He swiped again and heard the same refusal tone. From inside, Kowalski opened the door but did not step aside. "Royce, surrender your badge, firearm, and department keys," he said. Harlan blinked in disbelief.
"What's going on? Is this about that fake ID?" Kowalski's face hardened.
"This is about what you did. Don't make it worse." Agent Sterling appeared beside him and identified herself. She told Harlan that he was being taken into custody on a federal complaint alleging intentional deprivation of rights and obstruction-related offenses, and she advised him of his rights.
Harlan stared at the badge in her hand. "You're arresting me?" he asked. Sterling said that the allegation was serious and that he would have an opportunity to consult counsel. Harlan turned to Kowalski.
"Sarge, tell them. I was doing my job." The sergeant lowered his eyes for a moment, then met Harlan's gaze. "You had choices all afternoon, Royce. You kept making the wrong ones." With the officer's equipment secured and the arrest documented, Sterling's colleague escorted Harlan through the doorway away from the reporters.
Dez stood farther down the corridor with Harrison and Colonel Vance. He did not approach the restrained officer or try to turn the moment into a performance. Harlan saw him and stopped. "You knew who you were," he said bitterly. "You could've shown me that fancy card and saved yourself the trouble." Dez looked at the officer for several seconds.
"I showed you my driver's license," he replied. "I told you the truth. It should not have taken a government credential to make you listen." Harlan said nothing. Sterling guided him onward.
There was no cheering in the corridor. Dez had expected to feel victorious when he saw Harlan in cuffs, but the feeling never arrived. The young officer's fear made him remember the helplessness of the back seat and the risk of being judged by someone who refused to hear an answer. None of that made Harlan's actions acceptable. It simply reminded Dez how little pleasure there was in watching another person lose control of his future. He turned toward the exit and asked Harrison when he could go home.
The attorney told him he was no longer under arrest and that the department would provide formal paperwork confirming the release, but the complaint and related investigations would take longer. Dez asked the same question again, more quietly. "Can I go home tonight?" Harrison touched his arm.
"Yes, Dez. You can go home." For a moment, those four words were all that mattered.
The ride home was uneventful. Harrison drove because Dez did not want to sit behind the wheel while his hands still tingled. The attorney offered to stop at a clinic, and Dez agreed after looking down at the bruised skin where the cuffs had bitten.