“Slowly.”
Isaiah stopped.
He could feel the tension rising for no obvious reason.
“My name is Isaiah Whitaker.”
Briggs stared at him.
“Okay.”
“I can show you my identification.”
“Do that.”
Isaiah slowly reached for his wallet.
Briggs's hand moved toward his belt.
Isaiah noticed.
He stopped moving.
“Officer, I'm going to take my wallet out.”
“Go ahead.”
Isaiah produced his identification.
Briggs looked at it.
His eyes narrowed.
Then he looked at Isaiah.
“You expect me to believe this?”
Isaiah frowned.
“Believe what?”
“That you're the mayor.”
Isaiah looked at the officer for several seconds.
“Yes.”
Briggs laughed.
“You think that's funny?”
“No.”
“Then stop playing games.”
“I am not playing games.”
Isaiah held out the identification.
Briggs didn't take it.
Instead, he stepped closer.
“You know how many people lie about who they are?”
“I imagine quite a few.”
“Then you understand why I don't care what you say.”
Isaiah slowly lowered his hand.
“Officer Briggs, you can verify my identity through dispatch.”
Briggs stared at him.
“Turn around.”
Isaiah's expression hardened.
“For what?”
“I said turn around.”
“There is no reason to arrest me.”
“Did I say arrest?”
“No.”
“Then turn around.”
Isaiah looked toward the houses.
A curtain moved in one of the windows.
He understood the situation immediately.
Whatever happened next, Briggs would control the report.
So Isaiah turned around.
“I'm cooperating,” he said.
“Hands behind your back.”
Isaiah complied.
But Briggs did not immediately handcuff him.
Instead, he searched his pockets.
His fingers found Isaiah's phone.
“You're recording?”
“No.”
“You were taking pictures.”
“Of city property.”
Briggs pulled the phone from his pocket.
“Why?”
“Because residents reported a safety problem.”
“You planning to post this online?”
“No.”
“Then why photograph it?”
Isaiah turned his head slightly.
“Because I'm the mayor.”
Briggs's hand tightened around his wrist.
“Stop saying that.”
“It's true.”
Briggs suddenly twisted his arm.
Pain shot through Isaiah's shoulder.
He inhaled sharply.
“Officer.”
“Stop resisting.”
“I'm not resisting.”
Briggs tightened his grip.
Isaiah felt the metal of the handcuffs close around his wrists.
For several seconds, neither man spoke.
Then Isaiah heard a woman's voice from across the street.
“That's Mayor Whitaker!”
Briggs looked over.
An elderly woman stood on her porch.
She recognized Isaiah immediately.
Briggs turned back.
“Get inside,” he told her.
“That's the mayor!”
“I said get inside.”
Isaiah closed his eyes briefly.
He had spent his entire political career talking about moments exactly like this.
Moments when assumptions became actions.
Moments when authority stopped listening.
Moments when a person became a category instead of a human being.
But he never expected to become the subject of one himself.
Briggs pushed him toward the cruiser.
Isaiah stumbled.
“Officer, you're making a serious mistake.”
Briggs opened the rear door.
“Get in.”
Isaiah looked directly into his eyes.
“Before you do this, verify my identity.”
Briggs ignored him.
The door slammed.
And the cruiser drove away.
Neither man yet understood what the next hour would do to Brookhaven.
Inside the cruiser, Nolan Briggs felt confident.
He believed he had handled the situation correctly.
That belief was more dangerous than anger.
The man in the back seat was silent.
Briggs glanced at him through the mirror.
Gray hoodie.
Running shoes.
No expensive watch.
No bodyguard.
No driver.
No visible signs of political power.
To Briggs, those details proved his assumption.
The mayor would not be wandering around an empty park before seven in the morning.
At least, that was what he told himself.
His radio crackled.
“Seven-Adam, status?”
Briggs pressed the microphone.
“Transporting one male for suspected property interference.”
“Identity?”
Briggs hesitated.
The man behind him spoke.
“Isaiah Whitaker.”
Briggs ignored him.
“Identity not confirmed.”
There was a pause.
“Copy.”
Isaiah leaned back.
“Officer Briggs.”
“What?”
“You're making the situation worse.”
Briggs laughed.
“You don't get to lecture me.”
“I am not lecturing you.”
“Then be quiet.”
Isaiah looked out the window.