“You don’t answer to him.”
The General turned.
His expression was not angry.
That was worse.
“Deputy.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Do not alter, delete, stop, surrender, or transfer that recording except through documented evidence procedures.”
The Sheriff stepped forward.
“This is still my scene.”
The senior officer turned toward him.
“No.”
The Sheriff stared.
The officer pointed toward the government case.
“You physically interfered with secured federal material after being warned.”
“I’m a Sheriff.”
“You’re also a citizen.”
The sentence landed.
The Sheriff’s face turned red.
“I had probable cause.”
“For what?”
The Sheriff opened his mouth.
Nothing came.
The General walked toward the patrol SUV.
The Deputy handed him his credential wallet.
He looked at the dust across the leather.
Then at the Sheriff.
“You threw this.”
The Sheriff said:
“I didn’t know who you were.”
The General’s expression changed slightly.
“There it is.”
The Sheriff frowned.
“What?”
“The sentence people use when they think the identity of the person they mistreated is more important than the conduct itself.”
The highway went silent.
The Sheriff looked toward the assembled vehicles.
Then the General.
“You expect me to apologize because you outrank somebody?”
“No.”
The General slid the credential wallet back into his jacket.
“I expect you to understand I should not have needed rank to prevent what happened.”
The Deputy looked toward the ground.
The Sergeant’s jaw tightened.
The younger officer beside the General said nothing.
The Sheriff searched for something to regain footing.
“You crossed the center line.”
The General nodded.
“Then issue the citation.”
The Sheriff stared.
“What?”
“I said issue the citation.”
The General held out one hand.
“If you have lawful evidence of a traffic violation, write it.”
The Sheriff looked confused.
The General continued.
“But do not invent obstruction.”
“Do not invent resisting.”
“Do not invent contraband.”
“And do not touch that case again.”
The Sheriff lowered the baton.
Then the dark federal sedan arrived.
Two investigators stepped out.
Plain clothes.
Credentials visible.
The Sheriff watched them approach.
One spoke to the senior officer.
Then looked toward the sealed case.
“Was the seal compromised?”
“No.”
“Handled?”
“Yes.”
“By?”
The senior officer looked toward the Sheriff.
The investigator followed his gaze.
The Sheriff’s stomach dropped.
The investigator walked over.
“Sheriff, I need you to set the baton on the hood.”
The Sheriff laughed in disbelief.
“You’re not arresting me.”
“I didn’t say I was.”
“Then why?”
“Because I’m about to interview you, and right now the baton is potential evidence.”
The Sheriff gripped it tighter.
The General watched.
The younger Deputy watched.
The Sergeant watched.
The federal investigator said nothing else.
Eventually the Sheriff placed the baton on the hood.
Metal touched metal.