By slowing her down using the remote

Mr. Jester turned his attention to her, his smile widening. “Ah, Officer. So quick to restore order. Admirable, truly. But I’m afraid you’re about to learn something fascinating about time.”

He pressed another button on the remote, this one marked with a small rewind icon and a “-4x” beneath it.

Grace’s movements slowed to a crawl. Her steps, which had been brisk and confident, became sluggish, her legs lifting and lowering as though wading through tar. Her hand reached for her firearm, but the motion was painstakingly gradual. Her normally sharp features slackened slightly, her mouth opening ever so slowly as if preparing to bark another command. But no sound escaped her lips.

The courtroom fell into an eerie silence once again, all eyes fixed on the surreal scene.

Mr. Jester stood, placing the remote on the table in front of him with a casual flourish. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, gesturing to the frozen prosecutor and the now nearly-motionless officer, “Allow me to assure you: this is no scam. My product works exactly as advertised.”

The tension in the courtroom was thick enough to cut with a knife. Judge Sinclair rubbed her temples, her patience clearly wearing thin. “Mr. Jester,” she said sharply, her tone laced with exasperation, “This has gone far enough. Whatever tricks you’re pulling, they won’t save you from the consequences of your actions. This court does not tolerate pranks.”

“This sure ain’t a prank your honor. Perhaps you need a more convincing demonstration.”

Mr. Jester raised a single hand, “Oh, Ms. Hart,” he said, almost pityingly, “so quick to judge, yet so blind to the wonders of true innovation. Allow me to demonstrate exactly what this ‘hoax’ can do.”

He raised the remote, aiming it squarely at Vivian.