From memory, I typed out the ID information they'd given the police that day.
Then I started searching. What turned up was more than I'd bargained for.
Ervin Hansen. Sales director. Married eight years. Son, age six. 1.2 million on the mortgage.
His wife's social media accounts, her contact info—I saved every bit of it.
Plus evidence he'd been billing personal entertainment as company expenses and faking reimbursements for years.
Rodney Chavez. Sales manager. Married five years. Daughter, age three. Wife pregnant with their second.
His wife's family address. His drunk-driving violation record. I found all of it.
Roger Perry. Technical director. Married six years. Twin boys, age four.
Evidence he'd been taking side jobs on the sly and leaking company technical data. I found every last piece.
Everything they cared about most was laid out in front of me.
The sharpest knife in my hand.
I compiled it all into one clean document.
The full video of them harassing me, the evidence of their lies twisting the story online, the screenshots of every sexually degrading rumor they'd spread—all attached.
Then I opened the tip-line inbox for their company's headquarters and sent the file.