“You are resisting right now.”
“No, I’m not.”
Nathan pulled her wrist gently toward her lower back.
The woman stiffened.
“Get your hands off me!”
“Put your hand behind your back.”
“You don’t have consent.”
“I don’t need consent to place you in custody.”
She twisted again.
Lisa secured one wrist.
Nathan secured the second.
The handcuffs clicked.
The woman froze.
For the first time since the stop began, she looked frightened.
Not outraged.
Not performative.
Frightened.
She turned toward Nathan.
“Am I under arrest?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“Obstruction and resisting at this point. Additional traffic charges may apply.”
Her mouth opened.
Then closed.
Nathan checked the cuffs.
She pulled against them.
“These are too tight.”
Nathan slid a finger between the cuff and her wrist.
“They’re properly spaced.”
“They hurt.”
“They’re not designed to be comfortable.”
“That’s cruel.”
Nathan ignored the comment.
Lisa retrieved the phone.
The screen was still recording.
“You want this secured with your property?” Lisa asked.
The woman stared at the phone.
“How many people are watching?”
Lisa looked at the screen.
“About eight hundred.”
The woman’s face changed.
Eight hundred people had watched her dragged from the car.
She looked at Nathan.
“This is going to ruin you.”
Nathan closed the SUV door carefully.
The broken window made a soft crunch beneath the frame.
The woman stared at the glass scattered across the driver’s seat.
“You destroyed a sixty-thousand-dollar vehicle.”
Nathan nodded toward the missing front plate.
“You were given multiple opportunities to avoid that.”
“No. You wanted to do this.”
Nathan looked at her.
“Why would I want to break your window?”
“Power.”
Lisa raised an eyebrow.
The woman continued.
“You people have power issues.”
Nathan said nothing.
“You like controlling people.”
Still nothing.
“You think that badge makes you God.”
Nathan finally answered.
“No.”
The woman laughed bitterly.
“Sure.”
A supervisor arrived several minutes later.
Sergeant Michael Grant was fifty-two and had the tired expression of a man who had spent twenty-seven years watching adults turn minor problems into major ones.
The woman immediately straightened.
“Are you the supervisor?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Grant looked at Nathan.
“What happened?”
Before Nathan could answer, the woman began.
“Your officer illegally detained me, refused to identify the crime, refused to get a supervisor, broke my window, dragged me out of my vehicle and assaulted me.”
Grant held up one hand.