A narrow bench was bolted to the wall. A metal table was scarred with scratches and coffee rings. A camera mounted in the upper corner blinked red. A laminated rights poster hung beside a corkboard covered in shift schedules and incident reports.
Reed removed the handcuffs. Stewart rolled his shoulders, feeling the blood return to his fingers. A female agent in her mid-40s entered carrying a plastic property bag and a clipboard. She instructed Stewart to empty his pockets and remove his watch.
He complied without comment. Wallet, phone, keys, wedding band, stainless-steel watch his wife had given him on their 30th anniversary: each item went into the clear plastic bag. The agent recorded the inventory on her clipboard, her pen scratching across the form in efficient strokes. She opened the wallet to document the cash inside: $63 in bills, four credit cards, Illinois driver’s license.
Then she pulled out the small leather credential case tucked behind the license. She froze. Her eyes tracked across the embossed seal, printed text, and laminated photograph. Federal judicial credentials, Northern District of Illinois, issued to Judge Jerome Allen Stewart upon his retirement three years earlier.
The credentials remained valid for life, granting courthouse access and certain statutory protections under Title 18 of the United States Code. She looked up sharply. “Wait here.”
She left the room at double speed, taking the credential case with her. Swanson and Reed exchanged glances. Neither spoke.
Ninety seconds later, Supervisory Special Agent Robert Klein entered the processing room. Mid-50s, graying at the temples, 26 years with Homeland Security Investigations. He carried the credential case in one hand, and his face had gone pale beneath the fluorescent lighting.
He stared at Stewart for three full seconds. Then his voice came out tight, controlled, barely suppressing fury. “Get those cuffs off him now.”
Reed moved immediately. The handcuffs came off for the second time. Stewart rubbed his wrists, feeling the indentations the steel had left in his skin.
Klein turned to Swanson. “Outside. Both of you. Right now.”