She did not move, not out of stubbornness, not out of any desire to create a scene. She had a briefing to attend at 9:00 a.m. She had been entering this building for 9 years, and the directory he was declining to check had her name, her title, her current assignment, and her photograph. The solution was 15 keystrokes away. I've provided my name, she said.
The directory is accessible from this terminal. This is a standard verification procedure when a credential fails. I'm asking you to use it. Ethan's jaw tightened slightly. It was a small thing.
Camille noticed it. Ma'am, I need you to step back and use the public entrance. I'd like to speak with your supervisor. The supervisor is occupied. Then I'll wait.
At the clerk station, roughly 20 ft to the left of the screening lane, a woman named Patricia Morgan looked up from her intake folders. She was 53 years old, had worked at Fulton County Courthouse for 22 years, had processed more paperwork than she could count, and had a pension she was 16 months away from being fully vested in. She recognized Camille Johnson immediately. She had seen her in the building dozens of times. She knew exactly what Ethan Cole was failing to understand.
She looked at the situation for a moment. Then she looked back down at her intake folders. On the opposite side of the lobby, a man in his mid4s with a yellow legal pad tucked under his arm slowed his pace. Jonathan Carter was an attorney who had been in this courthouse enough times to know what a routine security interaction looked like and what it did not look like. This did not look like one.
He stopped near a bench along the east wall and found something in his bag to occupy himself with. At the screening lane, Ethan's posture had changed in a way that Camille recognized. She had seen it in courtrooms and in depositions and in the transcripts of encounters that ended badly. It was the posture of a person who had decided that the other person's non-compliance was itself the problem, not the credential failure, not the missing verification, the non-compliance. Ma'am, I need you to move to the public entrance or I will need to treat this as a security concern.
I've stated my name and requested identity verification through the internal directory. That is the appropriate response to a credential failure. I have not refused to be identified. I have not attempted to enter without verification. I've asked you to verify.
Last time, public entrance. I'd like your supervisor, please. Ethan stepped around the screening station. He was slightly taller than her, and he positioned himself in a way that reduced the space between them. You're creating a problem.
I'm requesting a standard procedure. Those are not the same thing. He stepped forward, his hand shot out and closed around her upper arm. Not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough that she felt the full intention behind it, and he turned her bodily toward the lobby entrance. "Come with me," Camille went completely still.