Whitaker handed the documents back to Rivers and shook his head. "If this deed is fake, why would we call a number printed on it? We're not going to do that." Rivers looked at him for a moment. ""So, you're refusing to verify the documents by contacting the issuing company?" "We need to verify everything at the station."
Whitaker said. "You need to come with us." "I'm not going to any station." Rivers said clearly. "I have just shown you my deed and my proof of ownership for this property.
I have offered you a direct way to verify their authenticity. I know my rights and I'm standing in them right now." Barrett shifted his weight slightly, his eyes moving between Whitaker and Rivers, something in his expression suggesting a discomfort he wasn't prepared to voice in front of his senior officer. "You need to calm down." Whitaker said, his voice dropping to something more authoritative.
We told you those documents could be fake. We're not calling any number off a potentially fraudulent deed. You need to come with us to the station so we can sort this out properly. "You want to arrest me," Rivers said, "even after I've shown you ownership documentation for this property?" Whitaker didn't answer the question directly.
"Turn around slowly and we'll get this sorted out at the station," he said, taking a step closer. Rivers looked at Whitaker, then at Barrett, then back at Whitaker. Both officers were moving now, closing the space between them and Rivers with the body language of men about to make an arrest. Rivers had shown them his deed. He had shown them his proof of ownership.
He had offered them a way to verify everything in 30 seconds. They had dismissed all of it. He reached into his back pocket slowly, making sure both officers could see his hands clearly and produced a leather badge wallet. He opened it and held it up so both officers could see the badge and the identification card behind the clear plastic window. Houston Police Department, Chief of Police, Malcolm Rivers.