"Ross’s camera was running the entire time," Chief Vance said, his voice dropping into a deadly whisper. "It captured everything. It captured you calling a fifty-nine-year-old grieving man 'trash' before he even spoke a word to you. It captured you slapping him across the face while he stood motionless. It captured him telling you calmly that his brother was being buried, and it captured you laughing in his face."

Prescott sank back into his chair, his strength leaving his legs. "Chief... I thought his ID was fake... people carry fake badges all the time..."

"His ID was an official Department of Defense flag officer credential!" Chief Vance shouted, slamming his hand onto the table. "He is a Four-Star General! He commands seventy thousand military personnel and thirty billion dollars in defense systems! And you threw him face-first into the dirt because you couldn't stand the fact that an older Black man spoke to you with calm, dignified composure!"

Mayor Pendelton leaned over the table, glaring at Prescott with deep disgust. "The Governor’s office has already called my phone, Daniel. The Pentagon has formally requested a copy of all arrest logs, bodycam footage, and radio transmissions. The State Police Criminal Investigation Division is taking over the assault charge. You aren't just losing your job. You are going to trial."

"Trial?" Prescott whispered, his voice cracking. "Mayor, please... I’ve served eight years on this force!"

"And in eight years, you have accumulated eleven citizen complaints for excessive force and abusive language," Chief Vance revealed, opening the yellow folder to reveal a stack of disciplinary records. "Complaints that previous supervisors swept under the rug. Well, the rug just got pulled out from under you."

At that moment, a senior detective opened the briefing room door. "Chief, General Cole’s legal representative and the State Police investigators have arrived in the lobby."

Chief Vance looked down at Prescott one last time. "Officer Prescott, you are officially under arrest for simple assault, official misconduct under color of law, and false imprisonment. Put your hands behind your back."

Prescott sat frozen as his former colleagues stepped forward, pulled out a pair of handcuffs, and snapped them around his wrists—the very same wrists that had held General Cole just hours before.

By late afternoon, the sun had begun to sink below the horizon, casting a deep crimson glow over the quiet residential streets of Westfield. At the Cole family residence, guests were slowly departing after a traditional post-funeral gathering.

General Adrian Cole sat on the back porch, wearing a comfortable dark sweater and holding a warm cup of black coffee. The fatigue of the past six days—the sudden death of his brother, the intense grief, the public responsibilities, and the violent assault in the parking lot—weighed heavily upon his shoulders.

The front doorbell rang softly. Lieutenant Colonel Maya Reeves answered it, speaking in low tones with someone at the door before walking out onto the back porch.

"General," Maya said quietly. "Officer Nathan Ross is at the front door. He is off-duty and in civilian clothes. He asked if he could speak with you for two minutes. He says if you refuse, he will completely understand and leave immediately."

Adrian looked at his coffee cup, then nodded slowly. "Show him back here, Maya."

A moment later, young Officer Nathan Ross stepped onto the porch. Without his police uniform, wearing an ordinary jacket and jeans, he looked remarkably young and deeply shaken. He stood nervously near the porch steps, wringing his hands together.

"General Cole, sir," Ross began, his voice trembling slightly. "Thank you for seeing me. I... I won't take much of your time."

"Sit down, Mr. Ross," Adrian said calmly, gesturing to a wicker chair opposite him.

Ross sat down on the very edge of the cushion, looking down at his shoes. "Sir, I came here to apologize. Not on behalf of the department, but on behalf of myself. I was standing right there when Officer Prescott struck you. I was shocked... I knew something was wrong, but I hesitated. I took six seconds to act because Prescott was my senior officer. In those six seconds, you were slammed onto the ground. I failed in my duty to protect a citizen, and I failed as a human being."