The total absence of anything resembling danger. Afternoon. We got a call about this address. Can I get your name? Anthony Freeman.
This is my home. That's my mother. Aristine, the birthday queen. My wife, Regina, my brother, Levy, who is responsible for whatever that smoker is doing to your willpower right now. Grady's mustache twitched.
The smell really was doing things. He's lying, Lindsay announced. Arriving into the middle of everything. Breathless. One hand pressed to her chest.
The picture of a beautiful woman under siege. Officers. I came over in good faith, very politely, and that man lunged at me. The big one threatened me, too. There are open containers.
The music is at illegal levels. I have decel readings. Todd has everything on camera every second. Todd confirmed. Zooming.
Ma'am. Grady kept his voice in neutral. Did he touch you? He didn't have to touch me. It was his energy.
He came toward me in a threatening manner. I feared for my life. She said it smoothly, rehearsed, and then leaned in, lowering her voice into a confidential register. Woman to institution. Look, I know how this works.
I'm a homeowner. I sell half the houses in this zip code. You take him in. You sort it out downtown and everybody's afternoon gets simpler. Okay, that's not quite how it works.
Ma'am, it's exactly how it works. Sweetie, it's how it worked on the last street I lived on. She snapped her fingers at her husband without looking. Todd, the file. Todd produced the legal pad like a courtroom exhibit.
Lindsay flipped it open against her forearm and began presenting decel readings taken every 15 minutes. Time stamped. Photographs of 11 vehicles. Plates visible. The distance from that smoker to my fence line measured twice.