Chapter 7 - Depositions and the Exposed Lies
Z
Two weeks after Clara’s successful surgery—which went flawlessly, removing the entire cancerous mass with zero complications—the legal machinery of the New York State Judicial System moved into its final, devastating phase. Clara was now recovering comfortably in a peaceful lakefront rental cabin Andrew had secured, surrounded by fresh mountain air and round-the-clock home nursing care. Her strength was returning rapidly, her hair was beginning to sprout as fine soft fuzz, and her spirit was higher than it had ever been.
Meanwhile, inside Conference Room 3B of the Warren County Supreme Courthouse, a very different scene was unfolding.
Today was the formal pre-trial deposition of Margaret Vance and Evelyn Vance. Under New York criminal and civil procedure, the defense had requested a formal opportunity to question the prosecution's key witness—Andrew Vance—under oath, in a desperate attempt to find discrepancies in his testimony before the formal criminal trial began.
Andrew sat at the head of the long glass conference table, flanked by Sarah Vance and Prosecutor Thomas Sterling. Across from them sat Margaret and Evelyn, both dressed in navy blue county jail jumpsuits, their hands uncuffed for the deposition but heavily guarded by two armed bailiffs standing at the door. Beside them sat a new, court-appointed criminal defense attorney, Arthur Pendelton, a tired-looking veteran attorney who clearly looked like he would rather be anywhere else in the world.
A court stenographer sat at the end of the table, her fingers poised over her typing machine.
"We are on the record," Attorney Pendelton began, leaning forward and adjusting his glasses. "This is the deposition of Andrew Vance in the matter of New York State v. Margaret Vance and Evelyn Vance. Mr. Vance, I will jump straight to the point. You claim that you sent over two hundred thousand dollars to your mother over a four-year period with the specific legal expectation that it was to be used for home renovations and personal savings?"
"That is correct," Andrew said, his voice smooth, clear, and unshakeable. "Every monthly transfer was accompanied by digital memo tags specifying 'Home Construction Escrow' or 'Clara Support Fund'."
Pendelton pulled out a stack of bank receipts. "Isn't it true, Mr. Vance, that your mother provided housing, food, and basic shelter for your wife, Clara, during your entire four-year absence?"
Andrew looked past Pendelton, staring directly into his mother's cold, sullen eyes.
"My wife was forced to sleep in an unheated, damp basement room on a bare mattress," Andrew stated firmly, every word measured and precise. "She was denied access to the primary kitchen, forced to wash heavy commercial pots outdoors in an unheated utility sink using freezing water, and was deprived of basic nutritional food to the point where she developed acute starvation anemia."
"Objection, lack of foundation—" Pendelton started.
"We have thirty pages of certified medical records from Albany Medical Center documenting acute physical starvation and untreated carcinoma entered as Prosecution Exhibit A, Mr. Pendelton," Prosecutor Sterling interrupted coldly. "Save your objections for the jury."
Pendelton cleared his throat nervously, shifting through his papers. He turned his attention to the land forgery. "Regarding the Warren County land deed... Miss Evelyn Vance claims that Clara Vance voluntarily signed the promissory note to cover her own personal living expenses and debts."
Andrew reached into his leather briefcase, pulling out a high-definition photograph of a notebook page and setting it on the table.
"This is a journal page recovered from Evelyn's bedroom desk during the execution of the search warrant," Andrew said.
Evelyn's eyes widened in horror. She reached out as if to snatch the paper, but the armed bailiff immediately touched her shoulder, forcing her back into her seat.
"Read entry dated August 14th," Andrew instructed quietly.
Prosecutor Sterling picked up the document and read it aloud for the stenographer: "'Clara is getting weaker. She asked for doctor money again. Mom and I agreed we need to get her signature on the Warren County land transfer before she gets too sick to sign. If she refuses, I’ll just trace her signature from her old marriage certificate copy in the filing cabinet. She’ll never know anyway.'"
The court stenographer's fingers flew across the keys, recording every sickening word.
Arthur Pendelton closed his binder, slumped back in his leather chair, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that his clients were completely, irrevocably doomed.
"Evelyn... is this true?" Pendelton whispered, turning to his client with deep frustration. "Did you write this in your personal journal?"
"It was a joke!" Evelyn squeaked, her face turning bright red as she burst into frantic tears again. "I was venting! You can't use my private diary against me! That's illegal! Tell him it's illegal, Mr. Pendelton!"
"It was seized under a legally executed felony search warrant, Miss Vance," Sarah Vance stated calmly. "It is completely admissible as direct evidence of premeditated criminal intent, forgery, and conspiracy."
Margaret, who had remained silent throughout the entire proceeding, suddenly slammed her hands on the glass table, her eyes burning with a terrifying, venomous fury.
"You ungrateful brute!" Margaret screamed at Andrew, her voice echoing loudly through the conference room. "I raised you! I suffered for you! You were supposed to take care of me in my old age! You gave everything to that pathetic, hairless orphan! She tricked you! She poisoned your mind against your own mother!"
Andrew slowly stood up from his chair. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't curse. He looked down at Margaret with a calm, absolute authority that rendered her completely speechless.
"Clara never said a bad word about you for four years, Margaret," Andrew said, his voice cold as winter ice. "Even when she was starving in that basement, even when she was selling her own hair to pay for a biopsy, she never called me to complain because she didn't want to worry me while I was working twelve-hour shifts in Canada. She suffered in silence to protect my peace of mind. Meanwhile, you and Evelyn stole my life's work, mocked her pain, and celebrated her suffering with champagne bought with my blood."
Andrew leaned forward, placing both hands flat on the glass table, inches from Margaret's face.
"You are not a mother," Andrew said softly. "You are a predator. And today, your reign is officially over."
Margaret shrank back into her chair, shivering under the sheer weight of his words. For the first time, she saw that no amount of emotional blackmail, motherly guilt, or loud screaming would ever work on Andrew again. He was completely untethered from her control, an impenetrable wall of strength standing firmly in front of the woman he loved.
"We are finished with this deposition," Prosecutor Sterling announced, gathering his files. "Defense counsel, I suggest you advise your clients to reconsider their plea options. Because when this goes to a jury trial next month, I will be seeking the absolute maximum sentence allowed under New York State law."
Arthur Pendelton looked at Margaret and Evelyn, shaking his head slowly. "I will be drafting a formal plea consultation afternoon, ladies. Because if we step foot inside a courtroom in front of a jury with this evidence... you will spend the rest of your natural lives behind bars."
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As the bailiffs stepped forward, clicking the handcuffs back onto Margaret’s and Evelyn’s wrists to escort them back to their jail cells, Andrew walked out of the conference room into the bright afternoon sunlight. He took a deep breath of fresh mountain air, pulled out his phone, and dialed Clara's number.
"Hey, baby," Andrew said, a warm, genuine smile filling his face as soon as she answered. "It's done. I'm coming home."
