"Yes. When I went inside to pay, she held my ID longer than necessary, studying it like she expected to find something wrong. I bought water and coffee, paid cash. As I was leaving, I saw her pick up the phone."
Clara's pen moved quickly. "Did you hear the call?"
"No, but her body language changed completely when she made it. She turned away, spoke quietly. It wasn't a casual conversation."
"And outside?" Sonya prompted.
"A man in a red pickup truck was watching me pump gas. He said, loud enough for others to hear, 'She doesn't look like she belongs in that car.' I chose not to engage. That's when the first patrol car arrived."
Raymond's jaw tightened on the screen. "How long between the cashier's call and police arrival?"
"Less than five minutes," Evelyn replied. "Officer Rourke approached immediately aggressive, demanding to know why I was lingering. When I explained I was simply getting gas, he insisted the vehicle matched a suspicious report. But he never provided any details about this supposed report."
Clara looked up from her notebook. "The bystander videos start around here, but they miss this initial context. The narrative begins mid-confrontation."
"Officer Halverson arrived second," Evelyn continued. "He stayed back, watched everything. When I mentioned my registration was in the glove compartment, he asked politely, but Rourke interrupted, said I needed to keep my hands visible at all times."
Sonya made another note. "He was building a paper trail of non-compliance."
"Yes. Every calm response was treated as defiance. When they found my federal credentials, Rourke claimed they must be fake. That's when he decided to arrest me for fraud."
Raymond's voice carried barely controlled anger: "The credentials were legitimate. Multiple forms of ID, all ignored."
"We need to move quickly," Sonya said. "By morning, they'll have their story straight. They'll paint this as a reasonable mistake based on available information."
Clara scrolled through her phone. "The videos are spreading, but they're fragmentary. We need the full station security footage, dispatch recordings."
"There's something else," Evelyn said quietly. She reached for her retrieved phone. "When I was first detained, I activated an emergency protocol—something from my intelligence work days. It sends location data and partial audio metadata to secure servers."