Daniels barked a laugh. “Badge number—listen to her.”
Johnson’s eyes burned. “You don’t get to demand anything.”
The woman nodded slowly, as if accepting the truth of who he was. “Then I’ll read it myself.”
She tilted her phone camera toward his chest.
Johnson’s hand shot out and slapped the phone downward.
It wasn’t a violent punch, but it was physical—an intimidation move, quick and practiced.
The phone slipped. The woman caught it before it hit the ground, but her calm finally cracked—not into screaming, into something sharper.
“Don’t touch my property,” she said, voice low.
Johnson leaned in, lips curling. “Or what?”
Daniels smirked. “Or she’ll call the manager?”
The woman held Johnson’s gaze for a long beat. Then, quietly, she asked the question that changed the entire tone of the night.
“Officer Johnson,” she said, “is your body cam on?”
Johnson blinked, just once.
Daniels’ smirk faltered.
Johnson lifted his chin. “Of course it is.”
The woman nodded toward his chest. “Then you won’t mind stating, on camera, the reason you’re escalating a sobriety checkpoint into an attempted search and physical interference.”
Johnson’s jaw worked.
Daniels’ eyes darted to Johnson’s body cam.