A scraggly-bearded man, sporting a tattoo, a baseball cap and a black T-shirt, takes another puff of his cigarette.
Talking to cops made him nervous - that much was clear in his first exchange with the officer about 30 minutes earlier.
He shuffled about on the dark sidewalk, where two friends huddled around him, waiting. To pass the time, the trio gossiped about the two handcuffed teenagers standing several metres away.
It was getting late - about 11 p.m. on Saturday - and the group would not be leaving until a little detective work confirmed the officer's suspicions. But that is jumping ahead.
Several hours earlier, Const. Jaison Kunnamkudath clocked in at Richmond RCMP headquarters for Saturday night's long weekend shift.
With his uniform on and a pistol at his hip, Kunnamkudath - who is called Special K by colleagues - strode out to his police car, settled in to his home-away-from-home, and buckled up.
He was on traffic patrol, referred to by the RCMP as the Enhanced Road Safety Enforcement Initiative (ERSEI).
Priorities for those enforcing the initiative include reducing incidences of impaired, aggressive and distracted driving, and improving intersection safety and seatbelt usage.
As Special K drove towards Steveston Highway, his eyes scanned the road for traffic offences.
"Fifty four," he said, confirming his visual check with a glance at the in-car radar unit. Three years of experience with the RCMP meant he was nearly spot-on with his estimates.
But that wasn't good enough for court evidence. He also conducted a self-check and a tuning fork check on the radar unit every day, to ensure the accuracy of its readings.
The car veered onto a side street, partially hidden by tall trees. Special K hopped out, gripped his laser speed "gun" and tiptoed stealthily toward a light pole, trying to hide behind it, though his large frame and yellow police vest hardly cooperated.
He pointed the radar gun at an oncoming car. It confirmed, again, his speed estimate. "Ninety, ninety one and his car would be towed," he said.
Special K leapt off of the sidewalk and into traffic, signaling for the speeding driver to pull over.
"I'm so sorry, I know I was speeding," pleaded the driver, spilling a story involving his kids and work and stress.
Moments later, with licence and insurance information in-hand, Special K scrolls through the driver's previous traffic violations.
There were nine in the last five years, and the driver was about to bank a tenth.
After a few more apologies, the driver was on his way with a $196 ticket.
"It's not about how many tickets you write, it's about the safety," remarked Special K.
Next, it was time for one of his favourite part of the day - coffee break.
Four officers and one auxiliary RCMP member piled into a nearby Tim Hortons, using the break as a chance to debate their next move.
Several votes were cast for opposing plans in a judicial manner curiously reflective of official RCMP conduct.
Then, it was roadblock launchtime.
A convoy of police cars descended upon the south end of the No. 2 Road Bridge. Officers rummaged the trunks of their cars for LED lights and orange cones to block off three lanes of road.
A few minutes later and the operation was on.
Special K approached the first car, and after the driver's window slid down. He poked his head inside.
"Where are you coming from?" he asked, peering closely at the driver's facial expressions. "How many drinks have you had?"
Those brief seconds gave Special K all the time he needed to check for signs of impaired driving, lack of seatbelt usage and other potential violations. The driver was free to go.
Several minutes later, though, another driver was less fortunate.
His admission of drinking - albeit only one drink - meant he would be read his rights, then asked to submit a breath sample.
He consented, and the mouthpiece for the palmsized breathalyzer machine was placed between his lips.
"Go, go, go, go, go, go!" chanted Special K, as the driver took a deep breath and blew into the machine.
It read zero, meaning the alcohol had already worked its way through the driver's system and he was free to go.
The evening stretched on. Another car rolled forward. The car contained one more occupant than it had seatbelts, and the violator squirmed uncomfortably under the officer's gaze.
He provided his name in lieu of identification, saying he had no I.D.
Special K settled back into his makeshift home for a little piece of detective work.
Something was off about the man's circumstances: no I.D. and according to police records, no history of ever having one.
It was time for a word with the driver of the car. Special K could ticket her, too, for driving a passenger that was not using a seatbelt.
The driver and her friend lumbered out onto the sidewalk, joining the man in staring at a nearby arrest by colleagues of Special K.
Two teenagers were being handcuffed for possession of controlled substances, and their SUV was being towed for lack of insurance and not displaying an 'N' sticker.
Special K returned once more, satisfied but stern.
"Don't lie," he warned the man. "You could be arrested for obstruction of justice."
The man had lied about his name, covering up an extensive criminal history that included an assault on a police officer. There were no warrants this time, though - only a seatbelt ticket to be issued.
And with that, the mystery was solved.
"That's real police work," said Special K, before moving on to greet the next car.
