Stop playing nice with these frauds. Read her rights and throw her in the back of the cruiser."" Finch spun around, his face pale and eyes wide with a mixture of terror and sudden furious resentment towards the man who had initiated this disaster. "Back off, sir." Finch yelled, his voice cracking. ""Just back away from the vehicle and shut your mouth."" Mitchell stopped in his tracks, blinking in confusion. ""Excuse me? I'm the one who called you.
I'm the patriot here."" "You're an idiot." Finch hissed under his breath, trembling as he reached for his shoulder mic. He pressed the button. ""Dispatch, this is Unit 42. I need a sector supervisor at the Route One Shell immediately. Code Three."" ""Copy, Unit 42.
Supervisor en route." For the next four minutes nobody moved. Alicia stood rigidly against her car, her posture perfect despite the steel biting into her wrists. Finch paced back and forth, dragging his hands over his face, occasionally glancing at the cameras recording his demise. A heavy black SUV roared into the gas station lot, braking sharply next to Finch's cruiser.
The door swung open and Sergeant William Lawson stepped out. Lawson was a 20-year veteran of the force, a man with graying temples who had zero patience for rookie mistakes. Lawson took one look at the scene. A Black woman in an immaculate army uniform handcuffed against a vehicle and his junior officer looking like he was about to vomit. "Finch!"
Lawson snapped, striding forward. ""What the hell is going on here?"" Finch couldn't speak. He just shakily extended his hand, offering Lawson the military ID. Lawson snatched the card. He looked at the name. Colonel Reynolds, Alicia M.
Lawson's eyes widened. He looked at Alicia, then back to the card, then down at the handcuffs securing her wrists. A look of absolute horror washed over the veteran sergeant's face. He knew immediately that Finch had just detonated a legal and public relations nuclear bomb. "Get the keys!"
Lawson growled at Finch, his voice vibrating with barely suppressed rage. ""Get the keys and take those off her right this second!"" Finch practically tripped over his own boots, rushing forward to unlock the cuffs. The metal clicked open and Alicia slowly brought her arms forward, rubbing her bruised wrists. "Colonel Reynolds," Sergeant Lawson said, his tone entirely deferential. He stood at attention, a stark contrast to Finch's earlier swagger. "Ma'am, I cannot apologize enough.
This is an egregious failure of protocol and judgment. Are you injured?" "I am uninjured, Sergeant," Alicia said, her voice steady and commanding. She adjusted her sleeves, brushing the wrinkled fabric over her unit patch. But your officer here assaulted me, illegally detained me, and violated my Fourth Amendment rights, all on the unverified word of a civilian who was harassing me based on his own racial and gender biases.
Lawson shot a lethal glare at Finch. "Finch, go sit in your cruiser. Do not speak. Do not touch your radio." Finch didn't argue.
He walked to his cruiser like a man marching to the gallows, shutting himself inside. Ma'am, we will handle this internally. He will face severe disciplinary action, Lawson promised, practically pleading. I can assure you you won't be handling this internally, Sergeant, Alicia interrupted, pulling her phone from her pocket. She looked directly into Lawson's eyes.