Boyd opened his mouth, stammering, desperately trying to find his voice. "I I made a lawful stop, sir. They refused a search. The law says "The law?" Cole interrupted, his voice rising, vibrating with a righteous, unyielding anger.
"Do not speak to me of the law. You targeted two of my finest operators because of the color of their skin and the vehicle they drove. You attempted to steal highly encrypted military hardware. You ignored direct, recorded warnings from a federal command center, choosing instead to play local tyrant." Judge Higgins finally found her voice, though it trembled uncontrollably as she stood up.
"Now see here. This is my courtroom. You cannot simply march in here with armed soldiers. This is a state matter. I am in the middle of signing a civil asset forfeiture order for the contraband.
Cole slowly turned his massive frame to face the bench. He reached into the inner breast pocket of his uniform jacket and produced a thick folded document. He tossed it casually onto the judge's desk. That is a federal injunction signed by a United States District Court Judge 15 minutes ago, immediately voiding all local jurisdiction in this matter. You are no longer presiding over a traffic stop, Judge.
You are sitting in the epicenter of a massive federal investigation regarding the theft of classified United States property and the unlawful detainment of active-duty military personnel. Higgins looked down at the document, her eyes scanning the official federal seals and signatures. Her knees buckled slightly and she fell heavily back into her leather chair. Cole gestured sharply to the lead MP. Get those chains off my men, now.
The MP stepped forward producing a heavy master key. In a matter of seconds, the thick iron shackles fell to the hardwood floor with a series of loud echoing clangs. Jackson and Ty rubbed their wrists, the deep red indentations visible on their dark skin. Ty looked over his shoulder at Boyd and flashed that same cold razor-thin smile he had given him in the jail cell the night before. Told you the waiting was over, Deputy.
Ty whispered. Boyd looked around frantically, his eyes darting across the room searching for an ally, an exit, any escape from the nightmare he had manifested. He looked at Sheriff Montgomery, who was cowering in the back row of the gallery, completely defeated, refusing to make eye contact. Boyd's small, corrupt kingdom was burning to the ground, and he was standing right in the center of the inferno. Cole turned to the two men in suits.
Agents, the floor is yours. I want this entire precinct dismantled down to the studs. Special Agent Reynolds, the lead FBI agent, stepped forward from the gallery. He did not possess the explosive or inspiring fury of Admiral Cole, but he carried something equally terrifying, the cold, bureaucratic weight of the federal government. He unlatched his briefcase, pulled out a thick stack of manila folders, and slapped them aggressively onto the prosecution table.
"Frankie Boyd," Agent Reynolds stated, his voice flat, loud, and incredibly clinical, "you are officially under arrest for federal civil rights violations, kidnapping under the color of law, attempted theft of classified federal property, and perjury. Turn around and put your hands behind your back." Boyd's knees gave out. The sheer gravity of the charges finally crashed through his thick armor of arrogance. "Kidnapping?
It was just a traffic stop. It was just a misunderstanding. Sheriff, tell them. Tell them it's how we do things around here." Sheriff Montgomery looked away, his face pale and slick with nervous sweat.