“You think you’re safe here?” he sneered.

“You’re hiding behind a criminal.”

Just then, the sound of more sirens echoed down the road, closer this time.

Blue and red lights began to cut through the trees at the edge of the estate.

Three dark sedans with official markings drove through the ruined gates, stopping behind the black van.

Armed men in windbreakers with the letters ‘FBI’ printed on the back quickly exited the vehicles.

“Federal agents! Drop your weapons!” a loud voice commanded through a megaphone.

Derek spun around, his eyes wide with panic as he realized he was surrounded.

“I have the warrant!” Derek yelled, holding up the folder.

“I am executing a legal seizure!”

The lead agent, a tall man with graying hair, stepped forward with his weapon drawn.

“Derek Cole, lower your weapon immediately,” the agent said.

“The warrants in your possession have been flagged as fraudulent.”

“No, they are real!” Derek screamed.

He turned back toward us, his face twisted in desperate anger.

“This is my legacy!” he shouted.

He raised his pistol and pointed it directly at my chest.