It was an interrogation from the first syllable. "I'm inspecting the brickwork on this property," Harrison replied evenly, gesturing to the house. "Is this your house?" Miller asked, his eyes narrowing as he looked Harrison up and down, clearly taking in the paint-stained clothes. "It belongs to my daughter.
She just closed on it on Thursday," Harrison said. He made a deliberate effort to keep his hands visible, resting them gently on the clipboard. Miller let out a short, harsh scoff. "Right. Your daughter just bought a house in Kensington Heights, and I'm the King of England.
Step down off the porch and show me some ID." Harrison didn't move immediately. "Officer, I'm on private property conducting lawful business. Am I suspected of committing a crime?" Miller's face flushed.
He wasn't used to being questioned, especially not by someone he had already mentally categorized as a subordinate. "You're suspected of trespassing on a vacant property. Now, get down here and give me your ID before I decide to put you in bracelets." Harrison took a slow, deliberate breath. He could have ended it right there.
He could have told the officer exactly who he was. But a part of Harrison, the part that had spent his entire life fighting for civil rights, the part that remembered what it was like to be a young man harassed on the street before he had a law degree to protect him, wanted to see exactly how far Officer Miller was willing to take this. He wanted to see how this officer treated an ordinary citizen who didn't have the shield of a federal judgeship. Harrison walked slowly down the steps. My identification is in my wallet, which is locked in the glove compartment of my truck.
I can retrieve it for you if you'd like. "You aren't getting in that truck," Miller snapped, stepping into Harrison's path. "Turn around and put your hands on the hood of my cruiser." "Officer," Harrison said, his voice dropping an octave, carrying the same stern weight he used when a hostile witness was acting out of line in his courtroom. "I am perfectly willing to cooperate with a lawful order, but I am not going to submit to an unlawful search or seizure.
I have not committed a crime." You have no reasonable articulable suspicion that a crime has been committed. I have explained my presence here. Miller laughed, a cruel grating sound. "Oh, we got a roadside lawyer here.
Let me tell you how this works, pal." You look like you're casing a house. And that piece of junk truck you drove in here with, it's parked illegally. Harrison glanced over his shoulder at his Chevrolet. "It is legally parked.
I am 15 ft from the hydrant exactly as the municipal code requires. And my tires are within 6 in of the curb." "It's an eyesore, and it's violating the homeowners association street parking ordinance." Miller lied smoothly, taking a step closer, trying to use his physical presence to intimidate the older man. Which gives me the right to cite it.