Chapter 5 - The Deposition of Terror
Z
Forty-eight hours later, the war moved from the cold streets of Grandview Heights into the opulent, glass-walled conference rooms of the Franklin County Judicial Center.
The emergency bail hearings for Walter, Lydia, and Heather had been a absolute disaster for the defense. Given the overwhelming digital evidence, the child psychologist’s official testimony, and Elmer’s catastrophic attempt at a home invasion, the judge had denied bail for Walter and set exorbitant cash bonds for Lydia and Heather.
To make matters worse for the Vance family, my whistle-blower audit had struck my employer like a megaton bomb. Corporate auditors had raided Walter’s logistics company overnight, uncovering a paper trail of systematic fraud, tax evasion, and racketeering that dragged federal prosecutors straight into the case.
Today was the formal civil deposition—the mandatory recorded testimony where Walter and Elmer were forced to sit under oath and answer my legal team’s questions before the divorce and asset division was finalized.
I sat at the long glass table next to Naomi. I wore a sharp, navy-blue tailored suit, my hair styled impeccably, my presence calm, regal, and dangerous. Across from us sat Walter Vance, dressed in a wrinkled orange county jail jumpsuit, flanked by two armed corrections officers. Beside him was Elmer, looking emaciated, eyes hollow, wearing a cheap suit his lawyer had brought him for the proceeding.
In the corner of the room, a digital video camera mounted on a tripod hummed softly, its red recording light blinking like an ominous heart beat.
“This deposition is being recorded for the court,” Naomi declared smoothly, turning her icy gaze toward Walter Vance. “State your full name for the record.”
“Walter Edward Vance,” the old patriarch muttered, his booming voice reduced to a raspy, bitter growl.
“Mr. Vance,” Naomi began, opening a file folder. “On the night of January 14th, did you physically strike my client, Joanna Vance, across the face with enough force to split her lip and knock her into a glass patio door?”
Arthur Sterling, their attorney, cleared his throat aggressively. “Objection to the form of the question. My client was operating under extreme emotional distress due to an ongoing domestic dispute—”
“Answer the question, Mr. Vance,” Naomi cut in coldly, ignoring Sterling entirely. “Did you strike her?”
Walter glared at me across the table, his bloodshot eyes filled with a terrifying, unrepentant hatred.
“She was hysterical,” Walter sneered, leaning forward as far as his wrist restraints would allow. “She was disrespectful in my home. She was shouting at my wife. In my generation, a woman who behaves like an unhinged, disrespectful street thug gets put in her place. I tapped her face to bring her back to her senses.”
“A 'tap' that required four stitches and left a permanent scar,” Naomi noted deadpan. “And while you were 'tapping' her face, were you aware that your wife was in the other room shaving the head of a three-year-old child?”
“That child needed discipline!” Walter spat, slamming his hand down onto the table. “She was raised by a low-class mother with no manners, no bloodline, and no respect for the Vance family name! That girl stole my wife’s gold! She deserved far worse than a haircut!”
“Mr. Vance, please!” Sterling warned urgently, reaching over to grab his client’s arm. “Keep quiet!”
“No, Arthur! Let me speak!” Walter roared, his mask of corporate sophistication completely slipping away, revealing the unhinged, tyrannical monster beneath. He leaned over the table, pointing a shaking finger directly at my face. “You think you’re smart, don’t you, Joanna?! You think because you found some numbers on a server that you can ruin me?! You were nothing when my son brought you home! A nameless, penniless little corporate peasant! We gave you a roof! We let you share our table! And you repaid us by destroying my family!”
I didn’t flinch. I didn’t blink. I simply looked at him with an expression of quiet pity.
“You didn’t give me anything, Walter,” I said, my voice echoing clearly through the small room, perfectly captured by the recording microphone. “I paid for half of that apartment. I paid for my daughter’s food, her clothes, her medical care. And while I was doing that, your son was stealing my hard-earned money to pay for your daughter’s gambling debts and your offshore shell companies.”
“You know nothing about business!” Walter snarled.
“I know enough to know that the federal grand jury returned a twelve-count indictment against you an hour ago,” Naomi added with a lethal, terrifying smile.
The entire room went dead silent. Arthur Sterling dropped his pen. Elmer gasped loudly, clutching his chest.
“What… what did you just say?” Sterling whispered, his face turning paper-white.
“A twelve-count indictment,” Naomi repeated, sliding a freshly stamped document from the United States District Court across the glass table. “Wire fraud, tax evasion, grand larceny, child endangerment, and witness tampering. The Department of Justice has officially frozen all domestic and international assets associated with Walter Vance, Lydia Vance, and the Vance Logistics Corporation.”
Elmer turned frantically to his father. “Dad… Dad, what does this mean?! What about my bail?! What about my house?!”
“It means,” Naomi answered for him, turning her gaze onto Elmer, “that every single cent of your family’s ill-gotten wealth has been seized by the federal government. It means that the high-priced defense lawyers your father promised you can no longer be paid. And it means, Elmer, that you are going to public defense.”
Elmer broke completely. He covered his face with his trembling hands and began sobbing uncontrollably, his weak shoulders shaking violently in his cheap suit.
“Dad… you told me we were safe,” Elmer whimpered like a broken child. “You told me you had everything under control… you told me to let Heather take the money from Louisa’s fund… you said Joanna would never find out…”
“Shut up, you weak, pathetic idiot!” Walter screamed at his own son, his eyes wild with fury. “Shut your mouth!”
“No, Mr. Vance,” Naomi said, standing up and closing her notebook with a sharp snap. “Let him speak. The court reporter caught every single word of that confession.”
Naomi turned to the video camera operator. “Turn off the recording. This deposition is concluded.”
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I stood up, holding my head high, and looked down at the two broken men sitting across from me. Walter was breathing heavily, his face purple with rage, realizing for the first time that his money, his power, and his freedom were gone forever. Elmer was sitting in a puddle of his own tears, completely ruined by his own devotion to a toxic family.
“Goodbye, Elmer,” I said softly. “I’ll see you at the final custody hearing.”
