and devoid of the fear they clearly expected to instill.
hat are you doing out here?" Miller demanded, taking a
few steps closer. He looked her up and down, his
expression filled with disdain.
"I'm jogging," Maya replied simply. "Is there a law against running
in this neighborhood?"
"Don't get smart with me," Miller snapped. "We've had a string of
burglaries in this area. People breaking into cars. You match the
description."
Maya knew this was a textbook lie. She had spent the entire
weekend reviewing the city's crime statistics for the past year. There
hadn't been a burglary in Elmwood Drive in over eight months.
"I highly doubt that," Maya said, maintaining her composure.
"Unless the description is simply 'a Black person existing in Elmwood.'"
Miller’s face flushed with anger. He hated it when people didn't
immediately cower. "I said, don't get smart. Let's see some ID."
Maya shook her head slightly. "I'm on a run. I don't carry my wallet
or identification when I jog. I just have my phone."
"No ID?" Vance chimed in, trying to sound as tough as his partner.
"That's highly suspicious."
"It's not illegal to jog without a driver's license, Officer," Maya
stated clearly. She noticed their name tags. *Miller* and *Vance*. She
was filing this away. This was exactly the kind of unconstitutional,
biased policing she had been hired to eradicate. Part of her wanted to
say, 'I am the Chief of Police, stand down.' But the cop in her, the
reformer, wanted to see how far these officers would go when they
thought they were dealing with an ordinary, powerless civilian. She
needed to witness the rot firsthand.
"You're refusing to identify yourself?" Miller asked, his voice rising,
manufacturing a reason to escalate.
"I'm not refusing. I'm telling you I don't have physical ID on me.
My name is Maya Jenkins. I live on Maple Street. I am just exercising."
"Turn around and put your hands on the hood of the car," Miller
ordered, unhooking his handcuffs from his belt.
Maya frowned, planting her feet. "For what? What is your
reasonable articulable suspicion that I have committed, am committing,
or am about to commit a crime? Terry v. Ohio requires more than just
'looking out of place' to detain and frisk someone."