No serious injury.
Bruising.
Possible strain.
He declined transport.
The Ferrari was no longer safe to drive because the hanging mirror and damaged door needed inspection.
A flatbed arrived.
The driver looked devastated on his behalf.
“Man.”
The Black man smiled tiredly.
“It's a car.”
The tow operator stared at him.
“A Ferrari.”
“Still a car.”
That sounded philosophical.
It was not.
He was angry enough that his hands shook when nobody was looking.
The calm had cost something.
He watched the car roll onto the flatbed.
The broken mirror dragged slightly before being secured.
Something inside him tightened.
Not because of money.
Insurance would repair it.
He could afford repair even without insurance.
The damage mattered because it had been deliberate.
Someone in authority had wanted him to understand that his property—and by extension his objections—could be damaged without consequence.
Then called it an accident.
That was the part he could not stop replaying.
The strike.
The immediate lie.
It was an accident.
Almost rehearsed.
At home that evening, he watched the footage once.
Only once.
His attorney sat beside him.
The first camera angle came from the windshield.
The officer moving toward the mirror.
Flashlight lifting.
Strike.
Second angle from the side camera.
Clearer.
No accidental contact.
No stumble.
No obstruction.
The officer looked toward the Black man before swinging.
The attorney paused.
“That's enough.”
The man stared at the frozen image.
The flashlight halfway down.
“No.”
“Don't watch it again tonight.”
“I need to know what happened.”
“You know.”
The man looked at him.
His attorney was also an old friend.
They had met before either could afford a suit that fit properly.
The friend continued:
“You're not reviewing evidence.”
“You're punishing yourself.”
The Black man looked away.
He hated when friends were correct in expensive suits.
The attorney closed the laptop.
“We preserve everything.”
“No posting.”
“No interviews.”
“No threats.”
“No calls to the chief.”
The Black man smiled faintly.
“I wasn't going to.”
“I know.”
“Then why say it?”
“Because you're angry.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
The attorney leaned back.
“Anger is information.”
“Not strategy.”
The man laughed once.
“That yours?”
“No.”
“Stole it from a therapist.”
The police department issued a statement before midnight.
An officer had been placed on administrative leave pending review of a traffic stop involving alleged property damage and use of force.
No names.
No conclusions.
The Black man preferred that.
Then somebody leaked the dash-camera still.