The room went still.
I tapped the stack of papers beside me—copies of contracts, notes, statements.
“Five veterans that we know of,” I said. “All approached the same way. All offered ‘help.’ All signed documents they didn’t fully understand. And all ended up owing far more than they ever should have.”
Ellen leaned forward slightly, her voice sharp and precise.
“Your contracts aren’t illegal on the surface,” she said. “That’s the clever part. But the structure? The timing clauses? The penalties? They’re predatory.”
David added, “And targeting veterans—especially elderly ones—adds a whole different layer of scrutiny.”
Calvin shifted in his chair.
“This is ridiculous,” he snapped. “Everything I do is documented. Signed. Legal.”
Walter took a slow step forward.
“You sat next to me,” he said quietly. “Bought me coffee. Talked about service like you understood it.”
