Chapter 7 - The Deposition
Three weeks later, the war moved from the playground to the sixteenth floor of a high-rise office building in downtown Chicago.
The glass-walled conference room of Sarah Jenkins’ law firm overlooked the foggy skyline. Inside, the air was suffocatingly tense.
Sitting across the long oak table was Ryan, his brother Marcus, and their high-priced lead attorney, Arthur Sterling. Ryan looked like a shell of his former self. He had lost weight, his designer suit hung loosely on his shoulders, and dark, hollow circles framed his bloodshot eyes.
Beside me sat Sarah Jenkins, surrounded by thick black binders, digital recording equipment, and a court reporter ready to record every word.
"We are here today for the court-ordered deposition of Ryan Vance in the matter of Vance v. Vance," Sarah announced into the microphone sitting on the table. "Mr. Vance, I remind you that you are under oath."
Arthur Sterling leaned forward, tapping his pen against his notepad. "Ms. Jenkins, before we begin, my client wishes to put an offer on the table. We are prepared to return the hundred and forty thousand dollars taken from the joint accounts, provide thirty-five hundred dollars a month in temporary spousal support, and grant primary physical custody to Mrs. Vance—provided she drops the criminal charges against Diane Vance and agrees to a strict non-disclosure agreement regarding the video."
Sarah didn't even look at the paper Sterling pushed across the table. She slid it right back.
"Your offer is offensive, Mr. Sterling," Sarah said flatly. "And my client will not sign an NDA that silences child abuse. Now, let's begin."
Sarah opened her primary binder and pulled out a high-definition tablet. She hit play, leaning it against the oak table so Ryan was forced to look directly at it.
The video from the birthday banquet began to play.
Diane's hand gripping Emma's wrist under the table. The sharp slap. Emma's confused, un-crying face.
And then, crystal clear through the speakers, Ryan's quiet, irritated whisper:
“Mom, I told you—not in front of everyone.”
Sarah paused the video right on Ryan's face.
"Mr. Vance," Sarah said, her voice dropping into a razor-sharp, lethal register. "Is that your voice on the recording?"
Ryan swallowed hard, his throat moving rapidly. He looked toward his attorney, but Sterling stayed silent, staring down at his legal pad.
"Mr. Vance," Sarah repeated, louder this time. "Under oath: is that your voice?"
"Yes," Ryan whispered, barely audible.
"And when you said, 'Mom, I told you—not in front of everyone,' what did you mean by the word 'again'?"
"I... I didn't say 'again,'" Ryan stammered frantically.
"Let's play it back," Sarah said smoothly, hitting rewind.
The audio looped three times. The precision of the audio enhancement team Sarah had hired made every syllable boom through the silent conference room: “Mom, I told you—not in front of everyone.”
"Mr. Vance," Sarah leaned forward, resting her hands on the table. "You were warning your mother that her physical discipline of your two-year-old daughter was acceptable to you in private, but unacceptable in public settings where witnesses could see it. Isn't that correct?"
"No!" Ryan suddenly shouted, slamming his hand onto the table. "That's not what I meant! I was trying to keep her calm! My mother has an explosive temper! I was trying to de-escalate her!"
"So you knew your mother had an explosive temper?" Sarah asked instantly, ensnaring him in his own words. "You knew she had an explosive temper, yet you repeatedly left your two-year-old daughter unattended in her care?"
Ryan froze. His jaw dropped. He realized in that terrifying second that he had just walked directly into a legal trap.
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"I... I..." Ryan stammered, looking around the room like a cornered animal.
"No further questions for this section," Sarah said, closing the binder with a heavy, final thud. "We will let the family court judge draw their own conclusions from your recorded testimony."
