The screen shifted again. This time, forensic accounting ledgers appeared, highlighting direct wire transfers from the Willowbrook Heights HOA accounts straight into Cordelia and her husband Brad’s personal banking system.
The room erupted. Three hundred suburban residents, who had spent the last year listening to Cordelia preach about community values, suddenly realized they had been funding a massive criminal enterprise. Neighbors were shouting. Someone in the front row stood up and threw a community flyer at the stage.
“These are fabricated lies!” Cordelia screamed into the microphone, her voice shrill and desperate, the feedback whining through the speakers. “This is a conspiracy! He’s a grieving widower and a corrupt attorney trying to obstruct community development!”
“Actually, ma’am, it’s a federal indictment.”
The voice came from the rear exit.
Special Agent Martinez stepped out of the shadows, his FBI credentials held high. Behind him, four more federal agents in tactical windbreakers filtered into the aisles, sealing the room.
