The first blow landed before James Carter even understood why the men were on his property.
The baton struck his left shoulder with enough force to spin him halfway around.
He stumbled across the wet grass, caught himself with one hand, and stared at the four men surrounding him.
Dark navy uniforms.
Metal badges.
Utility belts.
Batons.
Handcuffs.
Tasers.
One of them was holding a radio.
Another stood beside a small security vehicle with flashing blue-and-amber lights.
For half a second, James thought they were police officers.
Then he saw the patch.
LAKEWOOD COMMUNITY PATROL.
James slowly straightened.
His shoulder burned.
"What exactly are you doing on my property?"
The tallest man stepped forward.
"James Carter?"
"Yes."
"You are being detained for refusing a lawful community order."
James almost smiled.
"Community order?"
"You were instructed to stop construction on your rear fence."
"I wasn't constructing anything."
The man raised his baton.
"Turn around."
James didn't move.
He was sixty-four years old.
Retired.
Black.
Six-foot-one.
Broad-shouldered despite the years.
And for thirty-one years, he had been a special agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
He had worked organized crime.
Public corruption.
Civil-rights violations.
Police misconduct.
He had interviewed people who thought badges made them untouchable.
He had arrested men who believed nobody would ever investigate them.
And now four men wearing costumes that resembled police uniforms were standing in his yard.
James looked at the badge of the man in front.
"What agency are you with?"
"Lakewood Community Patrol."
"That's not a law-enforcement agency."
The man's jaw tightened.
"Turn around."
James heard footsteps behind him.
Another guard moved closer.
James raised his hands.
"Nobody needs to touch me."
The man grabbed his arm.
James pulled away.
The baton came down again.
This time across his back.
James fell to one knee.
And that was the moment something changed.
Because the four men thought they were dealing with an old homeowner who didn't understand authority.
They didn't know James had spent decades studying exactly what unlawful authority looked like.
They didn't know the cameras mounted beneath his roofline were recording every second.
They didn't know a federal surveillance team was monitoring activity two streets away.
And they certainly didn't know that James Carter had once been the man federal agents called when someone wearing a badge abused the power behind it.
James looked up.
"You're making a mistake."
The tallest guard laughed.
"You're going to tell us that?"
James nodded.
"Yes."
Then he looked directly into the camera mounted above his garage.
"Because everything you're doing is being recorded."
The men glanced upward.
For the first time, uncertainty crossed their faces.
James smiled faintly.
"Now you're beginning to understand."
Three months earlier, Lakewood Estates had been an ordinary neighborhood.