"Know your place, girl," he spat. "Trash like you doesn't speak in my court."
The bailiffs froze. The gallery sat in stunned silence. Nobody moved as the red handprint blossomed on the widow's cheek. But none of them knew what the next eleven seconds would cost the officer.
Faith didn't yell. She didn't cry.
Second 1: Faith stood up, her movement fluid and completely devoid of panic.
Second 3: Hollister reached for his service belt, realizing too late that the woman in the navy dress wasn't a victim.
Second 5: Faith intercepted his wrist. She applied a Krav Maga joint-lock she had perfected at Fort Bragg, rotating her hip a quarter-inch.
Second 8: The mechanical advantage forced Hollister's elbow upward, completely neutralizing his balance and agonizing his shoulder joint without breaking it.
Second 10: She swept his front leg.
Second 11: Hollister hit the floor hard, face-down. Faith had his arm pinned behind his back, her knee resting lightly but firmly between his shoulder blades.
The entire courtroom erupted, but Faith's voice cut through the chaos, calm and perfectly steady.