A Two Thousand Dollar Nebraska Land Purchase Leads to a Federal Fraud Case
“Can she do that without my physical signature?” I asked.
“The state portal is automated,” Dolores said. “It bypasses our office until the final deed amendment is approved. She was trying to slip it through before the winter tax cycle.”
I looked at the forged signature again. The ink on the photocopy was solid black, but the lines were shaky at the curves, as if the pen had hesitated.
“Who witnessed this?” I asked.
Dolores tapped the page. “Nobody from this county.”
I paid ten dollars for the copy and took it out to my truck. The wind was coming hard from the north, rattling the metal sign on the side of the courthouse. I climbed into the cab and pulled my wallet from my pocket.
I laid my Nebraska driver’s license on the dashboard right next to the photocopy of the consent form.
My real signature was a short, flat line of ink, the letters tight and blunt. It was the signature of a man who had spent thirty years signing greasy work orders on the hoods of trucks, using a heavy thumb to hold the carbon paper steady.
