It makes him angrier."All right, here's what's going to happen." "You're going to show me proof you live here, deed, mortgage papers, utility bills, something." "Those documents are inside." "Then let's go inside and get them." "You want to enter my home?" "Do you have a warrant?" His face reens."I don't need a warrant if you invite me." "I'm not inviting you." "Then I'm detaining you until we sort this out." "On what grounds?" "Trespassing?" "Trespassing on my own property?" "That's what I'm trying to determine." Simone's mind races. She could go inside, get her federal credentials, end this in seconds.
But anger burns in her chest. Why should she have to prove anything? She's done nothing wrong."Officer, I want your name and badge number." Whitmore touches his name plate slowly, deliberately.
"Whitmore, badge 4782." "Write it down." "I'll wait." "I will." "Trust me." "Ooh, a threat." "I'm shaking." He turns to the growing crowd."Everybody see that?" "She just threatened me." A teenager on a bicycle rolls up. Black kid, maybe 16. He pulls out his phone, points it at Whitmore.
"I'm recording this, officer, for the record." Whitmore spins."Put that phone away." "It's my right to record the police in public." "This is private property, kid." "Get lost before I arrest you, too." The teen doesn't move, just keeps recording. His screen shows view counts climbing. 47 people watching.
68 112. Whitmore's radio crackles. He ignores it."Last chance, lady." "Show me ID or I'm taking you in." Simone's hands shake.
Not from fear, from rage."Taking me in for what?" "Failure to identify." "Resisting." "I haven't resisted anything." "You've resisted every request I've made." "Your requests are unlawful." "There you go again, playing lawyer." "What are you, some paralegal secretary at a law firm?" The condescension in his voice makes her blood boil."I work in the justice system." Whitmore laughs."Let me guess." "Court secretary, filing clerk." He looks her up and down.
"No, wait." "You clean the courthouse bathrooms?" Eleanor gasps from her porch. Mr. Carter shakes his head. The teenager's live stream hits 340 viewers.
"Officer, you're making a serious mistake." "The only mistake here is you thinking you can live in a place like this." He gestures at the house."Half million dollar home." "Perfect roses." "You expect me to believe you can afford this?" "Why wouldn't I be able to afford it?" "Because people like you." He stops himself. Almost."People like me." "What?" "You know exactly what I mean." "Say it out loud." "For all these cameras." His face darkens.
"Don't push me." "I'm not pushing." "I'm standing in my own yard." The garden hose is still in her hand. Water drips from the nozzle. She'd turned it off when he first approached. Whitmore sees the hose, his eyes narrow.
"Put that down." "It's a garden hose." "Put it down now." She sets it gently on the grass. Water pools around it."Step away from it." "You're joking." "Do I look like I'm joking?" "Step away." She takes one step back."This is insane." "It's a garden hose." Whitmore keys his radio.
712 to dispatch."Requesting backup at 2847 Maple Ridge Drive." "Uncooperative subject." Static crackles. Copy. 7AM 12.
Nature of the call."Possible trespassing." "Subject refusing to identify." "Derek, don't." Mills voice carries from the patrol car. More neighbors emerge. A woman in yoga clothes.
A man walking his dog. Another teenager joins the first one. Both filming now. Simone looks at the crowd.
Eleanor with tears in her eyes. At the young couple holding hands, phones raised. Mr. Carter nodded at her.
Silent support. She looks at Whitmore. this man with a badge and a gun and 1five years of unchecked power and she makes a decision."Officer Whitmore, I'm going to reach into my back pocket now slowly to get my identification." "Keep your hands where I can see them." "My ID is in my back pocket." "I need to reach for it." "Fine." "Slow movements." Any sudden moves and he rests his hand on his gun. The crowd murmurs.
Someone shouts, "He's threatening her." Simone moves carefully, but as she shifts, her foot catches the garden hose. She stumbles slightly. The hose jerks. Water sprays up.
A few drops hit Whitmore's pants leg, barely noticeable. A splash, maybe a tablespoon of water. He looks down, looks at the wet spot on his uniform. His face transforms.
Pure rage."Did you just assault me?" "What?" "No, I tripped." "You just assaulted a police officer." "It was an accident." "I saw it." "You sprayed me deliberately." "Officer, that's not what happened." He lunges forward, grabs the garden hose from the ground. His movements are sharp, violent. Mills runs from the patrol car.
"Derek, stop." Whitmore twists the nozzle. The water spray changes from gentle mist to full jet. Maximum pressure. Simone sees it coming.
"Don't you dare." The water hits her face. The force of it stuns her. She raises her hands. Too late.
Water pounds her chest. Her shoulders cold, shocking, violent. She tries to turn away. He follows her with the stream like a predator.
"You think you can assault me?" He screams."You think you're special?" The water pressure knocks her backward. She trips over the rose bushes, falls hard onto the grass. He stands over her, still spraying.
Water floods her face. She can't breathe, can't see."Maybe this will teach you some respect." She's on the ground gasping, choking on water. Her hands over her face.
It doesn't help. 10 seconds. 20 30."Stop it." Eleanor screams, "She's drowning." 40 seconds.
Her blouse plasters to her skin. Her jeans soak through. Water fills her ears, her nose. Finally, he releases the trigger.
Silence, except for her gasping. She sits in a puddle on her own lawn. Water streams from her hair, her clothes. Mascara runs in black rivers down her cheeks.
Her briefcase lies open on the driveway. Papers float in puddles. Legal documents. Case files ruined.
Whitmore tosses the hose aside. He's breathing hard, smiling."Maybe that'll wash some of that attitude off you, sweetheart." The crowd erupts, shouting. Phones everywhere.
At least 10 people are recording now. The teenage live streamer screen shows 2,847 viewers. Mills stands frozen. His face is pale, horrified.
Eleanor sobs on her porch. Simone sits there, destroyed, humiliated, in front of her neighbors in her own front yard. Then slowly she pushes herself up. Water drips from every part of her body.
She wipes her face, looks at Whitmore. Her voice, when she speaks, is quiet. Deadly calm."Officer Whitmore, you have made the worst mistake of your career." He laughs.
"Is that a threat?" "No, that's a promise." She reaches into her back pocket. The wet denim makes it hard, but she gets her fingers around it, pulls it out. A metal badge case. Water drips from it.
Gold seal catches the sunlight. She opens it slowly. federal judicial credentials. Her photo, official seal of the United States courts. She holds it up for Whitmore to see, for the cameras to see.
"I'm Dr. Simone Laurent, federal judge for the United States Court of Appeals, 9th Circuit." The color drains from Whitmore's face. His mouth opens, closes. No sound comes out.
Simone's voice cuts through the silence. You just assaulted a federal judge on her own property in front of at least 40 witnesses. His hand trembles. The badge case gleams in the morning light.
Gold seal. Official photo. Unmistakable. That's "That's fake." His voice cracks.