Clean cabin.
Briefcase on rear seat.
Suit jacket expensive but understated.
The officer asked:
“What do you do?”
The Black man looked at him.
“Is that related to the stop?”
The officer’s jaw shifted.
“I ask the questions.”
“That doesn’t answer mine.”
The officer leaned closer.
The Black man smelled coffee and mint.
“Step out.”
“Why?”
“Step out.”
The Black man looked toward the body camera.
Still off.
“Is your camera recording?”
The officer immediately stepped back.
“What?”
“Your body camera.”
“I heard you.”
“Is it recording?”
The officer’s face hardened.
“Get out of the vehicle.”
The Black man opened the door slowly.
He stepped onto the sidewalk.
He was nearly the officer’s height.
That seemed to change the officer’s energy.
Inside the car, seated, the Black man had been physically lower.
Now they stood eye to eye.
The officer pointed toward the curb.
“Stand there.”
The Black man moved.
“What is the reason for the stop?”
The officer held the license between two fingers.
“You crossed the center line.”
“No.”
“You telling me what I saw?”
“I’m telling you what I did.”
The officer stepped closer.
“Careful.”
“With what?”
The Black man’s tone remained calm.
That calm was beginning to sound like defiance to the officer.
The officer pointed toward his chest.
“Your attitude.”
The Black man looked at the finger.
Then at him.
“My attitude isn’t a traffic violation.”
The officer’s nostrils flared.
A pedestrian slowed.
Then another.
Jefferson Avenue was busy enough that any loud roadside interaction drew attention.
The officer noticed people watching.
He lowered his voice.
“You think because you’re dressed nice, you get to talk however you want?”
The Black man tilted his head.
“What does my clothing have to do with anything?”
The officer’s face changed.
Nothing good could come from answering that.
So he did not.
Instead he said:
“Turn around.”
“For what?”
“Pat-down.”
“Basis?”
“Officer safety.”
The Black man looked around.
He had not threatened.
Reached unexpectedly.
Raised his voice.
Moved toward the officer.
Nothing.
He said:
“No.”
The officer stared.
“What did you say?”
“I said no.”
“I’m ordering you.”
“And I’m asking for the lawful basis.”
The officer stepped close enough that their shoes nearly touched.
The Black man could feel his breath.
“You one of those guys?”
“What guys?”
“You know exactly.”
“No.”
The officer lowered his voice further.
“Guys who watch videos online and think they know police work.”
The Black man almost smiled.
That would have been a mistake.
He did not.
Instead:
“I know enough to ask why I’m being searched.”
The officer suddenly grabbed the front of his suit jacket.
A woman passing behind them stopped.
The Black man looked down at the officer’s fist gripping expensive gray fabric.
Then slowly raised his hand.
Not toward the officer’s body.
Toward the wrist holding his jacket.
He gently pushed it down.
“Take your hand off me.”