“Well…”
She hesitated.
“I saw him walking through the parking lot.”
I looked at her.
“I carried the cooler from my car.”
She ignored me.
“And they’ve been sitting here for hours.”
Simone said:
“That is generally how picnics work.”
Margaret glared.
Rourke said:
“Ma’am.”
Simone looked at him.
“You’re not helping yourself.”
She almost smiled.
“I’m not trying to.”
That confused him.
“You should be.”
“No.”
The entire energy of the encounter changed.
Simone stepped away from the hood.
Rourke immediately reached toward her arm.
“Stay where I put you.”
She stopped.
His hand hovered inches from her elbow.
“Do not touch me unless you are placing me under arrest.”
He stared.
“Is that a challenge?”
“No.”
“Sounds like one.”
“It is a request for legal clarity.”
He laughed.
“There you go again.”
“Again what?”
“Trying to intimidate me with legal language.”
Simone’s face became very still.
“Officer Rourke, if accurate terminology intimidates you, that is not something I can fix.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
Courtroom Simone had finally lost patience.
Rourke took one step toward her.
“Turn around.”
She did not.
“Why?”
“I said turn around.”
“Am I under arrest?”
He reached for his handcuffs.
My whole body tightened.
Simone saw it.
“Malcolm.”
I stayed where I was.
Rourke pulled one wrist behind her back.
She did not resist.
The first cuff clicked.
Then a voice shouted from behind us.
“Whoa. Officer.”
Everyone turned.
A man in running clothes stood near the path holding his phone.
I recognized him before Simone did.
Assistant District Attorney Peter Ames.
He prosecuted in Simone’s courthouse.
He had apparently been jogging around the lake.
Peter stared.
“Judge Carter?”
Rourke froze.
The park went quiet.
Simone closed her eyes for one second.
Not relief.
Annoyance.
She did not want the reveal this way.
Rourke looked at Peter.
“You know her?”
Peter almost laughed.
“Know her?”
He pointed.
“That is Judge Simone Carter.”
Margaret’s face changed.
Rourke looked at Simone.
Then at the badge on his cruiser.
Then back at Peter.
“How do I know you’re not together?”
Peter stared.
“What?”
“ID.”
Peter laughed in disbelief.
Then reached toward his running belt.
Rourke’s hand went up.
“Slow.”
Peter stopped.
“Seriously?”
“ID.”
He produced his state employee credential.
FRANKLIN COUNTY DISTRICT ATTORNEY’S OFFICE
PETER AMES
ASSISTANT DISTRICT ATTORNEY
Rourke looked at it.
His confidence weakened.
Not gone.
Weakened.
Peter said:
“I appear in her courtroom twice a week.”
Rourke looked toward Simone.
She still had one cuff around her wrist.
He had not fastened the second.
Peter’s face hardened.
“Why is she handcuffed?”
Rourke said:
“She presented suspected false judicial credentials during an active trespass investigation.”
Peter stared.
“Trespass?”
I finally spoke.
“In a public park.”
Peter looked around.
Then back at Rourke.
“This is Lake Ashford.”
“I know where I am.”
“Then you know it’s municipal property.”
Rourke’s face tightened.
“There are reserved areas.”
“This table isn’t one of them.”
“How do you know?”
Peter pointed to the empty reservation bracket on the post.
“Because I can read.”
That did not help.
Rourke turned back toward Simone.
“Stay where you are.”
Peter held up both hands.
“Call a supervisor.”
Rourke glared.
“I don’t need one.”
“Yes,” Simone said quietly.
“You do.”
He looked at her.
She lifted the cuffed wrist slightly.
“You have now detained two citizens at a public picnic table, conducted pat-downs based on a vague complaint, called a state judicial credential fake without verifying it through court administration, and placed one handcuff on me after I requested clarification about my arrest status.”
Rourke said nothing.
Simone continued.
“Call your supervisor.”
For the first time, he did.
Sergeant Daniel Ortiz arrived twelve minutes later.
Those twelve minutes felt longer than the previous thirty.
Rourke removed the cuff before Ortiz arrived.
That detail mattered later.
He said it was because the identity question was “developing.”
Simone said nothing.
Peter stayed.
So did half the park.
I started packing the food.
Not because I wanted to leave.
Because suddenly the picnic felt contaminated.
Simone stopped me.
“Don’t.”
I looked at her.
“We’re staying.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Then she sat back down.
Opened her book.
And began reading.
It was one of the coldest things I had ever seen her do.
Rourke hated it.
When Sergeant Ortiz arrived, he immediately approached his officer.
“Status?”
Rourke spoke first.
“Suspicious-person call involving possible unauthorized use of a reserved picnic area. Subjects were uncooperative. Female presented suspected fraudulent judicial identification.”
Ortiz looked at Simone.
Then at Peter.
Then at me.
Peter said:
“Sergeant, before we go any farther, you may want to call Franklin County Court Administration.”
Rourke interrupted.
“He’s connected to them.”
Ortiz turned toward him.
“Let him finish.”
Peter did.
Ortiz picked up the badge.
He looked at it carefully.
His expression changed almost immediately.
“You think this is fake?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Rourke hesitated.
“Dispatch couldn’t verify it.”
“What did you ask dispatch to check?”
“Her name.”
“Through what database?”
“DMV and warrants.”
Ortiz stared at him.
Then slowly removed his sunglasses.
“That database doesn’t verify judicial commissions.”
Simone turned another page.
Rourke said:
“I know that.”
Ortiz looked at him.
“Apparently not.”
Silence.
Ortiz stepped aside and made a call.
Not through normal dispatch.
Directly to court administration.
Two minutes later, he returned.
He walked to Simone.
“Judge Carter.”
She closed her book.
“Yes.”
He held out the credential case.
“My apologies.”
She took it.
“Thank you.”
Rourke stared at the grass.
Ortiz asked:
“Are you injured?”
“No.”
“Was force used beyond the cuff?”
“Pat-down.”
Ortiz looked at Rourke.
“Both subjects?”
“Yes.”
“Basis?”
“Officer safety.”
Ortiz looked around.
Two folding chairs.
A cooler.
Picnic food.
A paperback.
Then back at Rourke.
“What specific articulable facts led you to believe either was armed and dangerous?”
Rourke’s face reddened.
“It was a suspicious-person call.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Rourke glanced at me.
“He’s a large male.”
I felt Simone go still beside me.
Ortiz heard it too.
“So?”
Rourke said nothing.
Ortiz repeated:
“So?”
“Unknown subject in a high-value area.”