“You giving me advice now?”
“Yes.”
The crowd had grown to nearly twenty.
More phones.
More silence.
The deputy unscrewed the water bottle cap.
The older man watched.
“What are you doing?”
The deputy smiled.
“Cooling things down.”
Then he poured the water over the older man’s head.
Not all at once.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Clear water struck gray hair, ran across the older man’s forehead, down his face, over the collar of his formal suit, across ribbons and polished buttons, darkening the fabric in spreading patches.
Someone in the crowd gasped.
The younger courthouse officer stepped forward again.
“Hey.”
The deputy raised one hand.
“Back up.”
The older man did not move.
He did not wipe his face.
He did not duck.
He simply looked up through the water.
That expression unsettled the deputy more than anger would have.
Not humiliation.
Not submission.
Assessment.
The older man was studying him.
The deputy emptied the bottle.
Then tossed it aside.
“Maybe that’ll cool you down enough to remember who has authority here.”
Water continued dripping from the older man’s chin.
He looked toward the street.
Not at the crowd.
Past it.
Toward the intersection.
Then his eyes returned to the deputy.
“You still think those vehicles are coming for me.”
The deputy frowned.
“What vehicles?”
The older man said nothing.
A low engine note rose somewhere beyond the courthouse block.
One SUV appeared at the intersection.
Black.
Then another behind it.
Then another.
Five in total.
All identical.
No sirens.
No emergency lights.
Dark windows.
Government plates.
They turned together.
The crowd shifted.
The deputy looked.
His expression changed from irritation to satisfaction.
He gave the older man a smug smile.
“Looks like somebody finally came to collect you.”
The Black man lowered his eyes briefly.
Not in surrender.
Almost as though he regretted what the deputy was about to learn.
The SUVs pulled toward the curb.
One behind another.
Doors opened.
Men and women in dark suits stepped out.
Two carried sealed document cases.
One wore a state investigator’s badge on a lanyard.
Another was accompanied by an attorney holding a thick red folder.
The last SUV carried two officials from internal affairs.
The deputy stared.
His confidence remained for another few seconds.
Then the lead investigator walked past the older Black man.
Straight toward him.
The deputy blinked.
“Can I help you?”
The investigator stopped.
White.
Early fifties.
Gray at the temples.
Expression neutral.
“Deputy.”
“Yes?”
The investigator opened the red folder.
The deputy looked at it.
Then toward the courthouse.
Then toward the Black man.
“What is this?”
The investigator answered quietly.
“We were already coming for you.”
The crowd went completely still.
The deputy laughed once.