The woman’s grin vanished as I got closer, and she backed toward a faded blue hatchback. “Stay away from me,” she called, her voice thinner than before. I stopped a few feet away and held up my phone. “I’m not going to touch you,” I said calmly. “I’m going to show you what the camera on that light pole just recorded.” Her eyes fell to the screen, and the color drained from her face.

Behind her, the hatchback’s door opened, and a store employee in a red vest stepped out, holding a radio. “Ma’am, I watched you push that cart,” he said quietly. “Security is coming.” She spun around, mouth open. Then I noticed a little boy in the back seat, clutching a juice box, staring at me with wide, frightened eyes.