Two uniformed officers got out of the car and walked across the lawn toward the crowd.

Harry Caldwell stomped on the gas pedal of his golf cart and drove it right over the lawn, stopping ten feet from where Trent was sitting.

“Arrest that man this second!” Harry yelled, aiming his signet ring at my chest.

“He just violently attacked my son in front of forty witnesses!”

I walked to the wooden picnic bench, picked up my blue evidence binder, and popped open the brass latch with a sharp metal click.

I took six blue presentation folders out of the pocket of the binder.