Get Out, Scum! Cop Yelled... Froze When Both Flashed Internal Affairs IDs
Chapter 2
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At the center of almost 80% of these complaints was one man: Officer Thomas Kowalski. Kowalski was a 15-year veteran of the Oak Haven force; his personnel file was a grotesque mosaic of excessive force allegations, racial profiling lawsuits that the city had quietly settled out of court, and a staggering number of arrests for "resisting an officer" that magically lacked any dashboard or body camera footage. Kowalski was smart enough to know where the blind spots were, and arrogant enough to believe he was completely untouchable."He's pulling out," Khloe noted, shifting her weight slightly to ensure the hidden button-sized camera pinned to the zipper of her hoodie was angled perfectly out the window. Down in the footwell, a high-fidelity audio recorder was already silently capturing every sound inside the cabin.In the mirror, the cruiser's headlights flared to life, burning through the misty rain. The police car accelerated aggressively, closing the distance in a matter of seconds until it was riding dangerously close to the Malibu's rear bumper. David maintained his speed: he didn't tap the brakes; he didn't swerve; he drove with the steady, infuriating precision of a man who knew the law better than the person tailgating him."He's running the plates right now," David said softly. "When they come back registered to a dummy corporation in the city, he's going to make his move.""Let him," Khloe whispered, her eyes completely devoid of fear. "We need him to cross the line on his own. Don't give him an inch, David."They drove in silence for another agonizing mile. The cruiser remained pinned to their bumper, so close that David could see the aggressive, impatient drumming of Officer Kowalski's fingers on his steering wheel. This was the first attack of a bad stop: intimidation. Force the driver to get nervous, force them to make a sudden lane change without a signal, or force them to tap their brakes, thereby manufacturing probable cause.David did none of those things: he breathed in slowly—the steady rhythm of a man who had faced down cartel enforcers and organized crime syndicates. A dirty suburban cop was nothing more than a nuisance in comparison.Suddenly, the intersection of Elm and Fourth Street approached. As David smoothly guided the Malibu through the green light, the cruiser behind them erupted into a chaotic light show: the blinding strobes of red and blue bounced off the wet pavement, accompanied by the short, aggressive blast of the police siren."Here we go," David said.He activated his right turn signal, slowed down gently, and pulled the Malibu over onto the gravel shoulder, parking it securely beneath the harsh glare of a towering halogen streetlight. He shifted the car into park, turned off the engine, and rolled down his window.Behind them, Kowalski angled his cruiser aggressively, deliberately parking it in a way that trapped the Malibu against the curb. He activated his high-beam spotlight, aiming it directly at David's side mirror to blind the driver and flood the interior of the Chevy with an oppressive, interrogative light.Khloe reached forward and placed her hands visibly on the dashboard. David placed his hands flat on top of the steering wheel. They sat in silence, listening to the heavy, deliberate crunch of tactical boots on the wet gravel as Officer Thomas Kowalski approached the vehicle.The trap had been successfully set. Now they just had to let the predator step into it.