"But consider what you'll tell them. How will you explain assaulting a peaceful citizen in front of a federal judge? How will you justify violating department policy and constitutional rights in front of all these witnesses? The crowd had swelled to fill the sidewalk, spilling into the street. Their phones captured every moment, every word, every twitch of Ror's face as he tried to maintain his authority while everything spiraled out of his control.
The sirens were very close now, their whale bouncing off the buildings. Ror's radio crackled again with dispatch asking for an update, but he couldn't free a hand to respond without releasing either the handcuffs or his grip on Isaiah. His face showed the growing realization that he'd backed himself into a corner, but pride still wouldn't let him find a way out. "Just following procedure," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Just maintaining order.
Is that what you call this? Judge Price asked softly. Order. Two police cruisers pulled up to the curb, their lights flashing against the building windows. Lieutenant Pamela Sloan stepped out of the first vehicle, her movements precise and controlled.
She surveyed the scene with practiced efficiency. The crowd with their phones raised, Officer Ror still gripping Isaiah, and Judge Price standing firm nearby. Recognition flickered across her face as she spotted Judge Price. In an instant, her entire demeanor shifted. Where there had been stern authority, there was now diplomatic concern.
She approached with measured steps, her voice carrying clearly to the watching crowd. "Your honor," she said, inclining her head respectfully. "I apologize for this unfortunate situation. We'll get this sorted out immediately. " She turned to Ror, her tone sharp but professional. Officer Ror, release Mr.
She paused, looking at Isaiah. Boon, Judge Price supplied. Isaiah Boon, release Mr. Boon immediately, Sloan ordered. Ror hesitated for a fraction of a second before complying, his movements stiff with suppressed anger.
The handcuff fell away from Isaiah's wrist, leaving a red mark where it had been too tight. Isaiah straightened his clothes with quiet dignity, his face betraying no emotion, as he looked at his scattered belongings on the sidewalk. A young woman from the crowd stepped forward to help him gather his things, shooting a glare at Ror as she did so. "Mr. Boon," Sloan said, her voice pitched to carry to the onlookers.
Please accept our sincere apologies for this misunderstanding. You're free to go about your day. " She gestured to one of the other officers who had arrived. "Officer Martinez will help you collect your belongings. " The crowd began to murmur, some nodding in approval at the apparent resolution, others still recording with suspicious expressions. Judge Price watched the scene unfold, his eyes sharp and observant. Lieutenant, he said, I trust this incident will be properly documented.
Of course, your honor, Sloan replied smoothly. We take these matters very seriously. There will be a full review of the circumstances, she turned to address the crowd. Thank you all for your concern, but the situation is now under control. Please go about your business.
The onlookers began to disperse slowly, though many continued filming as they walked away. Isaiah had finished gathering his belongings, his few possessions now tucked back into his worn backpack. He stood quietly, waiting. "Mr. Boon," Judge Price said.
"Would you like me to stay? " Isaiah shook his head slightly. "No, sir. Thank you for your help. " His voice was steady, but exhaustion lined every word. As Judge Price reluctantly prepared to leave, Lieutenant Sloan moved closer to Ror, speaking in low tones that didn't carry beyond their immediate space, she gripped his arm firmly, steering him toward one of the police cruisers. ""In the car," she muttered. "Now. "" Once inside, with the doors closed and windows up, Sloan's diplomatic mask fell away.