Chapter 3 - The Dealership Panic
Fifteen minutes later, the atmosphere inside the Mitchell kitchen had descended into complete, panic-stricken chaos.
My father attempted to argue that as the head of the household, he possessed “implied custodial authority” over any property brought onto his land. Officer Reed shut that argument down instantly with two sentences: “Sir, your daughter is twenty-four years old. In the state of Oregon, taking a vehicle registered to another adult and forging a signature to convey title is Grand Theft Auto.”
Officer Davis looked at me. “Miss Mitchell, where was the transaction processed?”
“Valley Motors on 82nd Avenue,” I answered. “My father told me he sold it to a manager named Greg.”
Officer Davis turned to his partner. “Call dispatch. Have a unit meet us at Valley Motors immediately. We need to secure the vehicle and the original sales documentation before anything is moved or altered.”
When two police cruisers pulled into the parking lot of Valley Motors twenty minutes later, the dealership’s general manager, Greg Miller, was standing near the showroom entrance.
When he saw Officer Davis, Officer Reed, and me stepping out of the police vehicles, his smug, relaxed expression vanished into pure, unadulterated terror.
“Greg Miller?” Officer Davis asked, stepping into the glass-walled showroom office.
“Yes, Officer... what seems to be the problem?” Greg stammered, sweating through his silk dress shirt.
“We are investigating the fraudulent acquisition and sale of a 2015 Toyota Corolla, VIN ending in 8912, processed at this location four hours ago,” Officer Davis declared sternly.
Greg swallowed hard, his eyes darting frantically toward the back lot. “Look, Officers... Richard Mitchell brought the car in this morning. He had the title, he had his ID, and he assured me his daughter gave full authorization under a power of attorney—”
“Did you see Miss Haley Mitchell sign that power of attorney form in your presence?” Officer Reed interjected sharply.
“Well... no, but Richard is an old friend, and he said—”
“Did you notarize a transfer document without the legal owner present?” Officer Davis pressed, pulling out his notepad.
Greg’s face turned ghastly white. He realized in a fraction of a second that his favor for a bowling buddy had just plunged his dealership into a federal auto-fraud and grand larceny investigation.
“I... I need to check the files,” Greg choked out, his hands shaking so violently he could barely open his desk drawer.
He pulled out the original sales folder. Officer Davis laid it flat under the desk light. Attached to the bill of sale was a power of attorney form bearing my name, executed with a crude, traced forgery of my signature and stamped with a fake notary seal from an expired commission.
“This is a forged instrument,” Officer Davis announced coldly. He looked up at Greg. “Where is the vehicle right now?”
“It’s... it’s parked in the detail bay out back,” Greg whispered, dropping into his chair like a man whose world had just collapsed. “We haven't listed it online yet.”
Officer Davis turned to me. “Miss Mitchell, the vehicle is secured as physical evidence in an active felony investigation. Valley Motors will be issuing an immediate cancellation of the purchase agreement, and the eight thousand dollars paid to your father will be seized under a court freeze order.”
Greg looked at me with desperate, pleading eyes. “Haley... please... we can settle this without filing formal charges against the dealership! I’ll pay for a rental car for you! I’ll give you three thousand dollars in store credit!”
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I looked at Greg with the same calm, unyielding expression I had given my father.
“You bought my stolen car using a forged document, Mr. Miller,” I said smoothly. “You can save your store credit for your defense attorney.”
