I turned my phone so the screen faced him. A small red light blinked in the corner, and the timer at the top read four minutes and twelve seconds. “I have recorded everything since you took your shirt off,” I said calmly. “Your face, your voice, and every time you pushed against me.” The man lunged for the phone, and the passengers across the aisle gasped. A woman in the next row stood up and said, “I saw it all, and I will say so.”

The man dropped back into his seat, sweating more than ever. “Delete it,” he hissed. “I will lose my job.” I did not answer. Instead, I pressed a second button on the screen, and the video began uploading to a shared folder my sister could see. The speakers crackled overhead, and the conductor’s voice said, “Will the passenger in seat 14B please remain seated? Transit police are boarding at the next station.”