On the screen was a ceremony in Washington, D.C. The Attorney General was standing at a podium. Behind him stood Kendrick and Serena Voss. "For their extraordinary courage and dedication to the rule of law," the Attorney General said, "Special Agent Kendrick Voss and Senior Prosecutor Serena Voss are awarded the Attorney General's Award for Distinguished Service." "Their work in dismantling the systemic corruption in Alabama has become a model for civil rights enforcement nationwide."
The camera zoomed in on Kendrick. He looked strong, stoic. He didn't look like a victim. He looked like a victor. Bryce leaned on his broom handle.
He felt a strange emotion. It wasn't anger anymore. It wasn't even jealousy. It was resignation. He remembered the moment on the side of the road, the heat, the arrogance, the feeling that he was a god in his own little kingdom.
"I picked the wrong fight," Bryce thought. "I saw a Black man in a nice car, and I saw a criminal. I should have seen a king." "Hey, Callahan, move it," a guard shouted. "Floor ain't going to sweep itself."
"Yes, boss," Bryce muttered. He looked down at the linoleum and kept sweeping. The dust piles moved back and forth going nowhere, just like him. Meanwhile, in Atlanta, Kendrick and Serena walked out of the Department of Justice building. The ceremony was over.
They had the medals in velvet boxes, but they weren't wearing them. They walked to the parking garage. Their car was waiting. A new one. A dark blue SUV.
Government issue bulletproof glass. "You think he's watching?" Serena asked, tossing her bag into the backseat. "Bryce?" Kendrick paused, hand on the door handle.
"Yeah, I think he is. He has plenty of time to watch TV where he is." "Do you feel bad for him?" Serena asked. Kendrick looked at her.
He thought about the years of terror Bryce had inflicted on people who didn't have a badge to protect them. He thought about the fathers taken from their children, the careers ruined by false charges, the fear in the eyes of the community. "No," Kendrick said simply. "He got exactly what he ordered. We just delivered it."
He got into the car. The engine purred to life. "Where to next?" Serena asked, buckling up. "I heard there's a sheriff in Mississippi who thinks he can seize voting machines."
Kendrick smiled. He put the car in gear. "Let's go say hello," he said. The SUV rolled out of the dark garage and into the bright, blinding light of the afternoon sun. They were hunters now, but they weren't hunting for sport.
They were hunting for justice, and business was good. And that is the story of how Officer Bryce Callahan learned the hardest lesson of his life. He thought his badge made him untouchable. He thought his prejudice was patriotism. But he forgot that in the United States of America, nobody is above the law, especially not the people sworn to enforce it.
Bryce is currently serving his reduced sentence. He lost his pension, his family, and his freedom. Kendrick and Serena Voss continue to serve at the highest levels of the federal government, reminding corrupt officials everywhere that you never know who is behind the tinted windows of the car you just pulled over. Karma isn't just a concept. Sometimes it's a federal agent with a warrant.