She walked slowly around the metal table, her footsteps echoing sharply. "Captain," Travis started, his voice a desperate, dry croak.
"Look, I—I overstepped. I admit that it was a bad call. But you have to understand the pressure we're under out here, the things we see. We have to make snap judgments to protect the community. It was a mistake."
"A mistake?" Emma repeated, tasting the word. She stopped directly across from him, leaning her hands on the cold steel table.
"A mistake is filing the wrong form. A mistake is forgetting to read Miranda. You didn't make a mistake, Holt. You hunted."
"I was doing police work," Travis pleaded, trying to summon some of his old bravado, but it withered under her stare. "I profiled a vehicle that looked suspicious. You know how it is. The Brotherhood—" "Do not insult me by invoking the badge you just disgraced."
Emma's voice cracked like a whip, making Travis flinch.
"You profiled a black woman driving a car you decided she couldn't afford. You illegally searched my vehicle when you couldn't find a crime. You manufactured one. You planted narcotics. You falsified a police report. You committed perjury the second you signed that arrest narrative."
Travis swallowed hard, sweat beading on his forehead. "The union will back me. Gary Mitchell is my rep. He won't let you railroad me."
Emma pulled out her phone and set it on the table. She tapped the screen, bringing up a contact and then hitting speakerphone. The phone rang twice before a gruff voice answered. "Mitchell."
"Mr. Mitchell, this is Captain Emma Grace, the new commanding officer of District 9." There was a long pause on the other end. "Captain, word travels fast. I hear you've got one of my guys in the box. Officer Holt."
"Gary?" Travis yelled at the phone. "Gary, they're trying to set me up. They locked me in the box without a lawyer. Man, you got to get down here."
"Mr. Mitchell," Emma said calmly, ignoring Travis. "I wanted to formally inform you that Officer Holt is currently under investigation for civil rights violations, kidnapping under the color of law, evidence tampering, and possession of a Schedule II narcotic. The victim in this case is me. The incident occurred prior to my official start time."
Silence hung heavy on the line. Travis looked at the phone, a desperate, pleading look in his eyes. "Gary, tell her you're filing a grievance. Tell her—"