The driver unfastened his seat belt.
He opened the door slowly.
When he stood, the Sergeant's posture changed.
The driver was taller than expected.
Nearly six feet three.
Strong without appearing bulky.
He wore a charcoal blazer over a pale dress shirt, dark trousers, polished shoes, and a simple watch.
Nothing about his clothing was flashy.
Nothing about him suggested panic.
The Sergeant pointed toward the hood.
"Hands on the car."
The driver remained still.
"You still haven't told me why I was stopped."
The Sergeant stepped closer.
"Hands on the car."
The driver looked at him for a long second.
Then he placed both hands against the hood.
The Sergeant patted him down.
The search was quick at first.
Then unnecessarily forceful.
When the Sergeant reached the driver's waistband, he shoved him forward.
The driver's palms slid across the hood.
He turned his head.
"There's no need for that."
The Sergeant pressed him harder.
"Stop moving."
"I am not moving."
"Then stop talking."
A customer outside the store looked over.
Another person lifted a phone.
The driver noticed but said nothing.
The Sergeant stepped back.
"Where are you coming from?"
"Downtown."
"What was the meeting?"
The driver looked at him.
"I already answered that."
"No, you didn't."
"I told you it was a meeting."
"What kind?"
The driver slowly removed his hands from the hood and turned.
The Sergeant immediately raised one hand.
"I didn't tell you to turn around."
The driver froze.
His voice remained calm.
"I would like your supervisor."
The Sergeant laughed.
"You've got one."
"I would like your supervisor."
"I'm the supervisor."
"Then I would like the watch commander."
The Sergeant stared at him.
"For what?"
"So this interaction can be documented properly."
The Sergeant stepped closer.
His body camera was attached to his vest.
The small status light was dark.
The driver noticed.
"So that's what this is?"
The Sergeant said.
"What is?"
"You think you know procedure."
The driver glanced toward the camera.
"I know enough to recognize that your body camera does not appear to be recording."
The Sergeant looked down automatically.
That brief movement confirmed it.
The driver's expression changed slightly.
The Sergeant noticed.
"Don't worry about my camera."
"I'm not."
The driver looked back into his eyes.
"You should be."
The Sergeant's face reddened.
A second patrol car entered the parking lot.
A younger officer stepped out.
He was twenty-eight.
White.
Three years on the job.
His body camera was running.
The Sergeant looked toward him.
"Come here."
The younger officer approached.
"What's going on?"
"Noncompliant driver."
The younger officer looked at the Black man.
Then at the car.