The Archangel Drones Read Online Free PDF Page B

camera, the “assault” on a police officer was clearly documented. It gave Big Jim all the justification he needed to escalate the encounter and teach the cocky little shit a lesson about life’s true authority.
    For a fraction of a second, the cop was disappointed. Some people would drop their hands in order to execute the turn, certain body types unable to spin with their hands in the air. The movement of lowering once-raised hands could easily be interpreted as “making an aggressive move,” or “trying to reach his waistline,” the location where the vast majority of felons stashed weapons. Marwick would have been completely within his rights to shoot the driver right on the spot if he’d made such a gesture.
    He let the kid make three quarters of the turn toward the car, and then shoved him hard against the sheet metal. Again, uncontrollable reflexes took over, the young man’s hands dropping to the surface of the hood, attempting to protect his face from the impact of smashing into the solid surface. It wasn’t conscious thought, but on camera, it looked like he was moving his arms to resist.
    At that same moment, the first backup car screeched onto the scene, the officer pulling his cruiser up directly behind Jim’s, blocking the middle of the road.
    So far, Marwick had the kid on an improper stop, evading a police officer, assault, and resisting arrest. Now that other officers were arriving, it was time to initiate a “pig pile.”
    When the driver’s hands moved to prevent the face plant, Jim took a step back and redrew his weapon, screaming, “On the ground! Get on the ground!””
    The newly arriving patrolman, completely unaware of what had really just transpired, doubled his pace to assist. He accelerated rapidly, slamming his shoulder into the small of the suspect’s back and taking Jacob to the pavement. From the recent arrival’s perspective, it looked like a brother officer was in danger from a punk kid.
    Again, the driver’s survival instinct took over, both of his palms coming forward to break his fall while he turned his face to avoid a nose-crushing impact.
    Now there were two voices shouting at the top of their lungs at the utterly bewildered teenager, soon joined by a third and then a fourth officer as responding units poured in, their urgency prompted by the broadcast of an evasion. The fact that it was the shift supervisor involved in the arrest made it all the more urgent.
    There is an unwritten law invoked by every police force in the nation – “Run from us, and we have an open license.” Fleeing suspects, especially in motor vehicles, were a nightmare. Multiple cars racing through the streets endangered civilians, police, and property. High-speed chases generated massive adrenaline dumps, frayed nerves, and most importantly, showed a blatant disregard for the officers’ authority. There were few more visible markers of guilt. When the pursuit finally ended, the result was a recipe for disaster – a bunch of edgy cops handling a disrespectful suspect who had broken numerous laws and threatened the police.
    The newly arriving officers had no way of knowing if the driver “fighting” with their supervisor had fled for one block or ten miles. They merely recognized that a suspect involved in an altercation with one of their own, and that was enough.
    A swarm of blue uniforms rushed to subdue the suspect and make sure none of their brothers was hurt. It was a full-on assault, little different from a charged-up infantry squad taking a hill.
    Within seconds, most of the experienced officers sensed that the Honda’s driver was most likely not resisting, the telltale signs obvious to their trained eyes. They were also reasonably sure that the kid lying face down on the pavement wasn’t a threat. Those indicators, however, made little difference as a carefully choreographed sequence of events began to unfold. The suspect had ran, and everybody knew that if the police had to come