A traffic stop

It turned out that Melissa should have left even earlier. Traffic was a nightmare; an accident had caused major gridlock, and Melissa barely moved for twenty minutes or more. When it all cleared up Melissa looked at her clock and realized she only had thirty minutes to spare! She wanted to be early so as not to be rushed in her entry, so she decided to go a bit faster than the speed limit. In her haste she underestimated her speed. Waiting in the nearby bushes was Trooper Hendrickson scanning cars with his radar gun. He scanned a car going 70 miles per hour in a 60 zone! He started his car and blared his siren, motioning for the car to pull over. Melissa, in her ever compliant nature, obliged and quickly got out her license and registration.

Hendrickson walked up to her window, which Melissa had already rolled down.

"Good evening ma'am, do you know how fast you were going?"

"No, officer," replied Melissa meekly.

"You were going 70 in a 60 zone. May I see your license and registration?"

"Yes, officer," obliged Melissa as she handed the relevant documents to Hendrickson.

Hendrickson looked over the documents and everything appeared to be in order. He was in the process of writing Melissa a ticket when he noticed that her height on the license was 5'7. Noticing also that her hair was long, red, and tied into a ponytail, he decided to look further into the matter.

"Ma'am, have you swallowed any illegal substances recently?"

Melissa was stunned by such a question and got really nervous.

"Ummmm, no officer, I was on my way to a date."

Hendrickson misinterpreted this nervousness and started to think that Melissa was hiding something.

"And what is the nature of this, *date*, of yours?" Hendrickson inquired further.

"It's with this guy I met at a clinic." Melissa noted, not wanting to divulge that much information.

Hendrickson had worked with several officers who had dealt with controlled substances in the past, and learned that "clinic" was often a euphemism used by **** dealers and mules alike. He still decided to give Melissa the benefit of the doubt, and continued writing her ticket when a buzz on his walkie-talkie interrupted him.

"Excuse me one moment," he instructed Melissa as he decided to walk away for more privacy.

"Breaker breaker, how do you copy? Over." He spoke into the microphone.

"This **** mule on the run, Hendrickson," noted Lt. Anderson at the central dispatch office, "She's on YOUR road. I've been instructed to personally send out this message to each and every highway patrolman on duty on the road tonight: do NOT let this **** mule escape, she works for one of the deadliest and most efficient cartels in Mexico, and if you have any reason at all to suspect someone bring them in for questioning. Over."

"Wilco. Over."

Hendrickson looked up at the pulled over car and knew what he had to do.