Her eyes turned hard as she looked at Ror. "You've created quite a mess," she said, her voice cold. "A federal judge? Really? " Ror started to speak, but she cut him off with a sharp gesture. I don't want to hear it.
Here's what's going to happen. You're going to write your report immediately. In it, you will detail how Mr. Boon was acting aggressively, refusing commands, and creating a disturbance that required police intervention. "But the judge—" Ror began.
"I'll handle the judge," Sloan interrupted. Your report needs to establish grounds for your initial approach. Make it clear that Mr. Boon's behavior necessitated action. Keep it simple.
Stick to department keywords and do not deviate from that narrative. Understood? Ror nodded slowly, his earlier bravado replaced by a growing understanding of the situation's gravity. Sloan continued, her voice barely above a whisper. I'm going to contact building security right now.
That camera above the storefront, that footage needs to be secured before anyone else thinks to request it. The same goes for any traffic cameras or private security feeds in the area. She pulled out her phone quickly typing out a message. I'm sending a team from technical services. They'll handle the footage collection.
If anyone asks, it's part of our standard review process. Through the windshield, they could see Isaiah slowly walking away, his shoulders straight despite the morning's events. Judge Price had already departed, though several onlookers lingered, still watching the police presence with weary eyes. "What about all their phone recordings? " Ror asked, gesturing to the dispersing crowd. Cell phone videos are unreliable evidence, Sloan replied dismissively.
Partial recordings, unclear audio, biased perspectives. We can handle that. Official security footage is different. That needs to be contained. She checked her watch, her movements precise and controlled.
You have 1 hour to complete that report. I want it on my desk before any other narratives start circulating. Make it clean, make it believable, and make it stick to protocol. Outside the car, the morning had returned to its usual rhythm. Traffic moved steadily.
Pedestrians hurried past, and the last few onlookers finally turned away. The incident was already becoming just another story to share on social media, another viral moment to debate online. Lieutenant Sloan watched it all through the tinted windows, her expression now completely stripped of its earlier diplomatic concern. Her eyes tracked Isaiah's departing figure, then swept over the security cameras positioned above the street. She pulled out her phone again, sending another quick message. ""Remember," she said to Ror, her voice hard with finality. ""This incident resulted from a legitimate response to disorderly conduct. "" "That's the only version that exists.
That's the only version that will exist. " Judge Nathaniel Price stood motionless on the sidewalk where chaos had erupted just hours before. The morning crowd had thinned, leaving behind only scattered paper cups and the lingering tension in the air. His eyes fixed on the security camera above the storefront, its black lens staring back like a silent witness. The sound of shuffling drew his attention. Isaiah had returned to gather the last of his belongings, a tattered paperback book that had skidded under a bench during the confrontation.
His movements were careful, deliberate, as if each motion required careful consideration. "Sir," Judge Price called out, his voice gentle, but carrying authority. "May I speak with you for a moment? " Isaiah straightened slowly. The book clutched in his weathered hands. His eyes met the judges, carrying the weary calculation of someone who had learned to measure every interaction for potential threat.