Chapter 14 - The Judas Deposition
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The emergency deposition was ordered by Federal Magistrate Judge Arbuthnot in the United States District Court for the Eastern District of Virginia. Because of Diane Bellweather’s fragile health and the explosive nature of her sworn affidavit, the court granted Victoria Vance’s motion for an expedited, videotaped deposition to determine whether the 1994 land transfer should be frozen pending a full trial on the merits.
The atmosphere inside Conference Room 3B was suffocating. Victoria Vance sat at the far end of the long glass table, surrounded by six senior litigators from Wall Street. Beside them sat Diane Bellweather, dressed in an expensive black suit Victoria had purchased for her, trying desperately to project the poise of her former social status.
I sat beside Naomi, my expression unreadable, holding a weathered blue ledger that my mother had kept in her private desk during the final months of her life.
"This deposition of Mrs. Diane Bellweather is called in the matter of Vance Global Arbitrage versus the Price Preservation Trust," Magistrate Arbuthnot announced via video link from the bench. "Counsel, proceed."
Victoria’s lead attorney, a razor-sharp litigator named Harrison Vance, stood up. "Mrs. Bellweather, please state for the record your relationship to the properties in question."
Diane adjusted her pearls, looking directly at the camera. "My late husband, Charles Bellweather, owned those parcels. In October of 1994, Evelyn Price—who was working as an auditor—discovered irregularities in Charles’s business records. She came to our home on River Road and threatened to ruin our family unless Charles signed over the deeds to her personally for a fraction of their value. It was extortion, pure and simple. My son Grant was merely trying to reclaim what was rightfully stolen from our family."
"Thank you, Mrs. Bellweather," Harrison said, smiling with victory as he turned to Naomi. "Your witness, Ms. Chen."
Naomi slowly stood up. She didn't look at Harrison; she looked directly at Diane.
"Mrs. Bellweather," Naomi began smoothly. "You claim that Evelyn Price came to your home on River Road in October 1994 to blackmail your husband?"
"Yes," Diane said firmly. "I remember it distinctly."
"That is fascinating," Naomi said, opening a yellow folder. "Because according to state medical records, you were admitted to Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore on October 12, 1994, for an elective cosmetic surgery procedure, and you remained hospitalized until October 24. How could you have witnessed a meeting at your home in Richmond when you were in a hospital bed in Maryland?"
Diane’s face paled slightly. "I... I meant she called him. I heard the phone conversations before I left."
"I see," Naomi said, her voice dropping an octave, becoming dangerously quiet. "Let us talk about phone conversations then. Mrs. Bellweather, do you recognize this audio recording?"
Naomi clicked a button on her laptop. The speaker filled the quiet room with the distinct, metallic sound of a landline recording from thirty years ago.
A male voice echoed—Charles Bellweather: "Evelyn, you have to take the deeds today. Diane is opening offshore accounts in Caymans behind my back with Julian Vance Senior. She tried to slip arsenic into my heart medication last week so she could collect the insurance payout before the SEC seizes the company. I am transferring the deeds to you because you are the only honest auditor in Virginia who will keep them safe from my wife."
A second voice followed—a younger Diane Bellweather, picked up on an extension line: "If you give those deeds to Evelyn, Charles, I will make sure you die broke, and I’ll tell the federal prosecutors you masterminded the whole laundering scheme yourself!"
The recording clicked off.
The silence in the conference room was deafening. Victoria Vance slowly turned her head toward Diane, her cold blue eyes widening in sudden, icy rage. Harrison Vance looked down at his legal pad as if it had caught fire.
Diane sat frozen, her mouth open, gasping for air like a fish pulled from the water. "Where... where did you get that?"
"Your late husband kept duplicate tape logs of every phone line in your River Road house," Naomi revealed, slamming a second binder onto the table. "He placed them in a sealed escrow file with his estate attorney, with instructions that they be opened only if you ever attempted to claim ownership of the Price properties. My client’s mother didn't blackmail Charles, Mrs. Bellweather. Charles was begging Evelyn to protect his assets from you!"
"She's lying! It's a fake!" Diane shrieked, standing up so fast her chair fell backward, smashing against the drywall. "Victoria, tell them it's a fake!"
"Shut up, Diane," Victoria Vance said, her voice devoid of any warmth or decorum.
Naomi turned to the video camera, addressing the magistrate directly. "Your Honor, the witness has committed blatant perjury under oath, suborned by Vance Global Arbitrage in a fraudulent attempt to manipulate this court. We move for an immediate dismissal of the Manhattan civil complaint and the referral of Diane Bellweather and Harrison Vance to the Department of Justice for criminal conspiracy."
Magistrate Arbuthnot’s face on the screen was thunderous. "Motion granted. Mr. Vance, your legal team has ten minutes to clear out of this courthouse before I issue bench warrants for contempt. This deposition is closed."
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Diane collapsed into her chair, sobbing hysterically as her high-priced lawyers abandoned her, packing their briefcases without offering her a single word of comfort. Victoria Vance stood up, buttoned her cashmere jacket, and walked toward the exit.
As she passed me, I stood up and met her gaze. "You brought a knife to a fight against a woman who built this foundation out of stone, Victoria. Tell your hedge fund to start packing."
