“You really want to argue law with me?”
Vanessa almost laughed.
The irony was enormous.
She resisted it.
“Yes.”
Derek pulled her arm behind her slightly.
The folder pressed against her ribs.
Vanessa felt pain in her shoulder.
“Officer.”
“Stop resisting.”
“I am standing still.”
“You’re pulling away.”
“I am not.”
He shifted closer.
A courthouse employee spoke.
“Officer Morrow.”
Derek turned his head.
The young clerk.
She stood several yards away.
“Maybe call administration.”
Derek snapped:
“Stay out of it.”
The clerk flinched.
Vanessa looked at her.
“It's okay.”
Derek turned back.
“Stop talking to people.”
Vanessa’s eyes narrowed.
“You do not control who I speak to.”
That sentence did it.
His face changed.
He grabbed her upper arm with his other hand and forced her toward the wall.
The legal folder nearly slipped.
Vanessa caught it against her chest.
Her shoulder struck marble.
Not hard enough to injure seriously.
Hard enough to make several witnesses shout.
Derek said:
“Now you're going to listen.”
Vanessa looked directly at him.
“Take your hands off me.”
His face was inches away.
“You think because you're dressed nice, you get to walk wherever you want?”
Vanessa's breathing slowed.
That sentence mattered.
Not because of race alone.
Not because of class.
Because Derek had already rewritten her behavior into entitlement.
She said:
“You have my identification.”
“I have something that says your name.”
“It is a federal courthouse credential.”
“You don't decide what counts.”
Vanessa's mouth tightened.
“I am going to say this once.”
Derek smirked.
“You've said plenty.”
“Take your hands off me before you make a mistake nobody in this building can undo for you.”
He stared.
Then laughed.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The threat.”
Vanessa closed her eyes briefly.
Of course.
He needed a threat.
So he found one.
She opened them.
“It was advice.”
Derek's jaw flexed.
“Turn around.”
“No.”
His hand moved.
Fast.
Open palm.
The slap struck the side of Vanessa's face.
For one second, the entire corridor disappeared behind a burst of white sound.
The folder slipped downward.
She caught it.
Her pearl earring twisted painfully.
Somebody shouted.
Someone else said:
“Oh my God.”
Vanessa did not fall.
Derek grabbed her shoulder and shoved her harder into the marble.
Her cheek nearly struck the wall.
This time pain shot down her arm.
He growled:
“Now you’ll learn who has authority here.”
Vanessa heard the words.
Stored them.
Like evidence.
She turned her head slowly.
Her eyes found his.
There was no fear in them now.
Only fury.
The kind that had taken fifty-two years to discipline.
She said quietly:
“You just assaulted me in a federal courthouse while wearing a camera.”
Something flickered in Derek's face.
Then pride covered it.
“You assaulted an officer first.”
The clerk yelled:
“She never touched you!”
Derek turned.
“Back up!”
Several employees had phones out now.
Good.
Vanessa hated needing that thought.
But good.