Chapter 6 - MONDAY AT NOON
Monday morning arrived with a clear, scorching Texas sky.
At 11:30 AM, Mr. Harrison and I walked into the glass-and-steel skyscraper of the Northern District Court in downtown Dallas. The air inside the building was cool, smelling faintly of lemon polish and industrial floor wax.
We took the elevator to the fifth floor and entered the offices of the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s Financial Crimes Division.
Sitting in a glass-walled conference room was Special Agent Marcus Vance—a sharp-eyed man in a grey suit who looked like he hadn't slept in three days—alongside an Assistant United States Attorney named Sarah Jenkins.
"Mr. Harrison, Leo," Agent Vance said, standing up and shaking our hands. "Please, sit down."
We took our seats at the long conference table. Spread out in front of Agent Vance were two dozen legal documents, bank records, and the frozen account statements from Chase Bank.
"We reviewed the filings your attorney submitted over the weekend, Leo," Agent Vance began, opening a black folder. "The documentation provided regarding the UTMA trust established by your late grandfather, Thomas Moretti, is airtight. The signature verification on the early liquidation request submitted six months ago by Arthur Moretti has already been flagged by our forensic document examiner as a clear forgery."
"Has my father attempted to replace the funds?" I asked.
AUSA Sarah Jenkins leaned forward, adjusting her glasses. "At 10:45 AM this morning, your father’s corporate attorney attempted to deposit a cashier’s check for seventy-five thousand dollars into the Chase trust account, accompanied by a request for a sixty-day stay of execution."
"Seventy-five thousand?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Out of three hundred and fifty thousand?"
"It’s all he has liquid," Jenkins said flatly. "His commercial property is already mortgaged to the hilt, and his logistics company’s credit lines are completely maxed out. He tried to offer a personal promissory note for the remaining balance."
Mr. Harrison let out a soft, dry laugh. "A promissory note from a man who just stole three hundred grand from his own son. That's insulting."
"We rejected the partial deposit," Agent Vance said. "Which brings us to right now."
He pulled a heavy black desk clock toward him. The digital red numbers read 11:58 AM.
"It is two minutes until noon, Leo," Agent Vance said quietly, looking me straight in the eye. "Once the clock hits 12:00, if full restitution has not cleared the Chase clearinghouse, I sign this federal arrest warrant for Arthur Moretti. The charges will include Grand Larceny, Bank Fraud under Title 18, and Identity Theft."
The room went completely silent. The only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioning.
I thought about my father standing at the head of that restaurant table three nights ago. I remembered the cold, arrogant smirk on his face. I remembered the way he tapped his glass with a silver fork, taking pleasure in publicly stripping away my future to hand it to my brother.
We drained your entire future to fix your brother's mess. Deal with it.
I looked at the digital clock on the table.
11:59 AM.
12:00 PM.
"Sign the warrant, Agent Vance," I said without a second of hesitation.
May you like
Agent Vance picked up his pen, unclipped the cap, and signed his name on the bottom line of the arrest warrant with a firm, practiced motion.
"It's done," Vance said, standing up. "My field team is already staging outside his office in Plano. We execute the warrant in twenty minutes."
