She knew this would blow up. But even she didn't grasp how fast. Travis dragged Ava to his Explorer, ignoring her protests. "You have the right to remain silent." He barked.
"You'd better use it." She tried again. Voice calm despite the pain. "Check my credentials, officer. There's a folder on the front seat."
He sneered. "Save it for the judge." Her knees nearly buckled as he pushed her into the back seat. The cuffs cutting deeper. He turned off his body cam, muttering, "Battery low."
Though both of them knew it wasn't true. As the car rolled out of the garage, Ava stared at the rearview mirror. She saw her reflection. A woman who'd built her life on justice, now reduced to a suspect by one man's ignorance. Her phone vibrated on the dashboard with call after call from the FBI field office.
But Travis didn't care. He just needed control. Needed to prove to himself that he still mattered. Years of resentment, divorce, debt, disciplinary warnings had hollowed him out until only bitterness remained. At the precinct two younger officers watched in confusion as Travis hauled Ava through the side entrance.
"What she charged with?" One asked. "Breaking into a vehicle." Travis said, "Could be stolen." Ava raised her hands, calm and precise despite the cuffs.
"That's my car. And I'm the US Attorney for this district." Silence filled the room. The younger officer looked from her face to Travis's and stammered, "Wait. Did you Did you verify that?"
Travis shot him a glare sharp enough to kill the question. "Booker." He ordered, "I'll handle the paperwork." The surveillance camera above the intake desk blinked twice, then went black. Another malfunction across town.
Jaylen Brooks paced outside the courthouse, phone in hand. Ava was late, something that had never happened in 10 years of friendship. When he finally saw the viral clip spreading online, his blood ran cold. The caption read, "Black woman assaulted by Atlanta cop. She said she's a prosecutor."
Within minutes, millions were watching. Justice For Ava began trending as protesters started gathering outside the precinct gates. Inside her holding cell Ava sat alone on a narrow bench, the concrete cold beneath her feet. Her wrists were raw, her briefcase gone. She could still hear the echo of the officer's voice in her head.