The general didn't wait for an answer.
His eyes had already identified Norman, the only officer in the room who looked like he was about to vomit, and dismissed him in the same glance.
He turned his attention back to Taylor, his voice dropping to something almost paternal.
"Patrick, I need you to tell me exactly what happened."
Taylor's posture shifted subtly, his shoulders squaring.
Even battered and disheveled, he snapped into a bearing that made every cop in the room look like they were playing dress-up.
"Sir, I was returning from the briefing at Bragg when I was pulled over on Highway 29 at approximately 2300 hours. The officer cited a broken taillight as probable cause, although the vehicle had passed inspection 14 days prior."
"Did you identify yourself?"
"I informed him I was a federal asset and requested he contact his supervisor. He refused. I warned him multiple times that I was not at liberty to answer his questions or consent to a search due to the classified nature of my assignment. He interpreted this as obstruction."
The general's jaw tightened.
"And the physical altercation?"
"I used passive resistance only, sir. I did not strike back or attempt to escape. He deployed his taser and effected the arrest."
Taylor's voice remained flat.
Professional.
But Norman could hear the edge beneath it.
The restraint it was taking not to say what he really thought.
"The equipment?"
"Briefcase is intact. The vehicle sustained damage. Broken window. Possible damage to the rear security system. I won't know the extent until I can run diagnostics."
The general nodded, then turned to one of the suited men.
"Agent Carver, I want a full report on my desk by 0600. Include everything. Dashcam footage, booking records, witness statements, everything."
The agent stepped forward, and Norman finally got a good look at him.
Mid-40s.
Gray suit.
The kind of face that had seen too much and forgotten how to be surprised by human stupidity.
He pulled a leather credentials case from his pocket and flipped it open.
"Special Agent Marcus Carver, FBI. I'm here as part of a joint DoD and DOJ task force investigating potential security breaches involving classified military personnel."
He walked directly to Norman, who was still frozen by the window.
And the room seemed to contract around them.
"Officer Joel Norman, you are being detained for questioning regarding potential violations of federal law, including but not limited to interference with a federal officer in the performance of their duties, unlawful detention of a military asset, destruction of government property, and possible compromise of classified national security operations."
Norman's mouth opened, but no sound came out.
His brain had stopped processing words.
Could only focus on the phrase federal law and the way everyone was looking at him like he was radioactive.
"You have the right to remain silent," Carver continued, his voice carrying the bored efficiency of someone who'd done this a thousand times. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights as I've explained them to you?"
"I..."
Norman's voice cracked.
"I was just doing my job."
"That wasn't the question. Do you understand your rights?"
Norman nodded, then realized that wasn't enough.
"Yes."
"Good."
Carver produced a pair of handcuffs.
Federal ones.
Heavier than the ones Norman carried.
And Norman felt his soul leave his body.
"Turn around and put your hands behind your back."
"Wait. You're arresting me?"
The words came out as a whimper.
"I'm detaining you pending investigation. There's a difference, but in your case, I wouldn't count on it staying that way."
Carver's hands were professional.
Efficient.
As he cuffed Norman with the same mechanical precision Norman had used on Taylor hours earlier.
The irony was not lost on anyone in the room.
Captain Voss stepped forward, his face ashen.