My phone started ringing.
Agent Martinez.
“Excuse me.”
I stepped onto the back porch.
“This is Sarah Morrison.”
“Agent Morrison, we need you to come in immediately.”
“We’ve got a federal crime scene at your property address, and we need a full debrief on the security implications.”
“My brother is here with my family.”
“He believes he was helping me by selling the house.”
“Your brother committed wire fraud, identity theft, and illegal transfer of federally monitored property.”
“The buyers are victims.”
“The real estate professionals are potential accomplices.”
“Your property is now evidence in a federal investigation.”
“What happens next?”
“We’re executing arrest warrants within the hour.”
“Your brother needs to be taken into custody before he has an opportunity to destroy evidence or flee.”
“Can you keep him at your current location?”
“He doesn’t know he’s committed a crime.”
“He thinks he was helping me.”
“Agent Morrison, your brother forged legal documents and illegally transferred government-monitored property.”
“His intentions are irrelevant to the charges.”
I hung up and returned inside.
The mood in the living room had changed.
Jake was frantically searching through his folder of documents, and my parents were asking questions he couldn’t answer.
“Sarah,” Mom said when I sat down.
“Jake says the mortgage company told him you were behind on payments, but he can’t remember exactly who he spoke to or when.”
“And the power of attorney,” Dad added.
“Jake says you signed it in your kitchen, but you said you left directly from your office.”
Jake was sweating.
“Look, maybe I’m remembering some details wrong.”
“But the important thing is that I helped Sarah get out of a bad situation.”
“What bad situation?” I asked gently.
“My mortgage payments were automatic and current.”
“I never asked for help.”
“And I certainly never signed anything giving you legal control over my property.”
“But the foreclosure notices…” Jake started, then stopped.
“What foreclosure notices?”
“I saw them in your mailbox.”
“Jake, I had mail forwarding set up before I left.”
“All of my mail was being sent to a secure federal facility.”
“There was no mail in my mailbox.”
The room was silent except for the sound of Jake frantically shuffling his papers.
“Maybe there was some confusion,” Mom said hopefully.
“Maybe Jake misunderstood the situation but was trying to help.”
“The problem is that Jake forged my signature on legal documents and illegally sold federally monitored property.”
“Even if he believed his intentions were good, those are serious crimes.”
Jake suddenly stood.
“This is insane.”
“It’s just a house. A regular house in suburbia.”