Through the glass doors, he could see people moving along the lobby. Beyond the doors, the city continued as though nothing unusual had happened.
He wondered how many people had already begun telling others about the confrontation.
He wondered whether someone had recorded it.
Most of all, he wondered what the sergeant would say once the accounts had been collected.
OFFICER DANIEL REED: "I wasn't trying to hurt anyone."
Brooks studied him for a moment.
SERGEANT WILLIAM BROOKS: "Intent is something we can discuss. First, we need an accurate account of what occurred."
Reed fell silent.
For several seconds, neither man spoke.
Brooks had no interest in humiliating the younger officer in front of the crowd. He also had no intention of dismissing the incident simply because Reed was one of his own.
The badge on Reed's uniform represented a responsibility to the public. That responsibility did not disappear when an encounter became frustrating or when a person questioned an officer's conduct.
If anything, difficult situations demanded more discipline, not less.
Brooks looked toward the responding officers.
SERGEANT WILLIAM BROOKS: "Keep the scene secure. We'll proceed according to department procedure."
OFFICER ONE: "Understood."
The sergeant then stepped away to continue coordinating the response.
Reed remained quiet.
The longer he sat beside the patrol car, the more he seemed to recognize that the consequences of the morning might extend well beyond the confrontation itself.
He had once imagined that becoming a police officer would give him a clear sense of purpose. He had wanted to protect people and earn their trust.
Somewhere along the way, he had begun confusing respect with obedience.
He had treated a question as a challenge, and a challenge as a reason to assert control.
Now he was being asked to account for the very behavior he had believed would demonstrate his authority.
The thought was difficult to face.
Meanwhile, Margaret sat in the sheltered area near the courthouse entrance, holding the glass of water between her hands.
Her cheek still felt tender.
The initial shock had begun to fade, leaving behind a more complicated mixture of anger, embarrassment, and uncertainty.
She wondered whether she should continue with her original appointment.
She wondered whether she should call her daughter.
She wondered whether speaking up would create further difficulties for her or whether remaining silent would leave her feeling that she had accepted something she knew was wrong.
Marcus sat nearby, giving her space.
He had offered to stay until she felt ready to leave, but he did not pressure her to make any decisions.
MARGARET COLE: "I keep thinking that maybe I should have just walked away."
Marcus turned toward her.
MARCUS HILL: "Why do you think that?"
Margaret looked at the glass.
MARGARET COLE: "Because then none of this would have happened."
Marcus considered her words.
MARCUS HILL: "You were walking across a public plaza. You didn't make him hit you."
Margaret did not answer immediately.
MARCUS HILL: "And you didn't make him react the way he did when I asked him to explain himself."
She looked at Marcus.
MARCUS HILL: "Whatever happens next, you shouldn't have to take responsibility for someone else's decision to strike you."
The words were simple, but they seemed to help Margaret separate the events from the blame she had begun placing on herself.
She had not chosen the confrontation.
She had not asked to be struck.
She had merely been present when another person made a decision that changed the course of her morning.
MARGARET COLE: "I suppose you're right."
MARCUS HILL: "I think you deserve to be treated with dignity. That's all."
Margaret looked toward the courthouse doors.
MARGARET COLE: "It's strange. I always thought that if something like this happened, people would know what to do."
MARCUS HILL: "Sometimes they don't. Sometimes they're afraid of making things worse."
MARGARET COLE: "And sometimes they just keep walking."
Marcus did not disagree.
He had seen people hesitate in difficult situations before. He understood that fear, uncertainty, and concern for personal safety could keep someone from intervening.
But he also believed there was a difference between acting recklessly and refusing to acknowledge something troubling.
He had not approached Reed because he believed he could control the officer. He had approached because Margaret was standing there, injured and confused, and he could not convince himself that ignoring her was the right thing to do.
MARCUS HILL: "I can't say I knew what would happen. I just knew I couldn't pretend I hadn't seen it."