Chapter 6 - DEPOSITIONS AND DECEPTIONS
Z
Three months later, the air in the conference room of Marcus Hale’s law firm was frigid, both in temperature and atmosphere. It was deposition day.
I sat at the polished mahogany table, dressed in a sharp, tailored navy suit. I hadn't seen Caleb, Diane, or Brooke in person since the day on the porch. When they walked in, the physical toll of the last ninety days was jarringly evident.
Caleb looked as though he hadn't slept in a month. His tailored suits had been replaced by a wrinkled button-down shirt that hung loosely on his frame. He had lost weight, and his arrogant swagger was gone, replaced by a nervous, twitchy energy. Diane looked equally diminished; her roots were showing gray, her designer bags were absent, and the haughty lift of her chin had completely collapsed. Brooke refused to make eye contact with anyone, staring at the floor as she took her seat.
They were represented by a weary-looking public defender-type attorney who clearly knew he was holding a losing hand.
Marcus started with Caleb.
For the first hour, Caleb tried to stick to the script he had fabricated in his head. He claimed the diverted funds were "standard executive bonuses." He claimed the new LLC was a "subsidiary" designed to protect our assets. He claimed he had every right to manage the money however he saw fit because he was the "head of the household."
Marcus let him talk, nodding patiently, before slowly, methodically dissecting every lie with a piece of paper.
“Mr. Davis,” Marcus said, sliding a document across the table. “You claim the $140,000 transfer was for a subsidiary. Yet, the operating agreement for New Horizons Construction lists you as the sole proprietor, with no legal connection to the joint company you share with my client. Can you explain why your wife’s name was deliberately excluded from the incorporation documents?”
Caleb stammered, his face flushing. “It was... it was an oversight. An administrative error.”
“An error?” Marcus raised an eyebrow. “Like the error of expensing your mother’s Botox injections as ‘structural maintenance’?” Marcus slid another invoice across the table.
Caleb looked down at the paper, his jaw clenching. He shot a furious glare at his mother. Diane sank lower in her chair, coughing nervously.
But the real turning point came when Marcus turned his attention to Brooke.
Brooke was young, entirely dependent on her brother’s grift, and absolutely terrified of going to jail. Marcus knew this, and he played her perfectly.
“Ms. Davis,” Marcus began gently. “We have records of $45,000 paid to your LLC for ‘strategic consulting.’ Can you provide the court with any deliverables? A report, an email, a memo, anything that proves work was actually performed?”
Brooke’s hands were shaking so badly she had to clasp them in her lap. “I... I gave verbal advice.”
“Verbal advice,” Marcus repeated dryly. “For $45,000. That’s very impressive. Tell me, Ms. Davis, did you know that your brother was planning to drain the company accounts and abandon his pregnant wife?”
“Objection, argumentative,” Caleb’s lawyer mumbled, though he sounded like he didn't even believe it himself.
Marcus ignored him, leaning closer to Brooke. “Ms. Davis, the district attorney is currently reviewing this file for wire fraud charges. If you knowingly participated in a scheme to defraud the company, you are looking at federal prison time. However, if you were misled by your brother... if he forced you to participate...”
It was a masterstroke of psychological pressure. Brooke cracked like a fragile pane of glass.
“He told me to do it!” Brooke burst out, tears streaming down her face. She pointed a shaking finger at Caleb. “He said Claire had too much money and wouldn't notice! He set up the LLC for me! He did the transfers! I didn't know it was illegal, he said it was family money! Please, I don't want to go to jail!”
“Brooke, shut your mouth!” Caleb roared, slamming his hands on the table and half-standing.
“Mr. Davis, sit down,” the court reporter warned sternly.
Diane burst into loud, theatrical sobs. “My babies! What have you done, Caleb? You ruined our family!” she wailed, immediately throwing her golden boy under the bus now that her own comfort was threatened.
“You spent the money too, Mom!” Caleb screamed back at her, his composure entirely destroyed. “You begged me for that car! You begged me for the club membership! Don’t act innocent now!”
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I sat there in total silence, watching them tear each other apart. The family that had mocked me, used me, and planned to leave me destitute was now cannibalizing itself in a sterile conference room.
Marcus caught my eye and gave a small, barely perceptible nod. It was over. We didn't even need to go to trial.
