I watched him stand in the pickup lane with his phone pressed to his ear, then slowly turn his head toward the building.

Then he saw me.

For three full seconds, nobody moved.

Spencer’s face went through a dozen expressions, confusion first, then fury, then the kind of fear I had never seen on him.

He ran.

He made it about forty feet before two officers took him down on the grass beside his car.

He shouted that it was a misunderstanding, that he was only a driver, that he had a right to a lawyer.

In the backseat of his car, the officers found a small cooler bag.