Bell nodded.
Alana looked toward Reeves.
“Officer.”
He met her eyes reluctantly.
“Did you receive a report that my vehicle was stolen?”
His mouth opened.
Closed.
“I had reason to believe—”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Silence.
Alana’s courtroom voice had arrived.
Not loud.
Not aggressive.
Precise.
“Did dispatch send you here regarding my vehicle?”
“No.”
“Did a citizen identify me as attempting to steal a vehicle?”
“No.”
“Did Walmart security call you?”
“No.”
“Did your license plate system return my vehicle as stolen?”
Reeves looked toward Bell.
Bell did not rescue him.
“No.”
Alana nodded slowly.
“Then when you told me the vehicle had been flagged, that statement was false.”
Reeves stiffened.
“I believed—”
“Officer Reeves.”
He stopped.
“You detained me.”
Silence.
“You placed me in handcuffs.”
More silence.
“You placed me inside a police vehicle.”
His face reddened.
“Based on what?”
Reeves finally said, “Your behavior was suspicious.”
A woman in the crowd laughed in disbelief.
Alana did not.
“What behavior?”
“You were lingering near the vehicle.”
“I was loading groceries.”
“You appeared nervous.”
“I became concerned after you blocked my vehicle and accused me of stealing it.”
“You were argumentative.”
“I asked why I was being detained.”
Reeves’s voice hardened again.
“You kept challenging instructions.”
Alana looked at him.
“You mean I asked questions.”
No answer.
“Those are different things.”
The parking lot was completely quiet around them.
Alana looked at Sergeant Bell.
“I want the incident number.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I want the names and badge numbers of every officer involved.”
“Of course.”
“I want confirmation that all body-camera footage has been preserved.”
Bell nodded.
“I’ll personally flag it.”
“I also want the CAD logs, dispatch audio, plate-query history and vehicle camera footage preserved.”
Reeves stared.
Now he fully understood.
She was not merely a judge.
She knew exactly which records could reveal what had happened.
Bell said, “Understood.”
Alana picked up her handbag.
Her hands trembled.
She hated that they trembled.
She opened the driver’s door.
Before getting inside, a woman approached.
She was perhaps sixty, holding a reusable grocery bag.
“Judge?”
Alana turned.
“I’m sorry that happened to you.”
Alana looked at her.