CONFIRMEDthe two witness statements in the criminal file, read against BAM’s own sworn filings
The two witness statements Bricks & Minifigs submitted in Provo case 25PR26279, both now read publicly; the company’s own verified complaint and incident log; and the search warrant Detective Medina Dore swore.
In its own video, Bricks & Minifigs put its evidence against the journalist on the screen in two words: “two witness testimonies.” Both statements are now public. Neither one describes a crime. One is a man who overheard grievances in a smoke shop; the other is a man who opened his office door, was asked how to get a LEGO collection back, and watched the visitors leave when asked. The word “extortion” does not appear in either witness’s account. It is added afterward, by the company’s lawyers in a lawsuit and by the detective in a sworn warrant, and the detective’s own body camera says, of this same case, that there “really was no extortion code that would fit.” The extortion charge was never filed. This is the entire evidentiary base of the case that opened a reporter’s Google account, and it is empty.
The framing is not this site’s; it is the company’s. In the third episode of Bricks & Minifigs’ own series about the dispute, a screen laying out the two sides reduces the company’s case to a single line: “Ammon’s Evidence: Two witness testimonies,” set against “Ben’s Evidence: All the raw footage of our interaction.” The discovery folder in the same footage confirms the count: two statement files, one named for each witness, alongside a single door-camera video. So the universe of testimony the company assembled to support an attempted-extortion theory is fully known, and it is exactly two documents. Both have now been read aloud in public. Here is what each one actually says.
The first statement is from Adam Brimhall, by several accounts the son of the company’s chief financial officer, Reed Brimhall. It describes an encounter on the morning of Friday, December 5, 2025, at a head shop in Orem, where Brimhall says he happened to overhear a customer talking to the clerk about the Salem campaign against the company. In his telling, the customer described things already done: a parody of the store’s “Buy, Sell, Trade” sign, some banners, what the statement’s author calls “vandalism.” The grievance the customer gave was that a store had “stole LEGOS from a dying old man” and that they were “taking matters into their own hands to make it right.”
Read against the crime the company was building, three things sink it. It contains no extortion, no demand, and no money at all. The only conduct described is protest and public signage, which is speech, and the single word carrying any criminality, “vandalism,” is the declarant’s own label for a window-sign parody. And the grievance itself, “stole from a dying old man,” “make it right,” is a claim of right, a belief that something owed is being recovered, which is the recognized answer to a theft-by-extortion charge, deposited into the case file by the company’s own witness. The statement is also unsigned and unsworn, with a closing line conceding that everything outside its few quotation marks is paraphrase and “not verbatim.” It carries no oath and no perjury exposure. It is a memo.
The one forward-looking detail in it, that the visitors planned to “go after a food truck cult,” has since been explained by the other man who was there. The customer in the smoke shop was Sheldon Norcross, who has identified himself publicly and given his own account. By his telling, the man who wrote the statement approached him posing as a fan, the encounter “completely sketched me out,” and the food-truck line was something he made up on the spot to brush the man off. In his words, “he lied and I lied.” The single non-public, operational-sounding detail in the company’s first witness statement is, by the speaker’s own public account, a fiction he invented to end a conversation with a stranger who was hiding why he was asking.
The second statement is from Tuker Spanbauer, at the time an employee inside the company’s Provo operation, which is why the account speaks of “our office building” and “our IT specialist.” It describes the office visit that the extortion theory rests on, and it describes a non-event. Two young men were at the door; Spanbauer went and opened it and let them into the lobby. They asked, in his words, “how they should go about getting their lego collection back” from a store, explaining that they had “loaned their lego collection to a store owner to sell for them and that the store owner wasn’t giving their collection back.” The company’s IT specialist told them the locations were independently owned and that this was not the place for the complaint, and asked them to leave. They pressed with more questions, were asked again, and, in the statement’s own words, “relented and left,” exiting by the elevator.
That is the office extortion. Entry was by invitation, the visitors having been let in by the employee. The purpose was a process question, how to get a consigned collection back, which is again a claim of right. The worst conduct recorded is that they “continued to ask questions in a confrontational way.” There is no threat, no ultimatum, no mention of the owner, no mention of recording as a weapon, and no refusal to leave. And then the keystone. The company’s verified complaint, filed under oath, says the journalist “demanded $200,000 and stated that failure to pay would result in reputational harm and that matters would become ‘very bad.’” Here is where that number comes from, in the words of the company’s own office witness:
“I asked how much the collection was worth and they said $200,000.”
The $200,000 was not a demand. It was the answer to the witness’s own question about what the collection was worth, and the figure matches the collection’s publicly claimed value. The single dollar amount that the sworn complaint presents as the substance of an extortion demand enters the record, in the account of the company’s own witness, as a valuation he solicited. This statement is also unsigned and unsworn, emailed to Detective Dore three weeks after the visit.
Set the four documents in order and the manufacture is visible. The same December event is restated four times, and the crime words appear only after the witnesses have had their say.
Notice what the warrant concedes even as it charges. It describes the visitors as “demanding what they believed were” owed, and as making demands “in relation to a civil suit.” A demand for what you believe you are owed, connected to a civil lawsuit, is the definition of a claim of right, written into the affidavit that swears it is extortion. The witnesses said there was no crime. The incident log, five months later, called it harassment. The complaint added extortion. The warrant made it the lead charge. Nothing new was discovered between the bottom rung and the top; the same December non-event was simply described in graver words each time it was rewritten by someone further from the room.
Two public facts close the gap. The first is the detective’s own body camera. On December 10, 2025, working this case, Detective Dore is recorded telling the complaining company that there “really was no extortion code that would fit” the situation. She said it before she swore, two months later, that there was probable cause to believe in attempted theft by extortion. The second is the docket. The felony extortion theory that the warrant used to open the journalist’s Google account was never charged. What was eventually filed against him is two misdemeanors, disorderly conduct and criminal trespass. The crime that justified the search does not exist in the case that followed it.
The two statements are notable for a third reason: for who did not give one. By the office witness’s own account, the person who did all the talking to the visitors, delivered the “independently owned” script, and issued the actual requests to leave was the IT specialist, not the witness who wrote the statement. That most-involved person gave no statement at all. Neither did anyone describe the second office visit, the one on the day the charged conduct is said to have happened. And the company’s own thirteen-page incident log, which lists dozens of entries, contains no row treating the office visit as its own incident; the office visit appears only as timing context inside the smoke-shop entry, whose “action taken” admits the report was “given to investigating officer after the suspect and cohorts made an appearance at BAM Franchising corporate office.” By the company’s own record, the conversation in the smoke shop went unreported until the men showed up at headquarters, and only then became evidence. The log even misdates it, stamping the December 5 encounter as December 11 and calling that a Friday, which it was not.
The connection to everything else on this site is direct. A reporter’s email was searched on a felony extortion theory. Underneath that theory, where the evidence is supposed to be, the company placed two witness statements. Read in full, they describe two men asking questions and being asked to leave. The crime was added on the way up.
The fair counterpoint. Witness statements are not supposed to state legal conclusions, and it is the job of lawyers and investigators, not lay witnesses, to characterize conduct as a crime; the absence of the word “extortion” in a witness’s account does not by itself prove there was none. A company is entitled to describe events in the light most favorable to its case, and a prosecutor, not this site, will decide what the facts support. Both witnesses may have described their encounters accurately and still have missed conduct that happened elsewhere, on the phone, in messages, or during the second visit that no statement covers, and the door-camera video the company also holds has not been published here. An officer’s offhand remark on a body camera that no code “fit” is not a legal ruling, and charging decisions turn on more than a single recorded sentence. The kinship of one witness to the chief financial officer is reported here at the level it has been established, which is corroborated, not proven by a single record. Everyone named is presumed innocent, the witnesses included; nothing here accuses either witness of lying, and the more natural reading is the opposite, that they described real, ordinary encounters, and that the distance between those encounters and “attempted theft by extortion” was created above them. What this entry asserts is only what the four documents say when placed side by side.
The warrant that sits on top of these two statements is the secret search warrant Detective Dore swore for the journalist’s Google account, on the charge that was never filed. The voice on the department’s phone line about this same case is examined here. The pattern of turning a business dispute into a police matter is The takedown, and every named person and entity, with its grade, is in the cast.
Sources, all public: the two witness statements in Provo criminal case 25PR26279, submitted by Bricks & Minifigs and both read aloud in public streams; the company’s own verified complaint of May 27, 2026 (Utah case 260402353) and its Exhibit I incident log; the Provo Police Search Warrant and Affidavit No. 3327741, sworn by Detective Medina Dore on February 10, 2026; Detective Dore’s recorded body-camera statement of December 10, 2025, as published in Bricks & Minifigs’ own Episode 3; and Sheldon Norcross’s public account of the smoke-shop encounter on his own channel. The “two witness testimonies” framing is the company’s own, shown on screen in its Episode 3. This entry compares those documents; it draws no conclusion about any person’s intent.
The BAM Map is independent reporting on matters of public concern. Nothing here is a finding of any person’s guilt; the criminal charges referenced are unadjudicated and every defendant is presumed innocent. Sources are linked so readers can check the record. · Home · Map · The law · Bodycam