I stood on the tarmac, the sun casting long shadows as the wind tugged at my shirt. The aircraft door closed swiftly behind me, sealing my son and his wife inside with secrets I was only beginning to unravel. My heart pounded against my ribcage like a caged bird desperate for escape, while the attendant’s words echoed in my mind. “Pretend you’re sick.” It was a performance I had to deliver convincingly, and the stakes couldn’t have been higher.
Barely understanding what had just transpired, I was whisked away to a small room in the airport where a security officer and a sympathetic airline manager sat me down. Their faces were a mixture of relief and concern, an odd cocktail that only added to my confusion. I was offered a glass of water, and as I sipped, I tried to steady my racing thoughts.
The officer started to speak, his voice measured and calm. “Sir, we’re aware that this is an overwhelming situation. However, there’s something you should know. We’ve been tracking your son’s financial activities for some time now. The plan to bring you to Las Vegas was part of a larger scheme.”
