But Miller was a survivor. He had talked his way out of excessive force complaints before. He had bullied internal county investigators into dropping files. His mind began to frantically search for a way out.
There were no body cameras. The county couldn't afford them.
The cruiser’s dashcam was notoriously faulty, and Miller made a habit of unplugging the power cable behind the console whenever he planned to shake someone down. He had checked it earlier; the lens was dead.
It was just his word, Davis’s word, and the old man’s.
Miller’s eyes darted to the black cell phone still in Arthur’s hand. The phone call. The radio lockout. That was the only real evidence. If he could control the narrative, if he could confiscate that phone and smash it, he could claim the old man was impersonating an officer.
“You have a fake badge,” Miller said, his voice regaining some of its hard edge, though it trembled slightly. “You’re impersonating a federal agent. That’s a felony.”
Arthur let out a quiet sigh. “We don’t need to do this, Deputy. You’re only digging the hole deeper.”
“Davis!” Miller shouted, turning to his rookie. “This suspect is armed with forged federal identification. He just threatened me. Get on the radio—use your shoulder mic, see if the local channel is still up—and call for backup. Code Three. Tell them we have a 10-31 in progress.”
Davis didn't move. He stared at Miller, then looked at the bulge in Miller’s left shirt pocket where the watch was hidden.
“Miller…” Davis started, his voice shaking. “I saw you take the watch.”
Miller’s face contorted in absolute fury. He took a threatening step toward his own partner. “You didn't see a damn thing, Davis! He handed it to me as a bribe, and I confiscated it as evidence! Are you going to back up a criminal over your own training officer?”
“I’m not lying on a report,” Davis said, taking a step back, his hand nervously resting near his radio. “The radio said hold position. I’m holding position.”
“You little rat,” Miller spat, his face purple.
He turned back to Arthur. The old man was still watching the exchange with an expression of quiet pity. It was that pity that pushed Miller over the edge. He couldn't stand being looked at like he was small.
Miller lunged forward, no longer caring about protocol. He reached out with both hands, trying to snatch the encrypted black phone from Arthur’s grip.
Arthur didn't fight back physically. He simply shifted his weight onto his good right leg, pivoted sharply, and let Miller’s momentum carry him forward. Miller stumbled in the gravel, grabbing nothing but empty air, falling awkwardly against the side of the classic Mustang.
“Assaulting an officer!” Miller yelled, pushing himself off the car, his hand flying to his taser again.
“I didn't touch you, Deputy,” Arthur said, having stepped three feet away. He lifted the black phone, holding the screen up so Miller could see it.
The screen was glowing with a bright red recording timer. The counter read 04:12.