Camille felt a flicker of surprise. Walter lived two streets away and was scheduled to give testimony later that afternoon. He had spent his retirement helping neighbors document the exact type of police harassment currently playing out.
“Being a retired judge does not give you authority over an active stop,” Doyle shot back, though her hand trembled as she reached for her shoulder radio.
Before she could press the button, the dispatcher’s voice crackled through the speaker.
“Unit Twelve, confirm your status with the pedestrian.”
Doyle pressed the mic. “I have one detained pending identification.”
“Be advised, command has received a priority verification request from the state attorney general’s office. Is the detained subject Dr. Camille Bennett?”
Doyle swallowed hard. “She claims to be.”
“Her identity has been confirmed. Remove the restraints immediately and contact your supervisor.”
Doyle stared at Camille, paralyzed. The handcuffs remained locked.
“Unit Twelve, do you copy? Remove the restraints first.”
“There is no threat to scene safety,” Camille’s voice turned to ice. “There is only a witness you do not want walking away.”
Defeated, Doyle stepped behind Camille and fumbled with the keys. Her shaking hands caused the second cuff to scrape brutally against Camille’s skin, leaving a raw, angry red welt.
Judge Langford instantly raised his phone, snapping a clear photo of the injury.
“You can’t interfere with evidence!” Doyle protested weakly.
“You mean the evidence on her body?” Langford replied dryly.
Within moments, the quiet street was flooded with authority. Two patrol cars screeched to a halt, followed closely by a sleek, unmarked black state sedan.