She managed to turn her head enough to see her phone lying a few feet away. The call to Marcus still active. More crashes from inside. The sound of her kitchen cabinets being emptied onto the floor. Upstairs, footsteps thundered across the ceiling as officers moved room to room.
"Get her up," Hol commanded. Griggs and another officer hauled Angela to her feet. Her legs trembled, shoulders screaming from the awkward position of her cuffed hands. She could feel blood trickling from her scraped cheek. "Who exactly are you looking for? " Angela demanded, finding her voice.
"What's the name of this supposed fugitive? " Holt's face tightened. He stepped closer, invading her personal space. "You know exactly who we're after, Mrs. Brooks. Don't play innocent. " No, I don't know.
Angela shot back. Because there is no fugitive, is there? This is something else entirely. A vein pulsed in Holt's temple. Watch your mouth.
You're already facing charges for obstruction and resisting arrest. Resisting what? Arrest. You never even told me I was under arrest. You never read me my rights.
More shouts from inside the house. The sound of her mattress being flipped off the bed frame, books swept off shelves, photo albums dumped onto the floor. Through her phone's speaker, she could hear Marcus talking rapidly to someone. Yes, sir. My wife is being physically detained while officers conduct an illegal search.
I need immediate intervention. Yes, sir. I understand. I'm booking a flight now. Officer Griggs yanked Angela's arms higher behind her back, making her gasp in pain.
Your husband better hurry home. Might not have much of a house left to come back to. The neighbors angry shouts grew louder. Angela saw Mr. Wilson trying to push past the police line, his teenage sons holding him back.
Mrs. Martinez was crying, clutching her phone as she recorded everything. The Thompson kids huddled behind their parents. Eyes wide with fear and confusion. "Nothing in the basement," an officer reported, emerging from the house.
His boots tracked mud across Angela's welcome mat. No sign of forced entry or hiding spots. "Keep looking," Holt snapped. "Every inch of this property gets searched. Pull up the floorboards if you have to. " Angela's legs threatened to buckle.
The handcuffs bit deeper into her wrists with every small movement. Her shoulders burned from the unnatural position, but she refused to show weakness in front of Hol. This is illegal, she stated clearly, making sure her voice carried to all the recording phones. "You have no warrant, no probable cause, and no evidence of any fugitive. You're violating multiple federal laws by forcibly entering a protected military residence.