My father-in-law pu:shed my eight-months-pregnant wife when she refused to sign his financial papers, then called it a faII. Outside her ICU room, he and her eight brothers laughed at me. “The government desk clerk,” one sneered. Then an Army officer stepped out of the elevator and addressed me: “General Cole, sir.” Their laughter stopped. But the folder he handed me contained something far more threatening to them than my rank—the original records behind page forty.

The next morning, my pregnant wife and I walked into First National Bank carrying a document that appeared to bear her signature. Clara held the folder against her chest as we waited for the branch manager, and I could feel her anxiety growing with every passing minute. Someone had used her name to authorize a financial transaction, and the people most likely to know her personal information were the same relatives demanding that she sign away her rights.

The manager, Mr. Miller, invited us into his office and examined the paperwork. After verifying Clara’s identity, he reviewed the recent activity on her account and discovered something that made him reach for the telephone.

Three days earlier, someone had attempted to withdraw $11,400 using a letter supposedly signed by Clara. The transaction had been stopped because the bank could not complete its verification procedures, but the person presenting the authorization had provided several pieces of her personal information.