Chapter 13 - Handcuffs Over the Carving Knife
State troopers and federal agents dragged Marcus, Sylvia, and Tiffany out of the Highland Crest mansion in full view of forty neighbors, six local news crews, and two dozen reporters.
Sylvia was weeping hysterically, her emerald dress ruined with chemical bleach stains, her hands handcuffed behind her back as she was shoved into the rear of a marked police cruiser.
Marcus, his tuxedo torn and his face covered in sweat, fought against the officers, screaming profanities into the television cameras until an agent pushed his head down into the backseat of an FBI transport van.
Tiffany Ross followed behind in tears, stripped of Chloe’s diamond earrings, her head bowed in humiliation as flashbulbs lit up the gray Thanksgiving sky.
Specialist Bradley and the forensic team padlocked the front doors of the estate, applying official federal seizure seals across the threshold:
SEIZED BY THE UNITED STATES MARSHALS SERVICE UNDER TITLE 18 US CODE — ASSET FORFEITURE DIVISION.
The mansion was dark. The Thanksgiving feast sat cold on the table.
I stood on the front lawn, taking a deep, clean breath of the winter air.
David walked up beside me, handing me a warm cup of coffee from his thermos.
May you like
“It’s done, Mom,” David said gently. “The warrants are executed, the evidence is secured, and the U.S. Attorney is filing a non-bailable capital indictment before the magistrate this afternoon.”
“Let’s go see your sister,” I said, taking his arm.
