The Volunteer

"Good afternoon, gentlemen, thank you for meeting with me today," I said, as we proceeded to get comfortable in their conference room.

I was then introduced to the five guys who I had asked to be at the meeting. Mr. Thomas Jones was the senior accounts manager for Barker's investment firm, and obviously the leader of the group. Next to him was their claim adjuster Allen Young. Off to the left sat Lewis Randolph, Baker's top IT geek, and last, but certainly not least, was Bill Murphy, Baker's head of security, and the man who built the case against Melody. This was certainly going to be one very interesting meeting.

"Mr. Foster, you said that you had a matter of substantial monetary importance to discuss with us," Mr. Jones asked.

"That is correct, sir, I have recently come across some new information which I would like to share with you regarding Melody Farnsworth," I said.

"Son, that case was settled months ago," Mr. Jones told me.

"You convicted the wrong person, Melody is innocent," I stated with conviction.

"I can assure you, son, that regardless of whatever lies she has been feeding you, she most certainly is guilty, I should know, as I am the one was built the case against her," Mr. Murphy replied.

"Excuse me for saying so, sir, but you didn't do shit. I came up with so much proof that supported her innocence; I started to wonder if you weren't in on the attempt to frame her yourself. I have since revised that theory, as I could not come up with any link between you and the real culprits," I answered back sternly.

"This is bullshit, Tom, why are we even here wasting our time with this kid in the first place," Mr. Murphy asked.

"I agree, Bill," Mr. Jones replied before turning to me and saying, "Mr. Foster, I think we are done here," he said with a gruff demeanor.

"On the contrary, gentlemen, we are just getting started, that is if you ever want to see your eighty-nine million dollars again," I threatened.

"You don't even know how much was stolen. Miss Farnsworth took eighty-seven million, not eighty-nine," Mr. Young corrected me, speaking for the first time since our introduction.

"For a claims adjuster, you of all people should know how fast interest can accumulate, especially when we are talking about that much cash," I replied.

"So you're saying that she has it stored in a bank somewhere?" Mr. Jones asked.

"No, you obviously weren't listening. She has no idea where the money went, or who set her up in the first place, but I do," I told him.

"OK, so where is it then," Mr. Murphy asked.

"Not so fast, guys, we have a few things to settle before I hand out that information," I told them.

"Don't worry, if you can help us recover the missing funds you will get the $500,000 reward money," Mr. Jones assured me.

"No I won't! The money is to go to Miss. Farnsworth for all the shit you have put her through, that is, of course, after you help me get her released from prison. By the way, I don't just want her conviction overturned, I want to completely expunge her record of any wrong doing, is that understood?" I asked sternly.

"This is ridiculous, how can we be assured that you even know where the money is to begin with?" Mr. Murphy asked.

"Here is the account and routing number to a bank in Switzerland. I'm sure you can verify for yourself that the money is in there. I know you won't be able to transfer any funds without the user name and password, and I am holding onto that information until we reach an agreement," I told them.

It looked like Mr. Young was about to shit his pants when he came back to the room and confirmed that eighty-nine million in change was indeed sitting in the account I had provided. This was by far the closest any of them had ever been to recovering the missing funds.

"OK, Mr. Foster, what exactly do you want?" Mr. Jones asked.

"First of all, sir, please call me Ryan, Mr. Foster is my father, secondly, in addition to what I have already stated, I want complete and total amnesty for myself regarding any illegal actions I may have taken to obtain the evidence I am prepared to present to you," I told them.

"That would be up to the district attorney," Mr. Harris informed me.

"I realize that, but since she refused to come to this meeting, I figured that I could get you gentlemen up to speed on what I discovered first, and then it would be easier to convince her to get on board with this as well," I told them.

"Alright Mr. Foster, I mean Ryan, we are ready to listen," Mr. Jones said.

"First of all, I need to make a confession. I am a computer hacker, and without trying to brag about my abilities I would have to say that I am very good at it," I told them.

"Ok Ryan, I can relate to what you are saying, but how does that affect Miss. Farnsworth's case?" Louis Randolph asked.

"These are the instructions on how to design a very unique type of hacking device that when connected to someone's computer will not only send information back to the owner of the device without being detected, but will also let someone else completely take over the affected machine making it seem like the instructions were coming directly from the machine itself. A parts list of everything needed to build such a device is on the second page. Here is a list of the items sent by various retailers to a post office box opened by Mr. Wallace about a month before the money disappeared from Melody's clients' accounts. You will notice that every part on the list was delivered just days from of one another," I pointed out.

"How can we be sure these lists are authentic?" Mr. Jones asked.

"That is why I requested Mr. Randolph's presence here at this meeting, so he could confirm everything I show you," I tell you.

"Even if what you're saying is true, it proves absolutely nothing," Mr. Murphy said.

"On its own, you are correct, but combined with some of the other evidence I have gathered, I have no doubt that before this meeting is over all of you will feel as I do, that Miss. Farnsworth is completely innocent in this matter," I replied.

"So who do you think is responsible for taking the money?" Mr. Jones wanted to know.

"It was actually a joint venture between both Harvey Wallace, who was Melody's boyfriend at the time, and another woman who works here by the name of Sherry Smithfield," I said.

"That is ridicules, I checked both these people out myself, and not only was I unable to find them guilty of any wrongdoing outside of a traffic violation, but I found no evidence what so ever to suggest that they even knew one another," Mr. Murphy replied.

"You obviously didn't dig deep enough. Did you know that they were high school sweethearts?" I asked.

"That is not possible. They didn't even attend the same school together, and lived in different cities," Mr. Murphy told me.

"That may be true, but here is a copy of their prom picture. Do you recognize anyone?" I asked, smiling.

"This can't be, how did they even meet?" Mr. Murphy wanted to know.

"Well according to this genealogy report, Sherry's parents lived right next door to Harvey's grandparents. I would say it is likely that they met while he was visiting them," I suggested.

"Even if they did know each other, that doesn't prove that they stole the money," Mr. Jones stated.

"Well, guys, since I haven't even scratched the surface of what I uncovered, you may want to have lunch brought in, because this meeting is going to last a while," I suggested.

"Look, I've had enough of this. We have video evidence that shows Miss. Farnsworth sitting at her desk during the time the money was stolen. How do you plan to explain away that?" Mr. Murphy asked.

"That brings up my next point, sir, have you taken a really good look at your video?" I wanted to know.

"Of course I have, it clearly shows Miss Farnsworth sitting at her desk with her back turned towards the camera during the time that our clients' accounts were being drained from her computer," he stated proudly.

"Let's just take another quick peek at it, shall we. I am sure that you gentlemen won't mind if I plug this into your projector screen, that way we can all see it at once," I suggested, as I proceeded to pull the video up on my laptop.

"How did you get a hold of that video?" Mr. Murphy asked.

"I already answered that, sir, I am a computer hacker, remember," I answered.

"But our server is completely secure," Louis Randolph said.

"Mr. Randolph, you of all people should know that no server is ever completely secure. I admit you have it locked down fairly well, but you would have to close off a few more ports before I would consider it a challenge, and even then I could still get past your security systems, it would just take me a little longer, that's all," I said, completely shocking the poor IT manager, who thought his system was nearly impenetrable.

"OK, gentlemen, let's get back on track for a bit. Can we all agree that this is the video shot on the day the money disappeared from your clients' accounts?" I asked.

Once they all affirmed this, I ran the file through one of my video enhancing programs focusing on a spot where light was bouncing off of a glass door. When I zoomed in you could clearly make out the mirror image of Melody's reflection.

"Shit, she's eating lunch, her monitor isn't even on!" Mr. Murphy exclaimed.

"That's right, and if you continue watching, you will see that she never even turns it back on until after she finishes eating, which, by the way, is after the money transfer took place," I said.

"I can't believe we had this video the entire time and no one ever noticed this," Mr. Jones said stunned.

"If you think that's unbelievable, just wait till you see this next part, I replied.

I switched to the next video clip, where Sherry Smithfield came into Melody's office and conveniently spilled her soda all over the floor. Naturally, Sherry bent down on her hands and knees trying to quickly clean up the mess she made, while Melody ran to the ladies room to get some extra paper towels. I zoomed in once again as the camera caught Sherry reflection, and we all watched her remove some type of electrical device from Melody's computer and stick it in her purse.

"Just in case you are wondering, gentlemen, I also have the clip of Miss. Smithfield planting this device as well. It seems the poor woman can be quite clumsy at times," I told them.

"I'll admit that on the surface this evidence appears to be quite damaging, but how can we be certain what the device actually was. I mean, for all we know, it might have just been an MP3 player?" Mr. Murphy suggested.

"Well, this is where things start to get complicated. How much do any of you know about cellphones and satellites?" I asked.

"I once worked installing satellite TV, so I would say I am quite versed on the subject," Mr. Randolph stated.

"Good, then you are aware that phone signals are bounced off of satellites and beamed to their desired locations?" I asked.

"Of course I am, but how does that pertain to this case?" he wanted to know.

"Melody's ex-boyfriend, Harvey Wallace, keeps a laptop in a locker at the subway station. I discovered this when I was tailing him earlier this week. After retrieving it from his hiding place he proceeded to the nearest McDonalds, where he not only had lunch, but accessed his account to check on the money. As I recorded him doing this, I hacked into their non-secure router and copied everything I could from his hard drive before he terminated the connection. It was when I reviewed his internet history that I came across the plans for the hacking device I gave you earlier. As you can see, the reason it is so effective is that it uses a nearly untraceable Tracfone data account to connect to its host," I explained.

"So if it is untraceable, how does that help us recover the stolen money?" Mr. Jones asked.

"I didn't say that it was untraceable, I said it was nearly untraceable. You see, sir, cellphone signals not only are beamed off of cell towers, they also bounce off of each other. Does everyone here understand how sonar works?" I asked.

"Of course I know how sonar works. You are talking to an ex-marine, son," Mr. Jones replied.

"Good, then you are aware that pulses are sent through the water, and when they bounce off of something it can be determined not only the size of the particular object, but how far away it is as well?" I explained, mainly for the benefit of the other gentlemen.

"That is an adequate description, son, but how does it pertain to this situation?" Mr. Jones asked.

"Well, sir, cellphones can work pretty much the same way as sonar. I may not be able to trace a TracFone signal because it is tied to a usage card rather than a person's account; however, if the signal bounces off of a contract phone, I can trace that and find out not only whom the phone belongs to, but how far away it is from the other device as well. If the contract phone happens to be a smart phone with GPS capabilities, I can reverse the signal and trace it back to the phone in question," I explained.

"I seriously doubt that you could do something like that," Mr. Randolph challenged.

"Well I can prove it to you, sir, but, I have a few more pieces of evidence to present before I do," I stated.

"I would like to hear about this so called evidence as well," came a voice from the doorway.

"Oh, please come in, Mrs. Marsh. Gentlemen, this is state's district attorney, Tabitha Marsh."

"Good afternoon, ma'am," I said, standing up and extending my hand to greet her as my dad always taught me to do. "I am glad you could finally join us today," I said sincerely.

"Thank you, Mr. Foster, though from the sound of Mr. Jones' voice, it appeared I didn't have all that much of a choice," she said.

"Well, now that you are here, Ryan was about to explain just how he managed to ascertain certain evidence that the rest of us overlooked," Mr. Murphy said.

"Before I go any further, since a member of the court system is now present, I must once again insist on immunity to protect myself from prosecution," I told them.

"Don't worry, Ryan. Mr. Jones has already informed me of all of your demands over the phone. If you can help us recover the missing money and prove to my satisfaction that Miss. Farnsworth is innocent, as you claim, then I see no problem granting you most of what you requested," she said.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"If you can show me that Miss Farnsworth was not involved with the missing funds, I should have no problem overturning her conviction and getting her released from prison. It is very difficult, however, to convince a judge to completely expunge someone's record, unless you can prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that they are innocent."

"I think with the evidence I have I will be able to do just that, however I am concerned about the methods I used to obtain that evidence," I told her.

"Don't be, Ryan, because I am prepared to grant you full immunity as long as you only used your hacking skills to gather information, rather than alter it," Mrs. Marsh assured me.

"No offence, ma'am, but can I please have that in writing before we continue?" I requested.

"No offence taken, young man," she said, sliding the already signed and notarized document over to me.

We took a few minutes to fill Mrs. Marsh in on what was discussed so far, and get her up to speed on the evidence I had already presented.

"Ok, as I was saying, cellphone signals bounce off of one another much like sonar does. What most people are unaware of is that cellphone companies not only track these signals, but they archive their paths as well, in case there is ever a dispute over usage. I pulled up the archive from this building for the day in question, and discovered that there was a TracFone data signal being sent from within 24 inches of Melody's desk that corresponded with not only the time that the money transfer took place, but also when she was eating lunch as well. I tracked that signal, and found that it bounced off of a smartphone that was only 12 inches away from it. I later determined that phone's owner to be Harvey Wallace. Curiously, I was able to detect another TracFone signal, and again it was within inches of Harvey's smart phone. I started researching the usage of that phone, and I discovered that the vast majority of calls both made and received I could trace to another TracFone user. As luck would have it, this user also had a smart phone, and I was able to determine that it belonged to Sherry Smithfield. This disc will show all the times that the pair used these phones to talk to one another, since they were purchased by Miss. Smithfield with her credit card a month before this incident took place," I told them, handing over the disc.

"How can we be sure these are the phones that Miss. Smithfield purchased, when the stores don't keep track of the phones serial numbers when they are sold?" she questioned.

They may not record the serial numbers, but they do have to scan the activation codes for the phone cards which she purchased along with the phones that day. There is a link showing those cards were used for both phones. By the way, on the day the funds were stolen there was a call to Miss Smithfield's TracFone immediately following the money transfer, and just prior to her little accident in Miss. Farnsworth's office, where she removed the electronic device from Melody's computer. In case you are wondering, that call came from Harvey Wallace's TracFone," I told them.

"That is a very fascinating story, Ryan, but I still don't believe a word of it. Hell, I have been working with computers for the last 25 years, and I can't even do what you suggest," Mr. Randolph challenged.

"I am afraid I am having a hard time swallowing this one myself," Mrs. Marsh admitted.

"If you assure me that I am still under immunity, I would be happy to prove I can do what I claim," I told them seriously.

"And just how do you propose to do that?" she asked.

"Have Mr. Jones go out in the hall and pick one of his employees, but don't bother telling me which one he chooses, as I am sure I will be able to reveal that information to you in due time on my own. Make sure they have a smart phone, and that they take it with them and keep it turned on. Send them to a store to buy a TracFone, and then have them to pick a restaurant and go there for lunch. Tell them to call one of you on your cellphones using the TracFone once they get to wherever they are going, and I will tell you who they are, where they are, and who is sitting next to them. By the way, no tricks like switching cellphones or something. Remember, I am doing this to help you retrieve your missing money and get an unjustly convicted woman out of prison. Please respect that," I requested.

Mr. Jones took me up on my challenge, and we all sat around discussing the case until a call came into his cellphone about twenty minutes later. With Mr. Randolph looking over my shoulder in awe, I quickly determined that the caller was Stephanie Summers, and that she was at Loran's Restaurant on Lexington Avenue. I asked Mr. Jones to tell her that there was a 50 year old gentleman sitting about 15 feet away from her by the name of Jim Preston. Instead of possibly spooking the man, I requested that she walk up and pretend to know him, making up a fake name and claiming that he looked very much like someone she used to know in high school. Mrs. Summers was also around 50 years old herself. We all listened on Mr. Jones's speakerphone, as their conversation took place with predictable, at least for me, that is, results. When she was out of Mr. Preston's earshot, Stephanie wanted to know how we knew where she was and who was beside her. Mr. Jones wisely told her that was not important right now and advised her to finish her lunch, which was on the company's dime, and head back to the office.