Chapter 7 - The Deposition and the Evidence
Two weeks later, we were gathered in a neutral conference room at a court reporter's office for Marcus’s deposition.
Marcus sat across the long mahogany table, flanked by a sweaty, nervous-looking attorney who looked like he regretted taking the case. Marcus looked terrible; he had lost weight, his clothes were wrinkled, and the arrogant, easy-going smile he usually wore had been completely erased.
Sarah Vance sat next to me, her posture regal and predatory. She adjusted her glasses, opened her laptop, and looked across at Marcus's lawyer.
"Let’s begin," Sarah said smoothly. "Mr. Vance, we have provided your counsel with the financial discovery documents, including the forensic analysis of your joint bank accounts and the hidden line of credit you opened in your wife's name without her consent."
Marcus’s lawyer cleared his throat. "Ms. Vance, my client is willing to offer a generous settlement. He will waive his rights to the equity in the marital home in exchange for joint legal custody and a standard visitation schedule."
"We aren't settling for joint custody," I spoke up, my voice cutting through the legal posturing. "You don't get custody of a child you locked out of his own life."
"Elena, please," Marcus pleaded, leaning across the table. "It was a mistake! I was drunk! I didn't hear Noah come downstairs. I would never hurt him!"
"Let’s talk about that night," Sarah Vance interrupted, her tone sharp as a razor. "You claim you didn't hear your five-year-old son because you were intoxicated. But we have subpoenaed the text message logs from that evening, retrieved from a synced device."
Sarah pulled out a stack of printed pages and began to read aloud, her voice completely devoid of emotion.
Marcus (11:42 PM): Kids finally out cold. Your sister is stuck at the hospital until 6 AM minimum. Get over here.
Diane (12:05 AM): Front door is unlocked. I’m walking up.
Marcus (2:14 AM): The kid just came to the door. Heard us. I told him to get lost and go downstairs. He won't tell Elena, he's too scared. Come back to bed.
The room went entirely, deathly silent.
Marcus stared at the pages, his jaw dropping, his face turning a horrific shade of gray. He looked at his lawyer, but his lawyer was already shuffling his papers, looking down at the table in utter defeat.
"You knew," I whispered, the final piece of the puzzle falling into place. "You knew he was downstairs. You told him to get lost. You let him sleep on the floor because you were afraid he would catch you."
"We have also filed a formal complaint with the District Attorney's office for felony child neglect and endangerment," Sarah Vance added calmly, closing her laptop with a satisfying click. "Along with a civil suit for fraud regarding the $42,000 you embezzled from the marital estate to fund your relationship with Diane Vance. So, Mr. Vance, here is our counter-offer: You sign over sole legal and physical custody today. You waive all rights to the house, all rights to Elena’s retirement accounts, and you agree to pay maximum child support. If you sign, we will advise the DA that we do not wish to pursue criminal charges. If you don't sign, you will be leaving this room in handcuffs."
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Marcus looked at the paperwork. He looked at me, his eyes filled with a desperate, pathetic panic. He realized, finally, that the lighthouse keeper had put out the fire, and he was completely lost at sea.
Slowly, with a trembling hand, he reached for the pen.
