Racist Cop Laughs at Teen in Court—Then Discovers She’s a Genius Attorney!
“So, on what basis did you determine he was probably high?”
Kilroy shrugged.
“He was fidgeting, looking around.”
“Did he ever raise his voice?”
“No.”
“Threaten you?”
“No.”
“Refuse to show ID?”
“No.”
Zariah paused and let the silence drag.
“So your conclusion was based solely on him fidgeting?”
Kilroy started to shift in his seat.
“Look, I’ve done this a long time and—”
“And my client was stopped, searched, and cited based on your feeling.”
The courtroom stayed quiet. Kilroy’s mouth opened, but no words came out fast enough.
Zariah continued.
“Your report also said you observed a bag under the passenger seat and suspected contraband.”
“Correct.”
“But the footage shows you asking what’s in the bag without ever pointing a flashlight or crouching down. How did you observe it?”
“I saw something dark under there. A shadow. I assumed it was a bag.”
“But you wrote that you observed a bag.”
“Maybe I was mistaken.”
Zariah let that hang in the air.
“Maybe you were.”
She walked slowly back to the table, calm and unbothered, like she was taking her time because she could. The prosecutor shuffled papers, but no one was listening to him now.
Zariah turned again.
“Officer Kilroy, in your 23 years on the force, have you ever been formally disciplined for misconduct?”
The room tensed. His jaw moved, but again, too slow.
“I—yes, once, 10 years ago.”
“What for?”
He looked to the prosecutor for help. The judge spoke before either could move.
“Answer the question, Officer.”
Kilroy let out a breath.
“Excessive force complaint. It was dropped.”
“Thank you,” Zariah said, her voice still even.
She glanced down at her binder then up at the gallery. The energy in the room was shifting.
People leaned in like they didn’t want to miss what came next. But what no one expected was how she’d used Kilroy’s own report to show he hadn’t just exaggerated; he had broken departmental policy, and he did it all on tape.
Officer Kilroy wasn’t smiling anymore. His arms were still crossed but tighter now, and his jaw was clenched.
His right knee bounced under the witness stand—a little twitch that gave him away. For the first time, he didn’t look like a man in control of the room.
Zariah stayed steady. She walked back to the center of the courtroom like she was giving a lecture.
No rush, no flash, just facts.
“I’d like to read a section from the Plano PD procedural manual revised January last year,” she said, holding up a printed packet.
“Section 5.3: suspicion-based stops.”
She cleared her throat.
“All stops based on observed behavior must be clearly articulated and supported by specific actions observed by the officer at the scene. Subjective feelings or instincts are not grounds for initiating a search.”
She lowered the packet and locked eyes with Kilroy.
“You wrote that my client was fidgeting, glancing around, and looked nervous. Correct?”
“Correct.”
“None of those are illegal behaviors?”
“No.”
“And you did not observe a weapon, contraband, or direct threat before initiating the search?”
“No.”
She flipped another page.
“Yet in the body cam footage at 4:19:08 p.m., you said, quote, ‘He fits the type. Always act the same way when they’ve got something to hide.'”
The courtroom didn’t breathe for a moment.
“‘Fits the type,'” Zariah repeated more slowly this time.
“That’s what you said.”
Kilroy shifted again.
“I meant—”
“You meant what?”
“I meant guys who get nervous during stops.”
“You sure that’s all you meant?” she asked, still calm.
“Because just a few seconds later, you said, ‘Just like the last kid, jumped like a rabbit when I reached for my belt.'”
Kilroy said nothing. Zariah looked to the judge.
“Your Honor, we’re establishing a pattern here. One not supported by department guidelines but by profiling assumption and a clear violation of policy 5.3.”
The judge nodded slowly.
“Continue.”
Zariah turned back.
“Officer Kilroy, are you familiar with case number J204 from 6 months ago? Same precinct?”
He frowned.
“Refresh my memory.”
“You stopped another young black man. Similar neighborhood. Similar phrasing in your report. ‘Twitchy.’ ‘Glanced around.’ ‘Looked like he had something to hide.'”
She held up two documents.
“The language is nearly identical.”
He didn’t respond.
“Did you detain that young man?”
“Yes.”
“Was anything illegal found?”
“No.”
“Was a complaint filed?”
“Yes.”
“But was it dropped?”
“No.”
The room got real still again. Zariah looked down at her notes, then up.
“Is it standard for you to repeat descriptions across different incidents when the behavior isn’t illegal and no violation has occurred?”
“I don’t know,” he mumbled.
Zariah stepped back.
“You don’t know?”
Kilroy took a breath.
“Maybe I rely on pattern recognition.”
Zariah tilted her head.
“That’s not what the department calls it.”
He raised his voice now, just a bit.
“Look, sometimes you get a feel for who’s hiding something.”
There it was. She waited for the air to settle.
“I believe we covered this, Officer,” she said plainly.
“Your department policy doesn’t accept feelings as a reason for a search.”
He said nothing. Zariah turned and addressed the judge.
“Your Honor, it’s clear the stop lacked legal grounds. The officer not only misrepresented his line of sight but also used subjective language with no supporting behavior. This isn’t about being a veteran on the force; it’s about accountability.”
