Chapter 2 - THE ENABLERS' WRATH
By 8:00 a.m. Eastern Time, the lobby of the Alexandria Federal Courthouse was buzzing with activity.
Arthur and Carol Keane swept through the glass doors like a storm front, flanked by Paige’s husband, Greg Miller. Arthur was a retired middle-management executive who had spent his entire life blustering his way past people, relying on intimidation and righteous indignation. Carol marched beside him, her face red, holding a leather handbag like a weapon.
"Where is the supervisor in charge?!" Arthur demanded loudly, slamming his fist onto the security screening desk. "My daughter is being held unlawfully in this building! I demand her immediate release!"
The court security officers didn't even blink. Two armed officers stepped forward, placing their hands calmly on their belts. "Sir, lower your voice and step through the magnetometer, or you will be placed under arrest for disturbing the peace."
"Do you know who my daughter is?!" Carol shouted, pushing her way past her husband. "Marissa Keane! She works for the government here! She's a senior clerk! I am going to have all of your jobs!"
A crisp, cold voice resonated from the elevator bank behind them. "My title is Deputy United States Marshal, Carol. And no, you aren't going to have anyone's job."
The family spun around.
Standing in front of the elevators was Assistant United States Attorney Richard Sterling, accompanied by Senior Deputy Vance. Sterling was dressed in an immaculate charcoal three-piece suit, carrying a thick leather litigation binder.
Arthur adjusted his jacket, puffing out his chest. "Are you the prosecutor? Good. I’m Arthur Keane. This whole thing is a ridiculous family dispute. Marissa had a panic attack from London and called in a false police report. Paige had full permission to stay at that penthouse."
Prosecutor Sterling pulled a digital recorder from his pocket, pressed play, and held it up.
The lobby echoed with Paige’s recorded voice from six hours earlier: "Mom and Dad said this has gone on long enough. You don't need that huge place all to yourself. We're moving in tonight."
Followed immediately by Carol’s voice: "Good. Once you've been there a few weeks, Marissa won't have the heart to throw the children out."
Carol froze. Her face drained of color as the words bounced off the marble pillars of the federal building.
"Where... where did you get that?" Carol stammered, her voice suddenly small.
"That audio was captured by the security array inside Deputy Marshal Keane's penthouse," Sterling said flatly. "It proves premeditation, civil trespass, criminal conspiracy, and unlawful attempt to establish squatter's rights on federal property."
Greg, Paige's husband, stepped forward nervously, sweating through his polo shirt. "Look, man, I didn't know about the office door! I just thought we were saving rent money! Paige said Marissa was onboard!"
"Mr. Miller," Sterling said, eyeing him with deep professional disgust. "Your wife took a fireplace poker to a reinforced door protecting classified federal fugitive case files. She triggered an automated threat response. That isn't a 'family dispute.' That is a felony attack on federal infrastructure."
Arthur tried one last desperate tactic, leaning in close to Sterling's face, shaking his finger. "Listen to me! Marissa is my daughter! Everything she owns was bought with opportunities I provided! She owes us! We are going to that penthouse, and we are staying there until this is sorted out!"
Deputy Vance stepped directly into Arthur's space, towering over the older man. "Mr. Keane, if you step within five hundred feet of Deputy Keane’s residence, you will be arrested on sight under Title 18, United States Code, Section 1505—Obstruction of Justice. Furthermore, Deputy Keane has officially revoked all power of attorney, emergency contact authorizations, and family financial access granted to any member of your household."
"She can't do that!" Carol cried out, tears of anger spilling down her cheeks. "We are her parents!"
"She just did," Sterling replied, opening his binder and pulling out three official court documents. "These are Grand Jury subpoenas. Arthur Keane, Carol Keane, Gregory Miller—you are officially required to produce all financial records, bank statements, and communications between yourselves and Paige Miller regarding the planned seizure of the Arlington penthouse."
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Greg gasped. "Subpoenas?! For what?!"
"For conspiracy to commit grand larceny and wire fraud," Sterling said coldly. "Have a good day, gentlemen. You'll be hearing from the grand jury by Friday."
