Chapter 4 - The Deposition of LiesZ
Three weeks later, the civil deposition took place on the fourteenth floor of the Chase Tower in downtown Indianapolis. The conference room boasted floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline, but the atmosphere inside was suffocatingly tense.
Derek sat across the long mahogany table, wearing an orange orange jumpsuit provided by the Marion County Sheriff’s Department. His hair was unwashed, his posture slouched, and the smug arrogance that had defined him for three years was replaced by a desperate, twitchy hostility. Next to him sat his newly appointed defense attorney, Richard Sterling—a slick, high-priced corporate defender known for twisting victims' words until they broke.
I sat at the opposite end, my leg still bound in a thick fiberglass cast, flanked by Gwendolyn Ross and my lead forensic expert, Dr. Karen Vance (no relation to the detective).
"Let the record reflect," the court reporter droned, "this is the deposition of Derek Miller in the matter of Abigail Miller v. Derek Miller, Margaret Miller, et al., Case Number 24-CV-8890."
Sterling leaned into his microphone, clearing his throat. "Before we begin, I want to state on the record that my client is testifying under extreme duress due to ongoing, unproven criminal charges initiated by the plaintiff's malicious fabrications."
"Save the theatricals for the jury, Richard," Gwendolyn snapped coldly. "Your client is under oath. If he lies today, I will have the prosecutor add perjury charges to his indictment before the market closes."
Sterling glared at her, then motioned for Derek to proceed.
Gwendolyn stood up, leaning over the table, placing a thick stack of printed text messages and bank ledgers directly in front of Derek. "Mr. Miller, on the night of October 14th, your wife suffered a compound fracture to her left tibia and fibula. Did you or did you not witness your mother, Margaret Miller, strike her with a wooden rolling pin?"
Derek looked at his lawyer, who gave a slight nod.
"I saw my wife fall," Derek said, his voice flat, monotonous. "She was intoxicated. She was staggering around the kitchen, arguing with my mother over dinner preparation, and she tripped over her own feet, striking her leg against the corner of the island."
I squeezed my fists under the table, my nails digging into my palms, but I kept my face completely emotionless. I had promised Gwendolyn I would not let them provoke me.
"Intoxicated," Gwendolyn repeated smoothly. "Interesting. The toxicology report taken from Lakeside Community Hospital upon Abigail’s admission showed a blood alcohol content of 0.00%. How do you explain that, Mr. Miller?"
Derek smirked faintly. "She must have metabolized it by the time she got to the hospital. She spent hours wandering around outside like a crazy person."
"Hours wandering around outside," Gwendolyn said, nodding as if considering his answer. "And during those hours, why didn't you call 911 to report your 'intoxicated, injured wife' missing?"
Derek hesitated. His eyes flicked left, then right. "I... I thought she went to a friend's house. She does that when she gets emotional."
"Really? Which friend?" Gwendolyn pounced like a panther. "Name one friend Abigail was allowed to contact, Mr. Miller. Because according to these phone records, you had placed a parental control lock on her smartphone, restricting her outgoing calls to only three numbers: yours, your mother's, and your father's."
"That was for her own protection!" Derek snapped, slamming his hand on the table. The metallic clink of his wrist restraints echoed sharply. "She was unstable! She was spending money recklessly!"
"Recklessly?" Gwendolyn picked up a bright red folder. "Let's talk about spending money, Derek. This is the financial ledger for Vanguard Premier Assets LLC. Between March of last year and last month, over $420,000 was transferred from Abigail’s personal salary account into this shell corporation. From there, $150,000 was used to pay off your personal gambling debts at the Horseshoe Casino in Shelbyville."
Sterling jumped to his feet. "Objection! This line of questioning is outside the scope of the personal injury claim!"
"It goes directly to motive, Richard!" Gwendolyn barked back. "Your client didn't just turn a blind eye to his mother breaking my client's leg—he actively kept her captive in that house because she was his personal piggy bank! The moment she mentioned divorce, he knew his financial fraud would be exposed!"
Derek’s face flushed bright red. "She owed me! I gave her a home! I gave her a family! She was nothing before she met me!"
"Mr. Miller, control yourself!" Sterling warned, grabbing his client’s shoulder.
"No, let him speak," Gwendolyn said, stepping back with a cold, terrifying smile. "Please, Derek. Tell the court more about how your wife 'owed' you."
Derek leaned forward, his eyes bulging with fury, ignoring his lawyer’s frantic gestures. "She was working for pennies when I met her! I made her into who she is! And then she loses our baby and starts talking about leaving me? About taking half of what my family built? Over my dead body! She deserved everything she got in that kitchen!"
The room went dead silent.
The court reporter’s fingers froze over the stenography machine. Sterling closed his eyes in sheer horror, dropping his pen onto the table. Derek had just openly confessed to motive and intent on official court record.
Gwendolyn looked at the court reporter. "Please certify that last statement for immediate submission to the Marion County Superior Court and the United States District Attorney."
She then turned to Sterling, her voice chillingly quiet. "Your client just sealed his fate in his criminal trial, Richard. Now, let’s talk about the settlement terms for the civil lawsuit. We are asking for five million dollars in punitive damages, full forfeiture of the Meridian Estates property, and complete liquidation of Miller Commercial Real Estate."
"You can't take my company!" Derek roared, struggling against his restraints as two sheriff's deputies stepped up behind his chair. "You can't take my life!"
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I finally stood up, relying on my crutches, standing tall and looking down at the man who had tried to break me.
"I'm not taking your life, Derek," I said softly, looking him straight in his panicked eyes. "You gave it to me the moment you let your mother pick up that rolling pin."
