Eight months after telling me I’d be going straight back, she sat in a conference room with a drain in the floor — Samuel had offered it to the prosecutor as neutral ground, and the prosecutor had a sense of humor — and she gave them Brian.
All of him.
The Meridian setup. The backdated form. The $2.1 million routed through a shell vendor to an account in Brian’s cousin’s name.
And the part I hadn’t known.
The mortgage on my house.
Brian had refinanced it eleven days after my conviction, using a power of attorney I’d signed in 2016 so he could handle the closing on the office lease while I was at a trade show.
One page. Limited scope. Expired in thirty days, per its own terms.
He’d used it anyway.
The bank hadn’t read page two.
Nobody reads page two.
Samuel did.
The house came back to me in June.
I didn’t move in.
