The neighborhood was waking.
Adams turned toward Nadia.
“You got any paperwork proving you own this place?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Inside.”
He laughed once.
“There’s always something inside.”
Nadia stared.
“What does that mean?”
“You people always say the proof is somewhere else.”
The words hung there.
Nadia’s expression changed.
Adams realized it too late.
He tried to adjust.
“I mean people I stop for trespassing.”
“People you stop.”
“Yes.”
“Not people like me.”
“I didn't say that.”
“No.”
Nadia nodded.
“You didn't.”
She looked toward the body camera.
He saw her.
“Quit staring at my camera.”
“I’m making sure it’s recording.”
“It is.”
“Good.”
Adams stepped closer.
“I need you to come onto the sidewalk.”
Nadia’s voice cooled.
“No.”
His face hardened.
“What?”
“I’m not leaving my property because a stranger called you and said I don't belong here.”
“You’re refusing a lawful order.”
“What law requires a homeowner to step off her own lawn because an officer has not yet verified ownership?”
Adams moved closer.
Nadia stayed where she was.
The distance dropped to six feet.
Then five.
He was trying to use proximity.
She understood.
Adams asked:
“Do you want to go to jail?”
“No.”
“Then cooperate.”
“I am cooperating.”
“You are arguing.”
“Those are not the same thing.”
“Turn around.”
Nadia went still.
“What?”
“Turn around.”
“For what?”
“Until I confirm your identity.”
“No.”
Several neighbors audibly reacted.
Adams looked toward them.
Then Nadia.
“You don't get to refuse.”
“I do if you don't have grounds to arrest me.”
“You think I don't?”
“I’m asking you to state them.”
His jaw flexed.
“Possible burglary.”
Nadia glanced at the open front door.
“No broken door.”
“Could've used a stolen key.”
“No alarm.”
“You could've disabled it.”
“My car is in the garage.”
“Could be stolen.”
Nadia looked directly at him.
“You are constructing possibilities after the facts fail to support your assumption.”
Adams stared.
The phrasing sounded too precise.
Professional.
He noticed.
“You a lawyer?”
“No.”
“Judge?”
“No.”
“Then stop talking like one.”
Nadia nearly laughed again.
Instead:
“I don't need a law degree to ask why you’re trying to handcuff me on my own lawn.”
Adams pulled his cuffs from his belt.
Several neighbors gasped.
Nadia’s pulse accelerated.
There it was.
A point where absurdity becomes dangerous.
She lowered her hands slowly.
“Officer Adams.”
“Turn around.”
“I am not resisting you.”