"Special Agent Cole, did Deputy Gity's behavior change when you identified yourself as a federal investigator?"
I considered the wording carefully.
"Not immediately. He became more hostile and accused me of lying."
"Did your position give him any reason to treat you differently from an ordinary civilian?"
I looked toward the jury.
"My position provided a means of verifying my identity. It did not give him permission to assault me, and it did not create rights that other people don't have."
The prosecutor nodded.
I continued.
"Every person stopped on that highway was entitled to lawful treatment. My badge didn't make what happened wrong. It was already wrong."
The courtroom remained quiet.
Then the prosecutor asked, "Why is that distinction important to you?"
I took a breath.
"Because somebody else might have been sitting there without an agency looking for them."
I looked down at my hands.
"And I don't know what would have happened to that person."
The defense attorney questioned me for nearly two hours.
He asked about my career.
My car.
My financial circumstances.
My meeting earlier that day.
He suggested that the government's equipment might have made Garrett reasonably suspicious.
I answered that I had offered a proper verification process.
He asked why I hadn't immediately opened the trunk.
I reminded him that my hands were cuffed behind my back and that consent to a search was a separate legal question.
He asked whether I had been angry during the encounter.
"Yes."
"Did you express that anger?"
"I answered questions firmly."
"Did you tell Deputy Gity he was wrong?"
"Yes."
The attorney leaned forward.
"And you believe that was appropriate?"
I looked directly at him.
"I believe a person can disagree with an officer without forfeiting the right to be safe."
He paused.
Then asked whether I had exaggerated the danger.
I looked toward the jury.
"The jury has the recordings."
He didn't seem pleased with that answer.
But it was the truth.
The jury didn't need to rely solely on my description.
They could hear Garrett shouting.
They could see him strike the windshield.
They could watch Miles being shoved.
They could see Ruth standing behind the fence.
And they could listen to the radio call that finally brought help.
The footage spoke more clearly than any dramatic speech I could have given.
Ruth's testimony came the following day.
She wore a navy-blue suit and carried herself with the calm confidence of a woman who had spent decades working under pressure.
The prosecutor asked why she started recording.
Ruth answered simply.
"Because a woman was being hurt."
"Did you know who she was?"
"No."
"Did you know she worked for Army CID?"
"No."
"Did you know the value of her car?"