“Mrs. Whitmore,” Mackenzie’s voice sliced through the community center like a steel blade. “I’m attorney Mackenzie Reeves, representing Dutch Kellerman. Would you care to explain to this community how you forged my client’s signature on those easement documents?”
A collective gasp rippled through the three hundred residents packed into the room.
Up on the stage, Cordelia’s arrogant smile shattered. The projector remote trembled in her hand. Before she could form a lie, Mackenzie turned to the audiovisual tech at the back of the room and gave a sharp nod.
The screen behind Cordelia instantly switched. Instead of the polished rendering of the $80,000 bike path, high-definition images of the recreational consent forms filled the wall. Mackenzie had placed Cordelia’s forged signature right next to my authentic, notarized signature. The discrepancies were glaring. A child could see the forgery.
“Furthermore,” Mackenzie continued, stepping out of the row and into the center aisle, her prosecutorial rhythm flawless. “Would you care to explain how you embezzled $890,000 from this community’s emergency funds to finance your personal land acquisition scheme?”
