Page 67 of Damian & Jun: Episodes 5-8
“Why?”
“For a title search.”
“His house has a name?”
“No, title as in title of a house. When you buy a house, the title of the house with the county gets put in your name. It’s the piece of paper that says you own a piece of property and what and where that property is.”
She punched in a few coffee shop names, jumping back and forth from social media for his father’s wife and kids. “Well, this is the neighborhood.” Alice pointed to an overhead view of the map. “There’re trees in the yard, so we know it’s not these streets. Let’s print this off, and you can cross the streets off as we go down them.”
Alice was completely serious. She put the map application into street view and walked her way up and down the streets between the school and favorite shopping locations she’d pulled from the family’s posts.
It took an hour. Jun’s neck cramped. On the twenty-fifth street, Alice gave a little scream and pumped her fist in the air. “That’s it, that’s the house.”
“And this is going to give you the address?”
“Maybe.” She used the cursor to move up and down in front of the house. The mailbox for the house was too blurry to read, but the neighbor’s mailbox was clearly visible. She jumped over to a real estate website and entered the neighbor’s address. A map of all the homes and their prices showed up. She clicked on her targeted house and the addresses appeared with a listing that noted the property was not for sale.
“That’s it.” She did a little bounce in her chair. “Write it down.”
Jun followed her direction and read it back to her as she moved over to another computer and put the address into a website for looking up titles.
“Well, damn.” Alice put her palms down on the table and leaned forward. “Damn.”
Jun stood up and moved to stand behind her. “What?”
She pointed to a line on the screen. “The house is in your name, your US name.”
“That’s…” Jun blinked. That made no sense.
“He put the house in your name, Jun. He’s using your identity. Your US one. Jun River.”
Jun moved past her and put his hands on either side of the screen, staring at it as if that would change anything. There, in black and white, was him, a version of him he hadn’t seen since elementary school, linked to owning an entire house.
An expensive house.
But he owned nothing.
“Why did you think to check?” His voice came out strangled. He’d been living his life so long, just doing what he had been told. He was a fool. This slip of a younger person had shown up and figured this out within hours, but he had never even thought to look.
“Call it a hunch,” Alice said. “Tell you what? Let’s do a quick and dirty search on you. I don’t trust these consumer background sites, but they’re worth checking as places to start.”
The results of her search popped up in a few minutes. Jun leaned forward. There was so much on the screen. None of it made sense. “Why do I have a home address listed in Federal Way? I never lived there.”
Alice pointed at her screen. “That’s you, Jun. Supposedly. You’re tied to all of it. Property, phone numbers, associates. Again, I don’t trust these sites completely, but it’s worth running all this down.”
“But I haven’t, they’re not…” Jun took a deep breath. “That’s not me.”
“No, it’s someone using your identity. It’s called identity theft. And no one has an easier time pulling it off than a parent. Especially a parent who knows that their child is never coming back to ask questions.”
Jun ran a hand through his hair.
Alice picked up her phone and dialed, putting it on speaker.
“Pearsen speaking,” a man said. He had a husky alto tone.
“Pearsen, Bak Sahyuk’s primary US residency has a title deed in Jun’s US citizenship name, Jun River. And it looks like that’s not the only property he put in Jun’s name.”
“Interesting. Jump on screen sharing, show me.”
