I clocked a speeding car and walked up to it expecting the usual excuses. What I found instead turned a routine stop into the kind of decision that follows you long after the sirens die. I pulled over a man for doing 88 in a 55, and I thought I already knew how that stop was going to go.
I did not.
I caught him on radar just past the overpass, right where people usually slam the brakes the second they spot a cruiser. He did not.
He kept flying until I lit him up. Even then, it took him a few seconds to pull over, like he was arguing with himself the whole way to the shoulder.