Doyle froze.
Camille saw the flicker of recognition, immediately chased away by stubborn denial.
“What is this?” Doyle demanded.
“You are searching protected government work product without consent,” Camille warned.
Doyle flipped the folder open. The top page read:
HAWTHORNE RIDGE PEDESTRIAN DETENTION REVIEW Reviewing Official: Dr. Camille Bennett, Director, State Civil Rights Enforcement Division
A list of flagged officers was printed below. Megan Doyle was third on the list.
Doyle stared.
“Close the folder,” Camille commanded quietly. “My identification is in the inner pocket.”
Doyle dug out the leather wallet. Inside was Camille’s photograph, the state seal, her employee number, and her official title. The officer’s face flushed a deep, panicked crimson. But instead of uncuffing her, Doyle doubled down, looking at the recording neighbors. Admitting a mistake now meant admitting the stop was completely baseless.
“Anybody can carry a government-looking card,” Doyle sneered, shoving the ID back into the bag. “You were behaving suspiciously.”
“Walking while Black in an affluent neighborhood is not suspicious behavior,” Camille replied.
The heavy mahogany door of the house behind them swung open.
A tall, elderly white man leaning heavily on a polished wooden cane stepped onto the porch. Despite his simple cardigan and gray trousers, his posture radiated absolute authority.
“Sir, please remain inside,” Doyle pointed at him.
The man ignored her, continuing his slow, deliberate march to the edge of the sidewalk. “Officer, release that woman. My name is Walter Langford. I served as a state superior court judge for thirty-one years. Dr. Bennett is here at my request.”