After my brother proudly told everyone at dinner that he had sold my small house for $300,000, my family applauded him for “finally making a responsible choice.”

The next morning, I sat in a sterile, fluorescent-lit interrogation room at the federal building downtown. On the other side of the double-sided glass, I knew my superiors were watching.

Across from me sat James Wheeler, the buyers' lawyer, and the notary public who had stamped the fraudulent Power of Attorney—a nervous, middle-aged woman named Brenda who was currently clutching a wet tissue as if her life depended on it.

"I didn't know!" Brenda wept. "He... he showed me her ID! He had a photocopy of her passport!"

"Which he stole from my desk during a family dinner three months ago," I said, leaning forward. "Did you verify the physical presence of the signer, Brenda? Did you look at the face of the person signing that document?"

"He said she was sick," Brenda whispered. "He brought a woman who wore a heavy scarf and sunglasses. She looked like the passport photo! I... I was in a hurry. He gave me an extra five hundred dollars for a 'travel fee.' I didn't think..."

"You didn't think, and now you are an accessory to a federal felony," Agent Miller said from the corner of the room. "Your notary license is revoked, and the Department of Justice is preparing charges for official misconduct and conspiracy to commit fraud."

Brenda buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking violently.

I turned my attention to James Wheeler, who looked like he hadn't slept in forty-eight hours. His expensive silk tie was crooked, and his eyes were bloodshot.

"Mr. Wheeler," I said. "Let’s talk about the Parkers. David and Michelle."

"They are devastated, Ms. Morrison," Wheeler said, his voice cracking. "They poured their entire life savings—one hundred thousand dollars for the down payment—into this house. They moved their furniture in yesterday. They thought they had finally achieved their dream. Now, federal agents have locked them out of the house, and their belongings are sealed inside a classified perimeter. They have nowhere to go."

My heart, which had remained frozen throughout the entire ordeal with my family, finally felt a twinge of genuine pain. David and Michelle Parker were innocent. They were the collateral damage of Jake’s greed and my family’s enabling blindness.

"Where are they now?" I asked.

"In a cheap motel near the highway," Wheeler said. "They don't have enough money to hire a new lawyer to get their down payment back from the escrow account, which has been frozen by the government. They are ruined."

I stood up and walked to the door. "Agent Miller, a word."

We stepped out into the quiet, carpeted hallway.

"The Parkers are civilians," I said. "They had no idea what Jake was doing. We need to expedite the release of their down payment from the escrow account, and we need to get their belongings out of my house without exposing the secure basement terminal."

"We’re already working on that, Sarah," Miller said, her tone softening. "But the legal process takes time. The frozen funds won't be released until the criminal case against your brother is formalized."

"That’s not good enough," I said. "They are sleeping in a motel because of my brother's crimes. I want to meet them. Today."