Vance rubbed his wrist, adjusting his jacket as if simply brushing off dust. He didn't even look at Miller. He turned to one of the federal agents. "Secure the perimeter. No one leaves."
Jenkins stepped into the center of the precinct, commanding the room. "I am District Attorney Jenkins. As of this exact second, this precinct is an active federal crime scene."
She pointed a finger at the precinct Captain, who had just rushed out of his office, his tie half-undone.
"Captain," Jenkins said, her voice amplified in the dead silent room. "I am ordering every single camera in this building preserved. Booking area, holding cells, sally port, hallways. You will not overwrite, touch, or reboot the servers. If a single frame of video from the last two hours goes missing, I will charge you with destruction of federal evidence."
Miller felt his knees weaken. The cameras. The dome camera right above the desk. It had captured everything—his aggressive physical contact, his dismissal of the federal badge, the illegal detainment. There was no way to spin the narrative. The cinematic flow of his career was ending right on tape.
Within twenty minutes, the roles had completely reversed. The precinct was swarming with federal investigators. Miller found himself stripped of his gun and badge, sitting in the very interrogation room he usually controlled.