Patricia waited.
“The registration.”
“The ID.”
“The computer.”
“The facts.”
Sam nodded.
“And when he did check, the facts didn’t matter.”
Patricia set her glass down.
“Then?”
“I became curious.”
She looked at him.
“That is an alarming thing for a handcuffed man to say.”
“I know.”
“Curious about what?”
“What happens if I’m nobody.”
Patricia’s face softened.
Sam continued.
“If I say I’m a justice, maybe he stops.”
“Yes.”
“But the man driving behind me tomorrow may be a plumber.”
He looked toward her.
“The teenager next week might work at a grocery store.”
“The woman next month might be unemployed.”
Patricia nodded.
“If I need a title before dignity becomes mandatory, then dignity isn’t mandatory.”
The evening grew quieter.
A car passed.
Sam watched it disappear.
“I was lucky.”
Patricia looked at the marks that had long since faded from his wrists.
“You didn’t feel lucky that afternoon.”
“No.”
“But I was.”
He counted without using his fingers.
“A wife who knew what to do.”
“An attorney.”
“Daniel.”
“Cameras.”