A Two Thousand Dollar Nebraska Land Purchase Leads to a Federal Fraud Case
The word jury sounded heavy in the small basement. I had spent my life fixing engines, dealing with physical things like cracked heads and worn bearings, things you could see and touch and measure with a micrometer. The idea of federal courtrooms and wire fraud felt like a different world, one where a man could easily lose his footing.
“If I agree to this,” I said, “what happens to my land?”
“Your title is secure, Arthur,” Sarah said, her voice quiet but firm. “But to get the federal authorities to step in and clear this cloud permanently, we have to let the Fairmonts take the bait. They have to believe you are broke and desperate.”
I looked down at my split knuckles. “I am broke, Sarah. That part is not an act.”
“Then it will be easy to play the part,” Agent Santos said. She pushed a small business card across the table. “If Brinley or Chadwick contacts you, you do not argue. You tell them you are tired of the fight.”
