Chapter 4 - The House of Facades
A sleek black government sedan pulled smoothly onto the curb, parking directly behind the television news van.
A tall man in a navy windbreaker bearing the gold shield of the United States Postal Inspection Service stepped out.
He didn't waste time with pleasantries; he walked straight to Sheriff Vance and handed him a red-stamped warrant.
"Sheriff, we have probable cause for mail fraud, wire fraud, and grand larceny involving federal allotment accounts," Agent Barnes stated.
Richard Parker backed away from the porch, his eyes darting toward their side gate leading to the wooded creek behind the property.
"Richard, don't move an inch," Sheriff Vance warned, unsnapping the leather retention strap on his holster.
My father froze, his shoulders slumping as two deputies flanked him on either side.
"Why did you do it, Dad?" I asked, walking across the lawn until I stood five feet from the man who had raised me.
"Why tell the neighbors, the church, and the entire county that your only daughter was a criminal?"
Richard looked down at his polished leather loafers, unable to meet the medals gleaming on my chest.
"We didn't want the town to know you enlisted, Emily," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the hum of the camera van.
"A daughter joining the infantry didn't fit our standing in the country club."
"And once your mother started collecting the charity donations... she couldn't stop without admitting we were living on debt."
A low roar of outrage swept through the crowd of neighbors who had spent four years weeping for our family’s tragedy.
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"You stole from the church benevolence drive, Richard?" Deacon Thomas shouted from the sidewalk, his fists clutched in rage.
"We held vigils for her soul every Wednesday evening while you were taking Caribbean cruises!"
