When I was in HS in the early 90s, some friends and I were headed to a HS soccer game. One of my buddies was drinking a 40. The rest of us sober, including myself as driver.
The Westlake PD must have seen us chilling in the parking lot before the game, and decided to hassle us. Cuffed, leaning on the cruiser after the initial "How's it going, Boys, why don't you step out of the vehicle." When they started to search the car, I objected, like any teenage dickhead, and the officer's partner promptly bounced my head off the hood. Saw stars/slumped to the ground, etc.
Eventually, they figure out they don't have much more than Minor in Possession for my buddy and some sort of ticket for me, so they call our parents. My other friend's dad, a prominent attorney at Brown McCarroll, shows up at the station to pick us up, takes one look at the huge bruise starting to emerge on the side of my face as I'm sitting on a bench in cuffs, and asks to see the shift leader quietly. I heard yelling for about 10 minutes, another more senior office comes running in, the next thing I know, I'm being apologized to by the head of the Westlake PD.
My mom still grounded me for most of the rest of my senior year.