“I know what they say.”
“Did you verify them?”
“They could be fake.”
Rodriguez looked at him.
“You think this woman manufactured federal judicial credentials to steal shopping bags from her own registered Mercedes?”
Hutchins’s face reddened.
“I said process her.”
Rodriguez closed the wallet.
“No.”
Silence.
Hutchins stared.
Rodriguez stood.
“I’m getting the watch commander.”
“You don’t need—”
“I do.”
Lieutenant Marcus Freeman had been with the San Diego Police Department twenty-one years.
He had learned that the worst calls often began with somebody saying:
“You need to see this.”
Rodriguez entered his office.
Closed the door.
Placed the credential on his desk.
Freeman looked down.
Then back up.
“Where did you get this?”
“Booking.”
“Who?”
“Hutchins.”
Freeman picked up the card.
His eyes moved quickly over the information.
“Charge?”
“Interfering with investigation. Maybe obstruction. He hasn’t finished the probable-cause statement.”
“Underlying offense?”
“Unclear.”
Freeman stood.
“What happened?”
“She was loading bags into her own vehicle.”
Freeman froze.
“Say that again.”
“According to Hutchins, suspicious-person call. Her license matches the car. Registration matches. She showed federal credentials. He arrested her anyway.”
Freeman swore under his breath.
Then stopped.
“Body camera?”
“Active.”
“Witnesses?”
“Apparently.”
Freeman walked out.
He entered processing.
Kesha sat in a holding chair.
Cuffs still on.
Their eyes met.
He knew who she was.
Not personally.
By reputation.
He had testified in federal court years earlier in a different judge’s courtroom and remembered seeing her name on rulings.
“Judge Langford.”
Kesha looked at him.
“Lieutenant?”
“Marcus Freeman.”
He turned toward Rodriguez.
“Remove the cuffs.”
Hutchins stepped forward.
“Lieutenant, she was—”
Freeman raised a hand.
“Not one word.”
Rodriguez removed the cuffs.
Red marks circled Kesha’s wrists.
Freeman saw them.
His expression darkened.
“Judge, I apologize.”
Kesha rubbed one wrist.
“What was I arrested for?”
Freeman did not improvise.
“That is being reviewed.”
“What was the probable cause?”
“I need to examine the report.”
“Good answer.”
Freeman understood there was no compliment in it.
Kesha stood.
“I want preservation notices issued immediately.”
Hutchins stared at her.
Freeman nodded.
“Body camera.”
“Yes.”
“Dash camera.”
“Yes.”
“Mall surveillance.”
“We’ll request it.”
“No.”
Kesha looked directly at him.
“You will send written preservation notice before anyone decides the footage is routine and overwrites it.”
Freeman nodded.
“Understood.”
“Dispatch recording.”
“Yes.”
“CAD log.”
“Yes.”
“Initial caller identification.”
Freeman wrote mentally.
“Hutchins’s database queries.”
“Yes.”
“Booking-room footage.”
Rodriguez glanced toward the ceiling camera.
“Yes.”
“Every internal message concerning my arrest.”
Freeman hesitated.
Kesha saw it.
“Yes, Lieutenant.”