Morrison leaned closer.
“You calling me a liar?”
“No, sir.”
Behind his calm expression, Marcus felt his heartbeat accelerate.
The camera beneath his clothing was running.
The microphone was recording.
Still, recordings could not prevent violence.
They could only preserve it.
“I'd like to understand the reason for the stop,” Marcus said.
The second officer moved closer.
“You got something to hide?”
“No.”
Morrison stared at him for a long moment.
Then he said the words Marcus had been expecting.
“Step out of the vehicle.”
The street suddenly felt very quiet.
Marcus knew that whatever happened next could change everything.
The Line
“Am I being detained?” Marcus asked.
Morrison's expression changed.
It was subtle at first.
Then unmistakable.
Anger.
“Step out.”
Marcus swallowed.
“I'd like to know the reason.”
“You don't tell me what you want.”
A few cars slowed as they passed.
Marcus could see faces turning toward the scene.
He knew the operation could end with a single sentence.
I'm a federal agent.
He could say it.
He could end the danger.
But he remembered the files Keller had shown him.
People who had been stopped.
People who had asked questions.
People who had no badge waiting to protect them.
“I am not resisting,” Marcus said. “But I would like to speak with a supervisor.”
Morrison laughed.
It was a cold sound.
“You think you're special?”
“No.”
“You think that suit makes you better than everybody else?”
Marcus said nothing.
The silence made Morrison angrier.
He called for backup.
Within minutes, another patrol car arrived.
Then another.
The officers gathered around Marcus's vehicle as if he were a dangerous criminal.
“Open the door,” Harris ordered.
Marcus looked forward.
“I am willing to cooperate with a lawful order.”
Morrison stepped toward the window.
“Last chance.”
Marcus thought of Keller.
Let them show us.
The officer raised his fist.
The first blow cracked the glass.
The second spread fractures across the window.
On the third strike, the glass exploded.
And the line between an investigation and survival disappeared.
The Man on the Pavement
Marcus barely remembered hitting the ground.
There was a hand on his collar.
A blow against the doorframe.
Then asphalt.
“Stop resisting!”
Marcus felt his arm pulled behind him.
“I am not resisting,” he managed.
A knee drove into his back.
His face pressed against the road.
Around him, officers shouted explanations to one another, building a story while the truth was still happening beneath their boots.
“He was aggressive.”
“He wouldn't comply.”
“He was reaching around.”
None of it was true.
Marcus heard a car door close.
A new voice spoke.
“What do we have?”
Captain Raymond Reeves had arrived.
Morrison answered immediately.
“Sovereign citizen. Refused lawful commands. Aggressive.”