The sergeant pulled one arm behind his back.
The Black driver spoke through clenched teeth.
"Sergeant, loosen your grip."
"Stop resisting."
"I am not resisting."
The younger officer moved closer.
"Sergeant, his arm is already behind him."
"Grab the other one."
The younger officer froze.
The sergeant shouted.
"I said grab his other arm."
The younger officer looked at the Black driver.
Then at the sergeant.
Slowly, reluctantly, he reached for the driver's free wrist.
The Black driver gave him a calm look.
"Do what you need to do."
The younger officer's face tightened.
The words somehow made it worse.
He gently guided the driver's other hand behind his back.
The sergeant snapped the handcuffs closed.
Metal clicked around both wrists.
The crowd grew louder.
Three more people began recording.
One man shouted from across the sidewalk.
"What's he arrested for?"
The sergeant ignored him.
The Black driver stood upright.
Handcuffed.
Decorated.
Composed.
The sight was so strange that even passing cars began slowing.
The younger officer looked toward the shoulder insignia again.
There were four stars.
He knew enough to understand what four stars meant.
He leaned toward the sergeant.
"Can I speak with you?"
"Not now."
"Sergeant, I really think we should verify who he is."
The sergeant scoffed.
"You scared of some medals?"
"No."
"Then act like it."
The younger officer lowered his voice.
"Those stars aren't random."
The sergeant glanced at them.
"You an expert now?"
"No, but."
"But nothing."
The Black driver looked toward the patrol car.
"Run my full identification."
The sergeant turned.
"What?"
"You have my license. Run the full identification."
"I already did."
"No, you ran the traffic database."
The sergeant stared.
The Black driver continued.
"Run the secure federal cross-reference attached to my name."
For the first time, the sergeant stopped moving.
The younger officer looked at him.
The crowd went quieter.
The sergeant recovered quickly.
"You're giving me instructions again."
"I'm giving you an opportunity."
"An opportunity for what?"
The Black driver looked directly at him.
"To stop."
The sergeant smiled.
It was not a comfortable smile.
He stepped closer until their faces were inches apart.
"Listen to me. Whatever little story you've built around yourself ends right here."
The Black driver did not blink.
"You have no idea what story you're standing in."
The sergeant's smile disappeared.
He grabbed the driver's upper arm and shoved him toward the sedan.
The Black driver's shoulder hit the roof.
The crowd gasped.
The younger officer stepped forward.
"Sergeant!"