Story code: ST-001375
Part 2: The Call to Dispatch
Miller remained positioned directly in front of Sarah, his chest inches from her face, his raised arm blocking her physical access to her phone. Sarah stepped back again, her shoulders dropping as she held the phone flat against her chest. She did not speak, but her eyes darted toward the store entrance where several shoppers had stopped to watch.
“Put the phone away,” Miller repeated, his hand hovering near his belt. “You do not call dispatch when an officer has already given you a direct command. Hand over the keys.”
I raised my left hand slightly to catch Miller’s eye while using my right hand to press the transmission button on the radio clipped to my shoulder. “Dispatch, this is Leo in Row C,” I said, speaking clearly into the microphone. “I have an individual claiming to be an off-duty officer blocking a customer at her SUV. He is refusing to allow her to verify his identity and is preventing her from calling 911. Requesting local police dispatch to this location immediately.”
Miller turned around to face me, his hands dropping to his sides, his jaw clenched. “Cancel that call, security. You have no authority to interfere with a police officer during an emergency.”
“The call is already through, sir,” I replied, maintaining my position. “Active patrol cars are on the way.”
The radio on my shoulder crackled. “Unit 4, dispatch. Local deputies are en route, ETA two minutes. They have your location in Row C.”
“You’re making a massive mistake,” Miller said, taking a step toward me. He looked directly at the glowing blue indicator light on my chest-mounted bodycam. “Turn that camera off. You do not have permission to record me.”
“I am on store property, and my bodycam remains active during all security interactions,” I said.
Miller turned back to Sarah. She clicked her key fob, and the SUV’s lights flashed, but Miller did not move. He stood directly over the driver’s side door handle, physically blocking her access. I took a step to the side to keep both of them in the camera’s frame. A second shopper in Row C stopped loading their trunk and stared in our direction. Miller noticed the onlooker and turned his back to them, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
“This is your last warning,” he said to Sarah, his voice dropping to a low, intense tone. “Give me the keys before the patrol cars arrive, or this goes from obstruction to a felony.”
Sarah kept her back pressed against the rear door of her SUV, her knuckles white around her keys. She did not answer him, keeping her eyes fixed on the entrance of the parking lot where the distant sound of a siren began to echo. I kept the camera rolling as the first blue and red lights appeared at the edge of the lot.