Part 13: The Default in Columbia
## Part 13: The Default in Columbia
The corporate trailer at the Columbia rail spur was completely dark when the federal task force arrived.
By 6:00 a.m. on Saturday, the sky over the manufacturing complex was the color of old tin, the cold wind throwing sheets of red clay dust against the industrial fences.
My father sat on the edge of a plastic bench inside the precinct lobby, his hands zip-tied behind his back, his golf cap gone, his white hair unwashed and wild.
My mother sat in the corner on a vinyl chair, her designer purse replaced by a clear plastic bag containing her cell phone and her medication bottles.
"Amanda," my father whispered as I walked into the room with Julian Vance.
"They are taking the factory lands. The union lawyers said the stock waiver we signed last week didn't clear the criminal liability for the pension siphons."
"You have to tell them it was an internal loan, child. I’m seventy years old. I won't survive a winter in the state penitentiary."
I didn't sit down on the bench across from him.
I stood by the glass partition, looking at the two state troopers who were currently logging his personal effects into the computer terminal.
"You knew about the 2022 transfers, Arthur," I said, my voice dead and flat.
"You let Todd forge my name because you thought a quiet daughter would never have the courage to put her own father in a federal cell."
"You spent twelve years using my grandfather’s name to buy Rachel’s presentation, while the men who work your assembly lines were losing their health coverage."
"We were desperate, Amanda!" my mother shrieked from the corner, her fingers digging into the clear plastic bag.
"The country club was threatening to publish our debt list on the main bulletin board! We couldn't let our friends know we were living on your consulting fees!"
"The presentation is over, Eleanor," I said, turning my head toward the door.
"The country club has already auctioned off your golf cart to pay for the remaining dining room balances."
"The apartment near the canal has been cancelled."
"You are moving into a state-subsidized senior facility in North Columbia on Monday morning."
The lead federal agent stepped into the lobby, carrying a heavy leather brief case stamped with the gold seal of the Treasury Department.
"Arthur Collins," the agent declared, his voice echoing off the concrete walls.
"You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit grand larceny, bank fraud, and the systematic evasion of federal maritime insurance guidelines."
They lifted him from the plastic bench, his leather shoes dragging against the linoleum as they led him toward the rear holding cells.
He didn't look like a chairman anymore.
He looked like an accessory to a crime that had run out of currencies.
May you like
My mother followed him with her eyes, her face completely pale, her hands trembling so violently she dropped the plastic bag onto the floor tiles.
I walked out of the precinct into the cold morning air, the heavy iron doors clicking shut behind me with a final, permanent thud that sounded exactly like freedom.
