All previous bravado evaporated in the face of who she actually was. Alana waited until they pulled away before rushing to check on Noah. His face was red and tear streaked, his breathing still labored from the stress. “It’s okay, baby,” she murmured, gently wiping his cheeks.
“Mommy’s here. You’re safe now.” She adjusted his car seat straps where Mercer had disturbed them, checking twice to ensure everything was secure. Back behind the wheel, Alana gripped it so tightly her knuckles turned white. Noah’s sobs gradually quieted to hiccuping breaths in the back seat.
She pulled away from the curb with textbook precision, hyper aware of the retreating police cruiser in her rear view mirror. As soon as Alana stepped through her front door, her legal training kicked in. She knew the next 24 hours would be crucial. Still carrying Noah’s car seat, she headed straight to her home office.
Her steps were quick and purposeful on the hardwood floors. “Everything fresh,” she muttered, setting Noah’s carrier down beside her desk. Her son had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep, his breathing still slightly ragged. She touched his cheek gently before turning to her computer.
Alana opened her phone’s voice memo app first. “Thursday, September 15th, 4:37 p.m.,” she began, her voice clear and steady. “Documenting unlawful traffic stop by Sergeant Brent Daly and Officer Kyle Mercer.” She detailed everything, the exact location, the officers’ words, their actions, the threats.
She described Daly’s coffee breath, Mercer’s flashlight beam, the way they’d positioned themselves to intimidate her. Next came photos. She used her phone’s camera to capture the slight redness on her wrists where Daly had grabbed her. The marks weren’t dramatic, but they were visible.
She photographed Noah’s reened eyes, still puffy from crying, and made sure the timestamp showed on each image. Her fingers flew across her keyboard as she typed a detailed email to herself, copying every word from her voice memo and adding more details. The email would create a timestamped record that couldn’t be altered later. She knew how evidence could mysteriously disappear in cases involving police misconduct.
Picking up her office phone, she dialed Chief Elena Hardwick’s direct line. The chief’s secretary tried to deflect her, but Alana used her state’s attorney authority to get through. “Chief Hardwick,” Alana said, keeping her tone professional despite her simmering anger. “I need all body cam footage from officers Daily and Mercer preserved immediately from today’s incident.”
“I’m also requesting their dash cam footage and any surveillance from nearby traffic cameras.” “M Pierce,” Hardwick sounded surprised. “What incident are we talking about?” “The one where your officers threatened to arrest me and take my baby over a fabricated DUI charge.”
“I trust you’ll make sure nothing happens to that footage.” There was a long pause. “I’ll look into it personally,” Hardwick finally said, her voice careful. “Though I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding.”
“The footage, Chief, today.” Alana hung up and immediately called internal affairs, making the same preservation request. She knew from experience how footage could get accidentally deleted during sensitive investigations. Her cell phone buzzed.
Judge Harold Whitaker returning her text. She’d worked with him for years, trusted his judgment. “Hold your cards close,” his message read. “Document everything, but don’t confront yet. Let them show their hand first.”
Noah stirred in his car seat, making small distressed sounds. Alana lifted him out, cradling him against her shoulder as she called the nearest certified mechanic shop. “I need an inspection today,” she told them. “Full documentation of all lights and safety features.”
They agreed to squeeze her in within the hour. She changed Noah’s diaper and packed his bag, knowing she needed to move quickly. Just as she was heading for the door, someone knocked. Through the security camera feed on her phone, she saw two people in business casual attire standing on her porch.
Their body language screamed, “Government workers.” Alana’s stomach clenched, but she wasn’t surprised. She opened the door to find exactly what she’d expected. Child protective services.
“Miss Pierce.” The older woman showed her badge. “I’m Sandra Mitchell from CPS. This is my colleague Tom Rivera. We received an anonymous report about an incident today involving possible child endangerment.”
Alana kept her face neutral. “Please come in.” She led them to her living room, noting how they scanned everything, the clean floors, the baby gear, the legal books on the shelves. “We received a concerning report,” Mitchell continued, pulling out a notepad.
“The caller stated you appeared hysterical and possibly intoxicated during a traffic stop this afternoon with an infant in the vehicle.” “Interesting timing,” Alena replied calmly. “I just finished documenting that unlawful stop with internal affairs. Would you like to see the evidence I’ve collected?”
Rivera glanced at his partner. “We need to do a standard home inspection first. Check the baby’s sleeping area, feeding supplies, general safety measures.” “Of course.” Alana showed them everything.
Noah’s nursery with its carefully organized changing station, the kitchen with clearly labeled breast milk storage, the baby proofed electrical outlets. She answered their questions with practiced patients, knowing any sign of defensiveness would be noted in their report. They examined Noah, checking for marks or signs of neglect. Alana kept her anger contained as they photographed her son.
She reminded herself that these workers were just doing their job, even if they’d been manipulated into making this visit. “Everything appears to be in order,” Mitchell finally said, though her tone suggested this wasn’t the end. “However, given the nature of the report, we’ll need to schedule a follow-up visit, and we may need to speak with Noah’s pediatrician.” “I have his doctor’s number right here,” Alena said smoothly, handing them a business card.
“From our visit today. In fact, please feel free to confirm that I brought him in for his scheduled checkup this afternoon.” After they left, Alana held Noah close, breathing in his baby scent. He gurgled softly, his earlier distress forgotten.
“We’re going to fight this, little man,” she whispered against his curls. “But we’re going to do it clean. They want us to lose control, to give them ammunition. We’re smarter than that.”
“We’re going to do this by the book. And we’re going to win.” The morning sun cast long shadows across Tony’s Auto Service as Alana pulled into the lot. She’d barely slept, spending most of the night reviewing statutes and precedents while Noah dozed in his bassinet beside her desk.
Now she balanced his car seat in one arm while Tony Martinez, the shop owner, greeted her at the entrance. “Morning, Ms. Pierce,” Tony said, wiping his hands on a red shop rag. “Got your message about the inspection. Want to walk me through what we’re checking?” Alana set Noah’s carrier down carefully in the clean waiting area.
“I need full documentation of all lights and safety features, photos, written report, everything, particularly the tail lights.” She kept her voice steady, professional. Tony nodded, already moving toward her car. “Those officers claimed your tail light was out, among other things.”
She watched as he circled her vehicle, methodically testing each light. Noah stirred in his carrier, making small cooing sounds. “Well, that’s interesting,” Tony said, straightening up. “Because every single light on this vehicle is working perfectly.”
“Want to see for yourself?” Alana pulled out her phone and recorded video as Tony demonstrated each light. Brake lights, turn signals, headlights, even the small bulb illuminating her license plate. Everything functioned exactly as it should.
“I need that in writing,” she said. “Official inspection report with photos already on it.” Tony headed to his computer. “But first, let me give the interior a quick vacuum. No extra charge.”
“Looks like your little one’s been dropping crackers.” Alana started to protest. She kept her car meticulously clean for Noah, but Tony was already pulling out an industrial vacuum. She lifted Noah from his carrier, supporting his head against her shoulder as she watched the mechanic work.
Tony had barely started vacuuming under the driver’s seat when he stopped abruptly. “Miss Pierce.” His voice had changed, grown serious. “You need to see this.” Alana’s heart rate picked up as she approached, still holding Noah.
Tony pointed to something wedged beneath the seat rail, a small plastic bag containing white powder. “Don’t touch it,” Alana said sharply, though Tony had already backed away. She pulled her phone out with her free hand and hit speed dial. “Jerry, it’s Alana Pierce.”
“I need you at Tony’s Auto Service right now. Bring an evidence kit and camera.” Jerry Thompson was her office’s lead investigator, a former crime scene tech who’d helped her crack dozens of cases. While waiting for him, she called Judge Whitaker.
“They planted drugs in your car?” The judge’s voice was tight with controlled anger. “During the stop?” “It appears so,” Alena replied, keeping her voice low as she paced the waiting room. “Jerry’s on his way to document everything.”
“You need to file for a court order immediately,” Whitaker said. “Get their body cam footage before it mysteriously disappears. And Alana, watch your back. This just escalated from harassment to a felony.” Jerry arrived within 15 minutes, his silver evidence kit in hand.