The line went dead. Ford stared at the black screen of his phone, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. He looked at the McLaren, its doors wide open, the pristine interior violently torn apart. Devon's personal belongings scattered across the dirty shoulder of the road. It looked like a crime scene, and Ford was the sole perpetrator.
What did you do, Mitch? Jenkins asked, taking several steps away from his partner, desperately trying to put physical distance between himself and the radioactive veteran. What the hell did you just do to us? Ford wiped his face with the back of his arm. Desperation began to replace the shock.
He turned to Devon, his eyes wide and pleading. The power dynamic had violently inverted. Listen, kid. Devon. Ford started, his voice a frantic, high-pitched whine.
Let's be reasonable here. We can work this out. I made a mistake. I thought I smelled something okay. It happens.
It's hot out here. My senses played a trick on me. I'll put your stuff back in the car. I'll rip up the ticket. You can drive away right now.
No harm, no foul. We don't need to ruin anyone's life over a misunderstanding. Devon stood tall, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked at Ford with a mixture of pity and absolute disgust. It wasn't a misunderstanding, officer.
Devon said quietly. You saw a young black man driving a quarter-million-dollar car and you made a conscious decision to humiliate and destroy him. You manufactured a reason to stop me. You manufactured a reason to search me. If my last name was anything else, I would be on my way to a holding cell right now, and my father's car would be sitting in an impound lot.
You don't get to walk away from this. You little arrogant punk. Ford hissed, the fear briefly giving way to a flash of his inherent rage. He took a step toward Devon, his fists clenching. Mitch, back off.
Jenkins shouted, his hand dropping to his sidearm. It was a shocking breach of the blue wall of silence, but Jenkins was fighting for his own survival now. You take one more step toward him, and I swear to God, I will draw my weapon. Stand down. Ford stopped staring at Jenkins in disbelief.