Chapter 5 - The Broadcast
The screen went pitch black.
The ambient jazz music cut out instantly, replaced by a low, rhythmic hum that vibrated through the floorboards.
Albert frowned, turning toward the sound booth with a theatrical laugh. "Ah, technical difficulties! Don't you just love modern technology? Give the techs a second, folks."
He pointed aggressively toward the sound booth, gesturing for the technician to restart the reel. But the technician—a young freelance kid named Leo whom I had quietly handed five hundred dollars and a legal affidavit two hours before the ceremony—was already standing outside the booth, his hands raised in surrender, walking away toward the service exit.
On the 150-inch center LED screen, large white serif text faded in against a stark black background:
*COMMONWEALTH OF PENNSYLVANIA v. DERRICK COLE*
*CASE NO. CR-2018-90412*
*CHARGE: GRAND LARCENY, WIRE FRAUD, IDENTITY THEFT*
A collective gasp went up from the front tables.
Albert’s face froze mid-smile. The color didn't just drain from his cheeks; it collapsed, leaving his skin the shade of wet flour. His eyes bulged as the text vanished and was replaced by a high-resolution, unedited police booking photo.
The man in the mugshot had shorter hair and no designer stubble, but there was no mistaking the hollow, predatory eyes, the crooked bridge of his nose, and the thin upper lip.
Beneath the photo, printed in bold yellow lettering:
**NAME: DERRICK WAYNE COLE**
**ALIAS: ALBERT MONTGOMERY, JULIAN CROSS, LIAM KINCAID**
**STATUS: ACTIVE BENCH WARRANT - JUMPED BAIL OCTOBER 2021**
The ballroom plummeted into absolute, suffocating silence. Nobody breathed. Nobody lifted a fork.
Chloe stood up from the sweetheart table so abruptly that her chair tipped backward, crashing onto the stage. She stared at the screen, her mouth hanging open, her breath catching in her throat like she had swallowed glass.
"What... what is that?" Chloe stammered, her voice shaking violently over the dead quiet. "Albert? What is that?"
"Turn it off!" Albert suddenly shrieked. The suave, refined baritone vanished in a split second, replaced by a high-pitched, feral bark. "Turn the damn screen off right now! Who is doing this?!"
He lunged toward the AV cables running along the skirting of the stage, but before he could rip them out, Button Three kicked in.
The speakers roared to life.
It was an audio recording. The fidelity was crystal clear, captured by a magnetic tap on an apartment balcony three weeks ago:
*"Look, baby, the old man won't budge on the house,"* Albert's unmistakable voice rang through every corner of the room, echoey and relaxed. *"He’s smarter than he looks. But it doesn't matter. The minute the vows are signed, Chloe gets access to the trust her mother left her for her thirtieth birthday. Four hundred grand. Once it hits the joint account, we wire three hundred to the Nassau shell and leave her with the debt."*
May you like
A woman's sultry voice laughed on the tape. *"And what about the wedding? You really going through with the big circus?"*
*"Of course,"* Albert chuckled on the tape. *"Her dumb father is paying for the reception anyway. Let the hillbilly drop fifty grand on a party. It keeps the girl docile until the ink dries. When I’m done with them, they won't have enough money to buy groceries."*
