MONDAY, AUGUST 7, 2006, 5:15 p.m. The end of a punishing hot afternoon on South Tacoma Way, a four-lane boulevard flanked by car dealerships and payday-loan shops. Inside Bank of America, a squat 1960s building with faux granite siding and floor-to-ceiling windows squeezed between the Budget Signs and Car Trek II used auto lot, teller Jessicah Stotts was about to hand fo...