A little past two in the morning, the officers brought all three of them in. Most of the alcohol had worn off, and every trace of swagger had drained from their faces.
When they saw me, their eyes darted everywhere but mine.
In the interrogation room, with the full dashcam footage playing, none of them could deny a thing.
The officer told them their conduct constituted a public-order offense serious enough for administrative detention.
That was all it took. The color left their faces at the same time. They hit their knees right there in front of me, crying, begging me to let it go.
Ervin knocked his forehead against the floor:
"Please—I was wrong, I was so wrong! I was drunk out of my mind, I wasn't even human! Just this once, I'm begging you, just let us off this once, okay?"
"I'm a sales director—I've got elderly parents, a six-year-old son, one point two million still on my mortgage! If I get detained I lose everything! My whole family goes under, you understand? We can't survive that!"
Rodney started crying too: