Chapter 5 - Depositions and Broken Masks
Z
The conference room on the fourteenth floor of the Huntington Center in downtown Columbus smelled of stale coffee, expensive leather, and industrial floor polish. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the Scioto River cut a murky path through the city, gray under the overcast sky.
Sitting on one side of the long glass table was Daniel, clad in a immaculate navy suit, flanked by two corporate defense attorneys from a high-priced firm. Beside him sat Eric, looking visibly haggard, his collar unbuttoned and his hair unkempt. Across from them sat Marcus, my mother, and me.
A court reporter sat at the end of the table, her fingers poised over the keys of her stenotype machine.
"This is the deposition of Daniel Vance in the matter of Margaret Vance v. Daniel Vance, Eric Vance, and Vanguard Landscaping Solutions LLC," Marcus announced, hitting the record button on a digital audio recorder resting on the glass. "Today is November 18th. State your full name for the record."
"Daniel Arthur Vance," my brother said, his voice flat, his posture rigid.
"Mr. Vance," Marcus began, pulling a sheaf of financial documents from a black leather binder. "Let’s start with the property located at 412 Lorain Road, Cleveland, Ohio. You currently hold sole title to this property under Vance Holdings LLC, correct?"
"Yes."
"And you acquired this property via a quitclaim deed signed by your late father, Arthur Vance, on November 14, 2021?"
"That is correct."
"What was the purchase price paid by Vance Holdings LLC to your father for this property?"
Daniel’s attorney, a sharp-faced man named Vance Miller, gestured with his hand. "Objection as to form. The document speaks for itself."
"He can answer the question," Marcus replied smoothly. "What was the consideration, Daniel?"
Daniel adjusted his cufflinks. "It was a family transaction. My father transferred the property to me with the understanding that I would manage the maintenance, handle the tenants, and oversee the long-term appreciation of the asset."
"So you paid zero dollars?" Marcus asked directly.
"No cash exchanged hands at the time of the signing," Daniel admitted.
"Thank you," Marcus said. "Now, between November 2021 and the present date, you have leased that duplex to two separate tenants. What is the total gross rental income collected by your company from that property over the last four years?"
Daniel shifted in his chair. "I don't have the exact figures in front of me."
"I do," Marcus said, sliding a document across the table. "According to bank records subpoenaed from Chase Bank, Vance Holdings LLC collected one hundred and thirty-four thousand, four hundred dollars in rent over that four-year period. Where did that money go?"
"It was reinvested into the holding company," Daniel said, his chin raised in defiance. "Property management involves significant overhead."
"I see," Marcus said. "And during those four years, how much money did Vance Holdings LLC or you personally contribute to the medical expenses, housing, or daily living costs of your mother, Margaret Vance?"
Daniel’s attorney leaned over and whispered in his ear. Daniel cleared his throat. "My father was primary caregiver during his lifetime. I assisted when asked."
"I'll ask again," Marcus pressed, leaning forward. "Did you transfer any portion of that one hundred thirty-four thousand dollars to your mother for her support?"
"No," Daniel snapped, his calm facade showing its first crack. "Because my father was handling their finances!"
"Your father, who was diagnosed with mild cognitive impairment in July of 2021?" Marcus asked, pulling out a certified medical record from the Cleveland Clinic.
The room went dead silent.
Daniel’s head snapped toward Marcus. "Where did you get that?"
"We subpoenaed your father’s primary care records from the Cleveland Clinic, Mr. Vance," Marcus said calmly. "On July 12, 2021—four months before you had him sign the quitclaim deed transferring the Lorain Road property to your holding company—Dr. Richard Aris conducted a Mini-Mental State Examination on Arthur Vance. His score was 19 out of 30, indicating moderate cognitive impairment. Dr. Aris noted, and I quote: 'Patient demonstrates significant short-term memory deficits, impaired executive judgment, and susceptibility to external influence. Recommended appointment of a legal guardian.'"
Daniel’s face flushed red. He glared at me across the table with pure venom. "He was fine! He had good days and bad days! He knew what he was doing when he gave me that house!"
"He was legally incompetent to execute a real estate conveyance, Mr. Vance," Marcus stated firmly. "And you knew it. In fact, on August 2nd, 2021—three months before the deed was signed—you sent an email to your brother Eric. I hold a copy of that email in my hand."
Marcus pulled a sheet of paper from his folder and read aloud:
"'Eric, Dad’s mind is slipping fast. If we don't get the deeds transferred out of his name now, the state will take everything if he ends up in a nursing home. I'll take Cleveland, you take Columbus. We don't need to involve Rachel; she'll just make a scene and try to put everything in a trust for Mom. Let’s get this done before Dad forgets who we are.'"
Eric groaned, lowering his head onto the table.
Daniel slammed his fist against the glass table, rattling the water glasses. "That was a private email taken out of context! We were trying to protect the family estate from taxes and government seizures!"
"You were protecting your own financial interests while stripping your mother of her legal rights!" I shouted, standing up from my chair. I couldn't hold back any longer. "You left her with nothing! You took her house, you took her rental income, you took her dignity, and then when she became an inconvenience to your wife, you dumped her on my doorstep in the dead of winter!"
"Quiet, Rachel!" Daniel yelled back, pointing an index finger at me. "You think you're a saint? You walked away for a year! You left us to deal with Dad's decline!"
"I walked away because you two rigged the entire system so that you got the wealth and I got the labor!" I countered, my eyes burning with tears of furious clarity. "You wanted the assets? Fine! But you don't get to commit fraud, exploit a sick old man, rob your mother, and then act like the victim when you get caught!"
"Enough! Both of you!" Attorney Vance Miller interjected, holding up his hands. "We are taking a fifteen-minute recess."
"No," my mother spoke up suddenly.
Her voice wasn't loud, but it possessed a strange, sharp stillness that cut through the chaos of the room. Everyone stopped and turned to look at her.
Margaret Vance sat up straight. She removed her glasses, wiped them carefully with a napkin, and looked directly at her two sons.
"Mom, please," Eric whimpered, looking up from the table. "We were trying to help..."
"You were trying to help yourselves, Eric," she said, her voice trembling slightly, but firm with a conviction I had never heard in her seventy-four years of life. "Your father was a proud man, but he was sick at the end. He didn't know what he was signing. But you knew. Both of you knew."
"Mom—" Daniel started.
"Don't call me Mom, Daniel," she interrupted, her eyes piercing through him. "A son does not relegate his mother to a cold basement while he builds a TV room. A son does not sit by while his child steals his grandmother’s money to buy trucks. You look at me and you see a burden. You see an line item on a spreadsheet that you want to delete."
She stood up slowly, resting her hands on the table to steady herself.
"I gave forty years of my life to building a home for you boys," she said quietly. "I skipped buying clothes for myself so you could go to summer camp. I sat by your beds when you had fevers. And this is how you repay me? By making me feel like a squatter in my own family?"
Daniel looked down at his lap, unable to meet her gaze. Eric covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
May you like
"Marcus," my mother said, turning to our attorney. "I want full restitution. I want my homes back. And if they refuse to sign the settlement papers today, I want you to press full criminal charges against every single person involved."
She turned and walked toward the conference room door with a grace and strength I didn't know she possessed. I gathered my files, gave my brothers one final look, and followed my mother out into the light.
