“Ryan, stop.”
Holt twisted the nozzle.
The pressure exploded.
Naomi saw the decision in his eyes.
“Don't.”
The stream hit her face.
Cold water slammed into her like a physical blow.
She stumbled backward.
The spray followed.
It soaked her blouse.
Tore her scarf loose.
Filled her ears.
Made it impossible to breathe.
Her foot slipped in the mud.
She fell.
The water kept coming.
Holt stood over her with both hands around the hose.
“Maybe this teaches you manners!”
Naomi tried to shield her face.
She coughed.
Choked.
Raised one arm.
The stream followed.
“Stop!” Evelyn screamed. “She can't breathe!”
Daniel grabbed Holt's arm.
“Stop it!”
Holt shoved him away.
Ten seconds.
Twenty.
Thirty.
“She's drowning!” the teenager shouted.
At last, after nearly forty-five seconds, Holt released the trigger.
Silence fell.
Naomi remained on the grass, coughing violently.
Her hair hung over her face.
Her clothes were soaked.
Her roses were crushed beneath her.
Her legal folder had fallen open in the water, its pages floating across the lawn.
Holt tossed the hose aside.
“Now,” he said, breathing heavily, “maybe you're ready to cooperate.”
Naomi slowly raised her head.
Then she stood.
Her knees trembled.
But she stood.
Her voice was quiet.
“Officer Holt, you just ended your career.”
He laughed.
“Still making threats?”
“No.”
She reached into her wet back pocket.
“I am creating the first sentence of the official record.”
The Seal
Naomi pulled out a leather credential case.
The gold seal caught the morning sun.
Holt's smile vanished.
She opened it.
United States Courts.
Her photograph.
Her name.
Honorable Naomi Elise Greer.
United States Circuit Judge.
United States Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit.
Daniel stared.
Holt went pale.
“That's fake,” he whispered.
Naomi looked at Daniel.
“Officer Price, verify it.”
His phone was already in his hand.
Seconds later, the official court website appeared on his screen.
Naomi's photograph.
Same face.
Same name.
Same woman standing drenched on her own lawn.
Daniel swallowed.
“Oh God.”
He looked at Holt.
“She’s real.”
The livestream viewer count passed eight thousand.
Comments flooded the screen.
He sprayed a federal judge.
She told him who she was.
Career over.
Evelyn rushed toward Naomi with a towel.
“Oh, honey.”
Naomi accepted it.
But she did not sit down.
She looked at Holt.
“If I were not a judge,” she asked, “would you still be smiling?”
Holt swallowed.
“Your Honor, I didn't know.”
“That is not an answer.”
“I mean—I didn't know who you were.”
“And if I were a nurse?”
Silence.
“A teacher? A clerk? A housekeeper?”
Holt said nothing.
“If I were simply a woman watering flowers in front of her own home, what then?”
Daniel looked at the ground.
Naomi nodded.
“That silence will also be part of the record.”
Then she took out her phone.
The Chief
“Chief Ramirez.”
The woman answered on the second ring.
“Judge Greer?”
“Chief, I need you at my residence immediately. 422 Ashbury Lane.”
The chief's voice changed.
“Are you safe?”
“No.”
Naomi looked at Holt.
“One of your officers just assaulted me with my own garden hose after accusing me of trespassing on my property.”
There was silence.
Then:
“Which officer?”
“Ryan Holt. Badge 4827.”