Then pride took over.
“People with attitude.”
The Senior Officer nodded slowly.
“Of course.”
That response angered the Sergeant more.
He pulled the baton from his belt.
The movement changed the parking lot instantly.
Several officers straightened.
One civilian stood from the bench.
The Senior Officer did not move.
The Sergeant held the baton diagonally across his body.
“Identification.”
The Senior Officer’s hands remained at his sides.
“My identification is in my back pocket.”
“Get it.”
The Senior Officer moved one hand slowly.
The Sergeant thrust the baton against his chest.
“Slow.”
The tip pressed into the navy polo just below the collarbone.
The Senior Officer stopped.
Looked down.
Then at the Sergeant.
“You told me to get it.”
“I said slow.”
“I was moving slowly.”
“You don’t decide that.”
The Senior Officer stared at the baton touching his chest.
Then lifted his eyes.
“Remove that.”
The Sergeant smiled.
“No.”
The Senior Officer’s voice became quieter.
“Remove the baton from my chest.”
The Sergeant pushed harder.
A younger officer near the steps took one step forward.
Then stopped when another officer caught his arm.
The Senior Officer saw it.
Again.
Interesting.
The Sergeant said:
“You’re not in charge here.”
The Senior Officer looked directly into his eyes.
“Neither are you.”
The Sergeant’s expression changed.
The baton withdrew.
For half a second, the Senior Officer thought the moment might end.
Then the Sergeant swung the baton downward.
Not at the man.
At the hood of the nearest patrol car.
The impact cracked across the parking lot.
Metal rang.
A small dent appeared.
Several people flinched.
The Senior Officer did not.
The Sergeant lifted the baton again.
“Hands where I can see them.”
“They are.”
“On your head.”
The Senior Officer looked at him.
“No.”
The Sergeant stared.
“What?”
“No.”
The Senior Officer’s voice remained calm.
“You have not told me I’m detained.”
“You have not identified a crime.”
“You have no reason to order me into a surrender position in a public parking lot.”
The Sergeant stepped closer.
“Now you’re giving me legal lectures?”
“No.”
“Then hands on your head.”
“No.”
The Sergeant hooked the baton underneath the Senior Officer’s folded arm.
The man had crossed his arms sometime during the argument.
Not threatening.
Just controlled.
The Sergeant violently pulled downward.
The Senior Officer’s arm came free.
He did not resist.
The Sergeant hooked again.
“Hands behind your back.”
The Senior Officer looked toward the officers near the entrance.
Five watching now.
One had a hand over her mouth.
Another looked angry.
None intervened.
The Senior Officer turned back.
“Am I under arrest?”
“You will be.”
“For?”