Tad had two speeds—fast and faster. But I couldn’t blame him with the way that engine sounded. Its sonorous note was pure music. The tactile feel, handling, and throttle response made speeding almost a forgivable sin in a car like that.
We kept following the Ferrari as it swerved in and out, the top down, the brunette’s hair flowing.
The light at the cross street ahead turned yellow.
Then red just as Tad blasted through the intersection.
It was arguably apinklight, but Mendoza's flashers kicked on. The siren swirled, and he pulled into the intersection, chasing after the Ferrari.
I didn't think Tad would run in a situation like this, but you never knew. It depended on what he was holding.
With red and blue flashing in his rearview mirror, Tad decided to take the civilized option and pull over.
Mendoza’s squad car pulled in line behind him. He sat in the car for a moment, running the plates, then hopped out and approached the vehicle with caution.
31
Tad had a clean record. A few speeding tickets here and there, but nothing much to speak of. No drug possession charges, no DUIs, no aggravated assault. Nothing to raise red flags. He’d been doing a good job staying under the radar.
Jack pulled up behind Mendoza's squad car. He killed the engine, and we hopped out to join the party.
"Driver’s license and proof of insurance, please," Mendoza said as he reached Tad’s door.
"Certainly," Tad replied, cautiously digging into his glovebox. He handed the necessary paperwork to Mendoza, who looked over it.
"Do you know why I pulled you over?”
"You liked the car and wanted to get a closer look?" Tad said with an optimistic smile.
"It is a nice car, sir. But you were going 65 in a 35, changing lanes without signaling, and you ran a red light."
Tad smiled again. "I could have sworn it was yellow. Was I going that fast?"
Mendoza nodded.
"Did you clock me on radar?"
"We’ve been trained to estimate speed. You were going twice as fast as anyone else on the road. I think 65 is a generous estimate."
"Do you think that's really going to hold up in court?"
Mendoza's face tensed. "Have you had anything to drink this afternoon?”
It was a bullshit line, and Tad knew it. He wasn't happy about the direction this was going. His face wrinkled, and he said, "No!”
"Do you have any drugs in the car?"
Tad's scowl deepened. "No. What does that have to do with anything?”
"I'm going to need you to step out of the vehicle."
"What? Why?"
"I gave you a lawful command. Are you failing to comply?”
Mendoza was doing everything everyone hates about traffic stops. A seemingly unnecessary escalation. It was a lawful command that would often lead to non-compliance, which was a violation. The subject could then be arrested for resisting or obstruction.
"Why do I have to get out of the car? This is ridiculous. Is your bodycam rolling? Are you recording this?”
