“Correct.”
Haines nodded.
“So it would be wrong to assume a sheriff was acting unlawfully merely because he wanted to verify ownership?”
Karen considered the question.
“Verification alone isn't necessarily unlawful. The relevant issue is what authority and factual basis the officer had for the detention and the actions he took.”
The attorney smiled slightly.
“That's a fairly technical answer.”
Karen looked at him.
“It's a technical question.”
A few people shifted in their seats.
The judge reminded everyone to remain quiet.
Haines continued.
“You were wearing a full-face helmet when Sheriff Kavalik approached?”
“Yes.”
“He couldn't immediately see your face?”
“Not clearly until I raised the visor.”
“And you had your hands on the motorcycle?”
“Yes.”
“Isn't it possible he was concerned about officer safety?”
Karen paused.
“An officer can have legitimate safety concerns. But I kept my hands visible, explained my movements, and complied with instructions. He still shoved me and ordered me restrained without giving me an identifiable reason.”
Haines looked toward his notes.
“Did you become frustrated?”
“Yes.”
“Angry?”
“Yes.”
The lawyer seemed surprised by the answer.
Karen continued.
“Being angry doesn't mean I resisted.”
For a moment, Haines looked toward the jury.
Then he asked whether she believed the sheriff recognized her race when she removed the helmet.
Karen answered carefully.
“I can't testify to what was in his mind. I can testify to what he said and did.”
The attorney referred to the sheriff's question about whether someone like her could own an expensive motorcycle.
Karen confirmed the wording as she remembered it.
Then Haines asked whether she had any proof the remark was motivated by race rather than suspicion concerning the vehicle.
Karen took a breath.
“The jury can evaluate the statement alongside the other evidence. I won't claim certainty about thoughts I couldn't observe.”
Her answer was measured.
And it denied the defense an argument that she was simply substituting her assumptions for facts.
When the questioning ended, Karen stepped down.
She didn't look toward Kavalik.
She didn't celebrate.
She had told the truth.
The rest belonged to the legal process.
The prosecution's most consequential witness was Trent Halverson.
He entered the courtroom visibly nervous.
He had testified before in routine proceedings, but never against a man who once controlled his career.
Kavalik watched him from the defense table.
For several seconds, their eyes met.
Then Trent looked toward the prosecutor.
He described the afternoon of the stop.