a luxury vehicle. He explicitly stated he didn't believe they could afford it. That is bias. That is racial profiling. And in front of a jury, with those bruises on my father... good luck."
Gerald looked at the monitors where Miller was sitting with his head in his hands. He realized the ship was sinking, and he didn't want to be on it.
"I... I need to make a call," Gerald stammered, backing out of the room.
Inside the interrogation room, Miller looked up at the mirror. He couldn't see them, but he knew they were there. He slammed his fist on the table.
"I run this town!" Miller screamed at the glass, his composure finally shattering. "You can't do this to me! I know where you live, Harrison! I know where you live!"
"Add communicating threats to the list," Jenkins noted, writing on her pad.
David watched the man who had terrified his parents unravel. It was satisfying, but it wasn't enough. He needed to ensure Miller never held a position of power again.
"What happens to the rookie, Kinsley?" David asked.
"He gave a full statement," Harrison said. "He corroborated everything. He said Miller told him to rough up your mother. Kinsley refused the direct order, but didn't stop Miller from grabbing your dad. He's going to face suspension, retraining, and probation. But he turned state's witness. That saves him from jail."
David nodded. Mercy for the one who hesitated; justice for the one who acted.
Just then, David's phone buzzed. He pulled it out. It was a notification from YouTube. The video the young woman had taken in the parking lot had been uploaded. It was titled Racist Cop Attacks Elderly Couple, Gets Owned by Marine Son. It had been up for 40 minutes; it already had 50,000 views.
"You might not need a jury," David murmured, showing the screen to the chief.
"The court of public opinion is already in session," Harrison sighed. "My phone is going to start ringing any second."
As if on cue, the station's main line began to ring. Then another phone, then another. A cacophony of ringing echoed through the precinct. The internet had found the Pine Bluff Police Department's number.
David walked out of the viewing room and into the lobby where Otis and Martha were sitting, holding hands. Otis had an ice pack on his shoulder, and Martha was sipping a cup of tea a nice sergeant had brought her.
"It's done," David said, crouching down before them. "He's not getting out tonight, or anytime soon."
"Is it over?" Martha asked, her voice trembling.
"The arrest is over," David said. "But the fight is just starting. The trial will be hard. They will try to smear your names. They will try to say you provoked him."
Otis sat up straighter. He looked at his son, then at the bustling station around him.
"Let them try," Otis said, his voice regaining that deep carpenter's strength. "I have the truth. I have the Lord. And I have the United States Marine Corps on my side."
David smiled—a genuine, warm smile. "Damn right you do, Pop."
But as they prepared to leave, a man in a sharp, expensive suit walked into the station lobby. He wasn't a cop. He wasn't a union rep. He was carrying a briefcase that looked like it cost more than Miller's yearly salary.
He walked straight to the front desk. "I am representing Officer Gregory Miller. I have a writ of habeas corpus, and I have bail money ready."
David stood up. The karma had hit hard, but the system was trying to hit back. Miller had powerful friends—shadowy figures who didn't want him talking about the protection fees he collected. If Miller got out on bail, Otis and Martha were in danger.
The arrival of attorney Richard Sterling changed the temperature in the room instantly. Sterling was not a local lawyer; he was from the state capital, a man known for defending high-profile corrupt officials and making witnesses disappear under mountains of paperwork and intimidation. His suit was Italian silk, his watch cost more than a house in Pine Bluff, and his smile was as sharp as a scalpel.
"My client has rights," Sterling announced, his voice smooth and oily. "And holding him without bail on these theatrical charges is a violation of due process."
David stepped between Sterling and his parents. "Theatrical? He assaulted a 70-year-old man."
Sterling looked David up and down, unimpressed by the uniform. "Allegedly, Captain. Allegedly. And frankly, your presence here is a conflict of interest. You are intimidating the local precinct." Sterling turned to Chief Harrison. "I want my client released on bond now, unless you want a lawsuit for unlawful detention on your desk by morning."
For a moment, it looked like money and influence might win. The legal system was slow, and Sterling knew how to exploit every loophole. A judge was called—Judge Halloway, an old friend of Sterling's firm—and within 2 hours, bail was set. It was high, $50,000, but Sterling posted it immediately with a cashier's check.
Greg Miller walked out of the holding cell. He changed back into his civilian clothes, looking smug.