AMERICAN HUSTLERS

On a cold, grey, San Francisco afternoon, a notary public is violently mugged. The attacker doesn’t try to get the notary’s phone or wallet. All they seem to want is his notary journal.

In Japan, a mother of two, recently back from a vacation in Hawaii, checks the balance of the bank account she opened while there to find that nearly half a million dollars has been drained from it. She calls the bank, demands to know who transferred all the money out of her account. The bank tells her she did.

At the Scottish National Gallery, a painting hangs on display. The museum staff are completely unaware that 5 thousand miles away a wealthy art collector is convinced he’s just purchased it.

In Puerto Vallarta Mexico, a disgraced philanthropist sits in a prison cell. He’s there because he’s been accused of sexually abusing the same boys his philanthropy was supposed to help. It’s the culmination of a fall from grace that started when his former lover accused him of abuse as well and prevailed in court. Only now, that same lover is the one claiming that the charges in Mexico are lies.

In the desert outside of Palm Springs, a former private eye turned Silicon Valley exec searches the sand for something, anything, that might suggest a gravesite. He’s looking for the body of a murdered man he’s never met but feels an intense connection to. Because he knows if things had gone differently, the body in the shallow grave could have been his.

None of these people know each other yet. Or have any idea that they share one very specific thing in common. Or rather, two.
Kaushal Niroula and Danny Garcia.