‘You can explain all you want to Internal Affairs,’ the woman said, then pointed to a concrete barrier across the street. ‘See that wall over there? You’re to stand down and wait until we come for you.’

‘You need to let me –’

‘An order is an order,’ the male detective said. ‘And she has seniority here. Get over there, asshole.’

The kid walked slowly toward the wall, no doubt fearing that his career in the police was all but over.

‘I’m sorry for all that,’ the male detective said.

‘If we could look again at the video,’ the woman detective said, holding out her hand.

Elise did some even faster clicking on her iPhone.

‘If you want this phone,’ she said, ‘you’ll need to serve me with a court order. Just for the record: I’ve emailed all the video files and the photo of that disgraceful young officer and his badge number to my late husband’s associates at the ACLU. But I would like you to take down our names and numbers, as I would like yours – so we can make a complaint against this officer and also seek compensation for police harassment while complimenting you to your superiors for being so professional and upright.’

I could hear the veiled threat going on behind all that. The way Elise was letting them know: you don’t think I know that you’re going to try to grab the evidence and vanish? She kept her nerve throughout this … and I could see the two detectives glancing in each other’s direction, wondering what their next move should be. The woman detective pulled out her notebook.

‘Point taken. Your names and addresses and phone numbers and emails … please. And who’s the woman in the car?’

‘She wants her identity kept secret … for obvious reasons,’ Elise said. ‘And under the law –’

‘I know the law, ma’am,’ the woman officer said. ‘Before you ask, here is my card. If you do want to contact me or know who and where to make an official complaint, you can phone me directly. And if you can send me the video …’

Elise accepted her card. We supplied her with our contact details. The exchange ended with the male detective telling me I needed to get that windshield of mine repaired immediately.

‘It was broken by the demonstrators, sir.’

‘You can apply for compensation through the LAPD, as we were supposed to be protecting you when we let you drive up to the clinic,’ he said, handing me his card. ‘Though I’ve got to warn you: it might take a lot of paperwork and some months before you see anything back.’