"Hands where I can see them. Now. " Dwayne looked toward the officers, and the confusion on his face was immediately genuine. He released Patricia and stepped back, his hands coming up instinctively. "What?
I was breaking up a fight between I said hands up. " Bennett had his weapon drawn now, pointing it directly at Dwayne. "On your knees. Get on your knees right now. " And at that exact moment, Carol Stevens came out of her front door and crossed the street at a near run, pointing at Dwayne with her whole arm extended.
"That's him. That's the one I called about. He was beating up that woman right there. " Patricia Mills looked at the officers, looked at Carol, and made a decision that took less than a second. The fear and adrenaline of the fight were still running through her, and she saw two police officers with weapons outstanding between her and the man who had been restraining her.
She made her calculation. "Officers, please help me. " Patricia's voice shifted into something that sounded like distress rather than aggression. "This black man and that black woman were both ganging up on me. I was defending myself.
" Dwayne's voice cut through immediately, direct and clear. "That is not true. I was breaking up their fight. I don't even know either of them. I just moved to this neighborhood 2 weeks ago.
" Bennett was already moving toward him. "On your knees, right now. Hands on your head. " Dwayne had 20 years of law enforcement experience, and every single year of that experience told him the same thing in this moment. Arguing was not going to help him.
Resisting was not going to help him. He knew exactly how this worked, and he knew that the only path through this situation that didn't end with him face down on the pavement was compliance. He got on his knees and placed both hands on his head. Bennett moved behind him and Marsh came in from the side and together they pulled Dwayne's arms behind his back and snapped the handcuffs onto his wrists. Dwayne spoke the entire time they were cuffing him, his voice controlled but firm.
"I was breaking up a fight between two women. Nobody else was stepping in. I was trying to help. This is a mistake. " Neither officer responded to a single word he said.
Carol stood on the sidewalk with her arms folded watching with the satisfied expression of someone who believed they had done something heroic. Denise had disappeared from the scene entirely. Patricia Mills stood nearby watching as Dwayne was walked to the patrol car and the neighbors who had been watching from their porches and phones continued to watch as the officers put Dwayne in the backseat and closed the door. Dwayne sat in the back of that patrol car and said nothing for the entire drive to the station. He looked out the window and thought about everything he had just experienced, the weapon drawn on him, the order to his knees, the woman he had been trying to help turning against him, the neighbor who had called from her window without knowing anything beyond what her bias told her.
He had spent 20 years in law enforcement and he had heard stories like this from community members his entire career. He had believed them. But experiencing it himself in his own neighborhood on a Saturday morning after a run was something different. When the patrol car pulled into the station, Dwayne still said nothing. He let himself be walked inside, stood at the processing desk, and watched as the officer behind the counter, Sergeant Dave Collins, took his ID and began entering his information into the system.
Collins looked at the name on the ID. He looked again. His hands stopped moving. He looked up at Dwayne sitting in the processing area with handcuffs on and his face had gone completely pale. Sergeant Dave Collins set Dwayne's ID down on the desk slowly and pulled up the department memo on his computer with hands that were noticeably unsteady.