A round raised seal sat beside an unreadable signature.

“Somebody vouched for his identity,” Arthur said.

“And they swore you were there to sign this.”

“On the date printed there, I was at Camp Lejeune,” I said.

“There’s a notary stamp right here,” Arthur said.

“The county requires a registered ID number, so all we have to do is…”

He trailed off and took his phone out of his pocket to photograph the seal.

“Who’s the notary who stamped the forged power of attorney?” I asked.