"Uh-huh."
"Officer, I am asking you respectfully to verify my identity. Call your dispatch, run my name. It will take less than a minute."
"I don't need to run anything. I can tell when someone's lying."
What should have been a simple misunderstanding is now something else entirely. Officer Moss isn't listening. He isn't following protocol. He's decided, without evidence, without verification, without any legal basis, that the woman standing on this porch is lying to him. And he's decided something else, too. Something he won't say out loud, but that hangs in the air between them like smoke.
He doesn't believe a Black woman in this neighborhood could be a judge.
"Ma'am, here's what's going to happen," Officer Moss says, his tone shifting from dismissive to authoritative. "You're going to step down off that porch and come with me so we can sort this out."
Judge Williams doesn't move. "What sort out? You haven't told me what I'm accused of. You haven't verified my identity. You haven't given me any legal reason why I should go anywhere with you."
"I don't need to explain myself to you."
"Actually, under the Fourth Amendment, you do."
Officer Moss takes a step onto the bottom porch step. "Don't start quoting law at me."
"I'm a judge. Quoting law is quite literally my job."
"Turn around."
"I'm not turning around. I haven't committed a crime."
"Ma'am, turn around right now or I will place you under arrest for obstruction."