A paramedic examined her wrist.
Bruising.
No fracture.
Shoulder strain.
He asked if she wanted transport.
“No.”
Her attorney would later say that was stubborn.
Mara would say it was practical.
Both were true.
An Internal Affairs lieutenant asked for her statement.
She agreed.
They sat inside an unmarked SUV parked beneath a maple tree.
The lieutenant activated a recorder.
“Start where you believe the contact began.”
Mara looked through the windshield at Sergeant Collins being photographed beside his patrol vehicle.
“Do you want what happened or what I think happened?”
The lieutenant paused.
“What happened first.”
“Good.”
She liked him slightly more already.
She began.
Dinner reservation.
Driving south.
Patrol car behind her.
No lights for several blocks.
Then stop.
The sergeant approached.
Asked why she was driving slowly.
She explained she was looking for the correct house because she was meeting someone before dinner.
He asked for license.
She gave it.
Registration.
Given.
He returned to his cruiser.
Then came back and asked her to exit.
“Reason?”
“He said my window tint looked illegal.”
“Is it?”
“No.”
“Did he test it?”
“No.”
“What happened next?”
“He asked whether the car belonged to me.”
“Had he already seen registration?”
“Yes.”
“Matching your name?”
“Yes.”
The lieutenant wrote.
“Then?”
“He asked where I worked.”
“What did you say?”
“I asked whether that was relevant.”
The lieutenant looked up.
“And?”
“He said I was being evasive.”
“Then?”
“He asked if there was anything illegal inside the car.”
“I said no.”
“Consent to search?”
“He asked.”
“Your response?”
“I refused.”
“Then?”
“He told me refusal made me look suspicious.”
The lieutenant’s pen stopped.
“Exact words?”
“As close as I remember: ‘People with nothing to hide usually don’t make this difficult.’”
The lieutenant sighed.
Mara continued.
“I told him exercising a right was not evidence.”
“What happened?”
“He became increasingly hostile.”
“Physical contact before the bag?”
“Not until I tried to record.”
She described the phone.
Slap.
Push.
Handbag kicked.
Wrist grabbed.
Then the evidence bag.
The lieutenant asked:
“Why did you ask him to call the number?”
Mara looked toward him.
“Because it looked like property-room evidence.”
“How could you tell?”
“Preprinted department evidence strip.”