Get this child and her mess out of my house before the campaign donors arrive, my mother-in-law Margaret barked, pointing a manicured finger at the dark red cranberry stain on her white antique rug.
Leland Brooks, the Galloway campaign’s senior accountant, sat in a sterile interrogation room at the District Attorney’s office. The fluorescent lights hummed, casting harsh shadows on his already pallid face. Across from him sat a stony-faced Assistant District Attorney and a state investigator.
“Mr. Brooks,” the ADA began, his voice calm, measured. “We’re here to discuss the irregularities in the Galloway campaign’s finance disclosures. Specifically, the undisclosed dark money contributions and the unauthorized transfers from the Ellis Family Covenant.”
Brooks shifted nervously in his seat. He knew this was coming. Evan’s desperate call, Margaret’s furious emails – they had all pointed to this moment.
“I can explain,” Brooks started, his voice a reedy whisper. “Mr. Galloway insisted. He said it was family money, within the allowances.”
The ADA slid a stack of documents across the table. They weren’t campaign finance reports. They were faded copies of real-estate notarizations, dating back six years. Specifically, they were documents for several properties owned by peripheral Galloway associates, all involving complex shell corporations and questionable valuations.
“These are real-estate transfers from 2018, Mr. Brooks,” the investigator stated, pointing to a specific seal. “And this is your notary stamp. And your signature.”
Brooks leaned forward, his eyes widening. He recognized the documents. He had notarized them at Margaret Galloway’s insistence, rubber-stamping forms that he knew were legally dubious, involving inflated values and undeclared assets. He had been promised a sizable “consulting fee” for his silence.
“These documents were used to inflate property values for tax evasion purposes,” the ADA explained, his voice losing its calm edge. “And your notary stamp, Mr. Brooks, affixed to fraudulent declarations, makes you complicit. That’s notary perjury, a felony. And a federal offense, given the interstate nature of some of these entities.”
Brooks swallowed hard. Notary perjury. He’d thought it was a minor thing, just signing papers. But the scale of the fraud, combined with the campaign finance violations, was suddenly overwhelming. He looked at his own signature, clear as day on the old documents.
“Where… where did you get these?” he stammered, his eyes darting between the officials.
“Ms. Ellis provided them,” the ADA replied, a faint, chilling smile touching his lips. “Secured them through a private investigator six years ago, as part of her routine due diligence before her marriage. It seems she was quite thorough.”
The air went out of Brooks. Six years. Nora had been gathering evidence, quietly, methodically, for years. He saw the trap closing in around him. He pictured a multi-year federal prison sentence, his reputation shattered.
“What do you want from me?” Brooks asked, his voice cracking.
“Full state’s evidence,” the investigator responded, leaning forward. “Against both Evan and Margaret Galloway. Every transfer, every off-book payment, every encrypted message log. Four years’ worth.”
Brooks stared at the documents, then at the two unblinking faces across the table. He knew Margaret would never forgive him. He knew Evan would scream betrayal. But he also knew the alternative: a cell. He didn’t have a choice. The trap was sprung.
“I’ll give you everything,” Brooks whispered, defeated. “The encrypted messages, the hidden accounts. Everything.”
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