Having spent time in Mexico and South America during previous operations, Jack had gained a clear understanding of the harsh realities faced by ordinary people in those regions. He differentiated sharply between those who fled their countries simply seeking a better life in the U.S. and those who left for more opportunistic reasons. He couldn't help but agree with the saying, "Too far from heaven, too close to the United States."
Jack wasn't what you'd call a "bleeding-heart liberal," but he did share some common ground with those perspectives when it came to systemic inequalities. After all, if the U.S. relied on the steady flow of low-cost immigrant labor to maintain its global dominance, it seemed only fair for the country to bear certain responsibilities in return.
Of course, Jack didn't harbor much animosity toward more opportunistic immigrants either. After all, everyone has the right to pursue their idea of happiness and freedom, right? At least, he mused, certain nations weren't pulling stunts like Cuba in the 1980s, when it sent tens of thousands of criminals, mental patients, and misfits disguised as refugees to the shores of Miami.
As for the detention center LaCroix had referred to as "hell," Jack thought it wasn't quite that bad, relatively speaking. At least the place seemed organized, and men and women were separated into different cages. Compared to the horror stories that had surfaced in recent years about border detention facilities, the conditions here in New York City could almost be called "decent."
Outside the detention center, LaCroix, still seething, reached for his phone. Jack quickly stopped him. "If you're planning to call that Austin Stevens guy, don't bother. He'll just feed you bureaucratic nonsense and stall for time.
What we need to do is act fast, before he does something irreversible. Following their 'official procedures' won't get us anywhere."
LaCroix's face flickered with frustration. "So, what's the alternative? Drag him out of that goddamned office and shove a gun down his throat?"
Jack shrugged. "I don't think we'll need to go that far. At the very least, we can get a warrant to search his office. Let's head back to the operations center and regroup."
Back at the operations center, there were some promising developments. Several bleary-eyed analysts and tech specialists had sifted through the secret "10-15" website Jack had mentioned. What they'd found was a treasure trove of vile jokes and comments about immigrants.
One post suggested, "We should stock the Rio Grande with alligators and let the 'wetbacks' be their lunch." Another joked darkly, "One of Texas's specialties is child mummies."
The Rio Grande, Jack noted grimly, was the same river he had waded through while carrying little Isabel on his back. He, too, had once been soaked by the river's waters. As for the so-called "child mummies," the phrase referred to the tragic reality of migrants—many of them children—who collapsed and died from heat and dehydration while trying to cross the unforgiving Texas desert.
When Jack and LaCroix stepped into the operations center, the findings from the website were already displayed on the large screens for everyone to see. Some of the comments were accompanied by crude, malicious memes.
Jubal, pacing in front of the screen, clenched a pencil so tightly it trembled in his hand. His voice, when he spoke, was filled with restrained fury.
"The fact that people like this are federal agents—our colleagues—makes me sick. And these bastards aren't just isolated cases; there's a whole network of them. I don't know about you, but this has pissed me off beyond belief."
Dana Moret stood nearby, her expression dark. While the FBI wasn't responsible for the rot in other agencies, if members of those agencies dared to use their positions to undermine her people, she had no problem retaliating with the full weight of the Bureau.
"Compile a list of real names from that site," she ordered. "Send it to the Office of Professional Responsibility and Homeland Security. I want everyone to know what kind of filth they have working for them."
Her anger was palpable. Homeland Security oversees 22 federal agencies, including the Coast Guard, the Secret Service, and Customs and Border Protection. ICE, of course, was one of them.
When Jubal spotted Jack and LaCroix, his tense expression relaxed slightly. "The ICE supervisor you mentioned—his name is Austin, right?"
"That's right, Austin Stevens. Did you find something?" LaCroix asked, a glimmer of hope lighting up his face.
"We found a photo on the website." Jubal gestured to an analyst, and the screen displayed an image of two shirtless white men holding fishing rods. One of them was unmistakably the ICE supervisor, Austin Stevens.
The photo's caption read, "Me and my buddy Austin at Lake Seminole." The uploader was another ICE agent named Michael Reese. Jubal pointed to the hand gesture both men were making in the photo.
It took Jack a moment to recognize it: the "OK" hand gesture, which in recent years had been co-opted by white supremacist groups to signify "WP," short for "White Power."
"That's not enough for a warrant. No one's going to approve an arrest based on a hand gesture," LaCroix muttered, still restless. "Maybe my original idea was better after all."
Before anyone could respond, Jack's phone rang. The caller ID showed it was Jane Banner. He quickly answered.
"Hey, Jane. What's up?"
"I had a friend at Homeland Security dig through their system," Jane said. "She found something I think might help your investigation."
She sent Jack a photo of a document taken directly from the Homeland Security system. Jack put the call on speaker and displayed the image for everyone to see. It was an authorization file related to the raid on the Island Garden Food Bank.
"Take a closer look," Jane said through the speaker. "The file is dated two weeks ago, and the signature belongs to the previous supervisor, Walden. But my friend noticed something strange: the creation date of the file was just three days ago. I don't think I need to spell out what that means."
Jack understood immediately. "Someone forged this document. They used Walden's computer and credentials to make it look legitimate. And there's only one person who would have access to do that: the current supervisor, Austin Stevens."
"You're a lifesaver, Jane. Thank you so much," Jack said, his voice brimming with gratitude.
The room was abuzz with energy. With this evidence, they could now secure a search warrant for Stevens's office and bring him in for questioning. But Jane wasn't done yet.
"Hold on. There's more. We also found a strange transfer record in ERO's system," she added, referring to ICE's Enforcement and Removal Operations division. "It says a 'John Doe' child was scheduled to be transferred this morning to a detention facility in Ashburn, Georgia."
Jack's instincts kicked in. He turned to Jubal. "Where's Lake Seminole?"
"It's on the border between Georgia and Florida," Jubal replied. LaCroix, who had spent time in the South, nodded in agreement.
One of the analysts quickly pulled up information on Michael Reese, the other man in the fishing photo. "Michael Reese is the head of an ICE-run detention facility in Ashburn, Georgia," she reported.
"Jubal, get the search warrant. Hannah can handle bringing Stevens in. I'll make a few calls to track down that ERO transport vehicle," Dana said, immediately heading to her office.
LaCroix leaned toward Jack's phone. "Jane, thank you. Truly. You've saved my daughter."
"I'm glad I could help," Jane replied warmly, though her tone turned teasing. "Especially for Agent Jack Tavolar."
Jack rolled his eyes, hurriedly ending the call. "We'll talk later, Jane." He glanced around nervously, thankful Hannah wasn't in the room yet.
------------------
If you're enjoying this novel, please check out my new work: I Am Zeus, KING OF GODS ⚡
Your support means a lot! Reading, commenting, or voting with Power Stones helps the story grow and reach more readers. 🙌
------------------
Enjoying the story? Support the author and get early access to chapters by joining my Patre@n!
Find me at: patre@n*com/Mutter
You can read each novel for $5 or get them all for just $15.
Fairy Tail: Igneel's Eldest Son (Chapter 256)
I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 336)
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 542)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 924)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1284)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
[+50 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]
[+5 Reviews = +1 Extra Chapter]