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Our unknown subject is a paperhander who started working on the East Coast. In the last few weeks this unsub has developed a new form of check fraud which I'm calling "the float". What he's doing is opening checking accounts at various banks then chaning the MICR ink routing numbers at the bottom of those checks. Next slide, please. This is a map of the 12 banks of the U.S. Federal Reserve. Slide. MICR scanners at every bank read these numbers at the bottom of the check - slide - and they ship that check off to its corresponding branch.
Carl, for those of us who are unfamiliar with bank fraud you mind telling us what the hell you're talking about?
The East Coast branches are numbered zero-one to zero-six. The central branch is zero-seven, zero-eight so on, so forth.
You mean the numbers at the bottom of a check actually mean something?
All of this was in the report I filed two days ago. If you change a zero-two to a one-two that means a check, which was cashed in New York Federal Branch but it is rerouted all the way to San Francisco Federal Branch. The bank doesn't even know the check has bounced for two weeks, which means our unsub can stay in one place paper the same city over and over again while his checks circle the country.
(as Frank Conners) Your honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this is irrefutable evidence that the defendant is, in fact, lying.
Mr. Conners, this is a preliminary hearing. There is no... defendant. There is no... jury. It's just me. Son... what in the HELL is wrong with you?
She's so stubborn, your mother. Don't worry, I won't let her go without a fight. I've been fighting for her since the day we met.
Dad, out of all those men - you were the one who took her home, remember that.
Two-hundred men sitting in that tiny social hall watching her dance. What was the name of that town?
I didn't speak a word of French, six weeks later she was my wife.
Mr. and Mrs. Abagnale, this is not a question of your son's attendance. I regret to inform you that, for the past week, Frank has been teaching Mrs. Glasser's French class.
Your son has been pretending to be a substitute teacher, lecturing the students, uh, giving out homework, uh. Mrs. Glasser has been ill, there was some confusion with the real sub. Your son held a teacher-parent conference yesterday and was planning a class field trip to a French bread factory in Trenton.
More coffee, sir? (notices paperwork)
Are you a collector?
Captives of the Cosmic Ray, The Big Freeze, Land of the Golden Giants. I've got em all.
What are you talking about?
Barry Allen. The Flash. (walks away)
Wait, kid, kid, kid. You mean like the comic book?
Yeah, the comic book. When he's not The Flash. That's his name, Barry Allen.
Thank you. (cut to Carl using a payphone)
Now get this: he reads comic books. Comic books! Barry Allen is The Flash!
Carl, slow down, slow down. I don't know what the hell you're talking about.
He's a kid. Our unsub is a kid. That's why we couldn't match his prints. That's why he doesn't have a record. Now, I want you to contact the NYPD for every all-points juvenile runaways in New York City. And don't forget the airports. He's been kiting checks all over the country.
But why New York?
The Yankees! He said something about the Yankees!
Brenda, I don't want to lie to you anymore. All right? I'm not a doctor. I never went to medical school. I'm not a lawyer, or a Harvard graduate, or a Lutheran. Brenda, I ran away from home a year and a half ago when I was 16.
Frank? Frank? You're not a Lutheran?
(of the FBI) Carl, how long do I have to work here?
7:15 in the morning, 4:00 in the afternoon, 45 minutes for lunch.
I mean, how long?
Every day. Every day, Frank, until we let you go.
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