Braden said, his hand moving to his radio. Dispatch, show me out with a uncooperative male subject at 405 Willow Creek. Requesting backup. Detained for what? Marcus asked calmly.
State the infraction. Obstruction. Braden spat out and failure to identify. There is no failure to identify statute in this state unless I'm already under arrest for a separate offense. Marcus corrected him.
His mind flipping through the pages of the very manual he had updated in 2004. You are making a mistake, son. A very expensive mistake. Look at my hands. Look at my demeanor.
I am not a threat. I am the homeowner. If you take one more step, you are violating the Fourth Amendment and you will lose your qualified immunity. Walk away. Braden's face turned a blotchy red.
He unclipped his taser from his vest. The bright yellow plastic weapon leveled at Marcus's chest. The laser dot danced on Marcus's vintage Marine Corps t-shirt. Get on the ground. Braden screamed.
Get on the ground now. Mrs. Higgins yelled from across the street. He lives there. That's his house. What are you doing?
Marcus didn't get on the ground. At 72, his knees wouldn't take the impact kindly and he refused to degrade himself for a tyrant. He stood still. I am not resisting. Marcus stated clearly for the neighbors' recordings.
I am standing still. I have no weapons. You are pointing a less lethal weapon at an elderly man who is posing no threat. This is excessive force. Last warning.
Braden shouted, his finger trembling on the trigger mechanism. Do what you have to do. Marcus said softly. But make sure your body camera is on because you're going to need it to explain this to the chief. Braden didn't fire the taser, perhaps realizing that tasing a senior citizen in broad daylight with witnesses recording was a step too far, even for him.
Instead, he holstered the taser and lunged forward grabbing Marcus's left wrist. He wrenched the arm behind Marcus's back with unnecessary force. Marcus felt the rotator cuff in his shoulder scream in protest, an old injury from his days on the force, but he didn't cry out. He allowed Braden to manipulate his arm. He felt the cold steel of the handcuffs bite into his wrist.
Stop resisting. Braden yelled for the benefit of the audio recording even though Marcus was standing perfectly still. I am compliant. Marcus narrated, his voice tight with pain but steady. I am not pulling away.
You are applying a pain compliance hold on a compliant subject. That is a policy violation. Department policy 304 section B. Braden slammed the second cuff onto Marcus's right wrist and squeezed it until it ratcheted shut far tighter than necessary. The metal pinched the skin and cut off circulation immediately.
You're under arrest. Braden panted, adrenaline flooding his system. He spun Marcus around and shoved him toward the patrol car. Check the cuffs for spacing. Marcus said.
They are too tight. You are required to check for fit. Shut up. Braden snapped. He marched Marcus across the lawn dragging him past the Mr. Lincoln roses.
Marcus stumbled slightly on the uneven grass but caught his footing. He saw Mrs. Higgins running toward the edge of her lawn. "I'm calling the station, Marcus. " She yelled. "I'm calling them right now.
" Marcus gave her a small reassuring nod. "Tell them to check out the personnel file for badge number 592. " He said loud enough for her to hear. Braden shoved Marcus against the side of the cruiser. He patted him down aggressively, emptying Marcus's pockets.