They passed my townhome, past Nate's, past Dale's, continued 60 yards down the block, and stopped directly in front of 22B Pinecrest Ridge Drive: the Hayworth residence.
Deputy US Marshal Vance Pruitt stepped out first. He was built like a man who had been opening doors professionally for 20 years: broad, calm, wearing a navy windbreaker with Deputy U.S. Marshal in yellow across the back. Two additional marshals flanked him: one carried a bolt bag; the other carried a stack of documents in a clear plastic sleeve.
They walked up the Hayworth driveway in formation. Pruitt knocked on the front door: three measured knocks, the kind of knock that doesn't need to be loud because the authority behind it fills in the volume.
Glenn opened the door. He was wearing a bathrobe. His face went from confused to terrified in the time it took Pruitt to hold up the court order.
"Mr. Hayworth, I'm Deputy Marshal Vance Pruitt. I'm executing a federal asset seizure order issued by the United States District Court for the District of Colorado. This property is being sealed pending the outcome of federal proceedings. You have 30 minutes to collect personal necessities: medications, identification documents, and clothing for 72 hours. You may not remove electronics, financial records, or any items identified on the attached exhibit."
Glenn didn't move. His mouth opened; nothing came out.
Brenda appeared behind him. She was wearing a velour tracksuit and the expression of a woman who had just been told the universe had rules that applied to her personally.
"You can't do this," she said. "This is my home."
Pruitt didn't argue. He handed her a copy of the order. "Ma'am, the order is signed by a federal judge. Compliance is not optional."
The next 30 minutes were the most satisfying half-hour of my military career, and I have been to some satisfying places.
The marshals worked methodically: a locksmith—their locksmith, a federal contractor—changed every lock on the Hayworth residence: front door, back door, garage entry, side gate. Every single point of entry received a new deadbolt, a new key cylinder, and a federal seal.
Yellow evidence tape went up across each doorframe: bright, unmistakable, the kind of tape you see on the evening news. Each strip bore a printed warning: Sealed by order of the United States District Court. Do not tamper. 18 U.S.C. Section 1036.
Federal seizure notices—laminated, waterproof, signed by the clerk of court—were affixed to the front door, the back door, and the garage. Each notice listed the case number, the judge's name, and the statutory authority.