As Arthur approached the security checkpoint, he placed his briefcase flat on the conveyor belt of the x-ray machine. He unbuttoned his suit jacket with practiced ease and stepped forward to empty his pockets into the small plastic tray.
Miller, who had been leaning casually against a podium, stood up straight. He puffed out his chest and stepped out from behind his station, deliberately moving to block the walkway leading to the metal detector. He crossed his thick arms over his chest, his right hand resting uncomfortably close to the grip of his holstered service weapon.
"Hold it right there," Miller barked, his voice echoing slightly in the large lobby. It was a voice accustomed to unquestioned obedience.
Arthur stopped his forward motion. He did not look startled or intimidated. He simply looked at Miller with a neutral, expectant expression. "Good morning, Officer," Arthur said, his voice smooth and deeply resonant.
Chapter 3: Unreasonable Doubt
"I need to see some identification," Miller demanded, not returning the greeting. He took a step closer, invading Arthur's personal space in a classic intimidation tactic. "You don't look like you belong here."
Arthur did not back away. He calmly reached his right hand into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. His movements were slow and deliberate, ensuring there could be no misinterpretation of his actions. He withdrew a slim leather wallet, flipped it open, and produced two cards.
"I am Arthur Pendelton," he stated clearly, holding the cards out. "I am the lead defense attorney representing Julian Hayes. We have a 10:00 AM preliminary hearing scheduled in Courtroom B with Judge Harrison."
Miller snatched the cards from Arthur's fingers. He held them up to the flickering light, squinting at them as if he expected the ink to suddenly rearrange itself into a confession of forgery. One was a standard state driver's license; the other was a heavy-stock card bearing the seal of the State Bar Association.
"Pendelton, huh?" Miller muttered, his tone dripping with manufactured skepticism. "Never heard of you. We get a lot of fakes coming through here. We don't need hotshot city lawyers coming down here stirring up trouble for our boys."
"My credentials are entirely in order, Officer," Arthur replied, his voice remaining even, though a chilling edge of absolute authority had crept in. "If you need to verify my standing with the Bar, you are welcome to make a phone call. However, I suggest you do it quickly, as I do not intend to be late for my client's hearing."
Miller's jaw tightened. He didn't like being told what to do, especially by a man he deemed inferior. In a petty, childish display of power, he didn't hand the cards back to Arthur. Instead, he tossed them carelessly back toward the plastic tray on the table. He threw them with just enough force and poor aim that they slid off the edge of the table and fluttered down onto the dirty, boot-scuffed linoleum floor.
"Pick 'em up," Miller ordered, a cruel smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "And step over to the wall. I'm going to need to do a full secondary physical search. Can't be too careful with you people."
Chapter 4: The Line in the Sand
Arthur looked down at his cards on the floor, then slowly brought his gaze back up to meet Miller's eyes. He did not bend down. He did not flinch. The air between the two men seemed to crackle with sudden, static electricity.
"My credentials have been provided and verified, Officer," Arthur said, his voice carrying clearly now, cutting through the low hum of the lobby. "I have placed my belongings on the belt and I am prepared to walk through the magnetometer. Under the Fourth Amendment of the United States Constitution, you have absolutely no reasonable suspicion, nor probable cause, to subject me to a secondary physical search."
Miller’s face flushed a deep, angry crimson. The pockmarks on his cheeks stood out starkly against the red skin. He was not used to being spoken to with such quiet, unyielding defiance. When he told people in Oak Creek to jump, they asked how high. When he told them to submit to a search, they spread their arms.
"I am the law in this courthouse," Miller sneered, taking another step forward, trying to use his physical bulk to overwhelm the older, leaner man. "You are in my house now, lawyer. You don't tell me what the law is. You do what I say, when I say it."
"You are a security officer in a public building," Arthur corrected him, his tone sharp and precise as a scalpel. "You enforce the rules of entry. You do not invent them to satisfy your personal prejudices. Now, I have a client waiting, and I will be proceeding to Courtroom B."