Usually through a private employee entrance.
Usually carrying a laptop bag.
Usually wearing a blazer.
Today he entered through the detainee doorway.
Handcuffed.
Injured.
And escorted by a man who believed he had complete control over him.
Keller pulled him through the security corridor.
“Keep moving.”
Daniel walked carefully.
The cuffs pulled against his swollen wrists.
At the processing counter, a heavyset officer looked up from his computer.
Martin Briggs.
The man whose signature appeared on multiple questionable property inventories.
Keller smiled.
“Got one for you.”
Briggs examined Daniel.
“What'd he do?”
“Traffic stop. Became uncooperative. Possible fake credentials. Wouldn't answer questions.”
Daniel looked up.
“That isn't accurate.”
Briggs laughed.
“Wonderful. Another lawyer.”
Keller placed the arrest paperwork on the counter.
“Search him properly. He's acting like somebody important.”
Briggs glanced at the forms.
Then at Daniel.
“Name?”
“Daniel Carter.”
“Date of birth?”
Daniel answered.
“Address?”
He provided it.
Briggs typed slowly.
Then frowned.
The computer returned an administrative restriction.
Not a full alert.
Not a warning revealing Daniel's assignment.
Only a message directing staff to contact a designated supervisor before making certain changes to the record.
Briggs clicked past it.
Daniel noticed.
“Officer, what did that screen say?”
Briggs looked up.
“None of your business.”
“It appears there's a restriction on my record.”
Briggs scoffed.
“Everybody thinks they're special.”
He continued typing.
Daniel drew a slow breath.
“May I speak with the processing supervisor?”
“No.”
“I need medical attention for my hands.”
“After we're finished.”
“I've been injured since the stop.”
Briggs leaned forward.
“You think coming in here with a few scratches gets you special treatment?”
Daniel looked at him.
“No. I expect the normal procedures.”
Briggs laughed.
“Then you'll get them when I'm good and ready.”
Keller leaned against a nearby desk.
He seemed amused.
The younger Black officer from the traffic stop entered the processing area a minute later.
His name was Marcus Ellis.
He had been with Riverside Police for six years.
He was not part of the corruption investigation.
He had no idea who Daniel really was.
But he knew the roadside stop had gone wrong.
He had seen Keller tighten the handcuffs unnecessarily.
He had seen Daniel request an adjustment.
And he had seen Keller ignore him.
Now Ellis stood near the counter, watching Briggs.
“His wrists should be checked,” he said.
Briggs waved him off.
“We'll get to it.”
Ellis looked at Daniel.
“You need an ambulance?”
Daniel answered calmly.
“I need someone to document the injuries and check my hands.”
Ellis nodded.