Chapter 4 - The Discovery Deposition
Three weeks passed in a blur of legal maneuvers, financial audits, and police interviews.
I moved into a quiet, sunlit one-bedroom apartment in Canton, secured with a private security system that Christopher’s firm helped me arrange. For the first time in a year, I slept through the night without hearing Susan’s passive-aggressive criticisms or Dwight’s dismissive hums from the couch.
On a rainy Tuesday afternoon, we sat inside the high-rise conference room of Sterling & Associates on Pratt Street for the formal discovery deposition.
Sitting across the long oak table was Dwight, flanked by his newly retained defense attorney, a sleek, slick-haired man named Arthur Vance (no relation to the judge), who looked thoroughly miserable to be representing the Miller family.
Susan sat beside Dwight, wearing a dark gray dress, dabbing her dry eyes with a tissue every three minutes, trying to play the part of a grieving, heartbroken mother. Jared was absent, currently released on fifty thousand dollars bail under strict electronic home monitoring while his felony assault trial approached.
Christopher sat at the head of the table, opening a thick leather binder containing three hundred pages of forensic bank statements.
"This deposition is being recorded for use in Case Number 24-FC-0912, Elizabeth Vance versus Dwight Miller," Christopher announced, adjusting the digital microphone on the center of the table. "Mr. Miller, please state your name and current address for the record."
Dwight swallowed hard, adjusting his tie. "Dwight Alexander Miller. 442 Elmwood Avenue, Apartment 4B."
"Thank you," Christopher said. He pulled a single sheet of paper from the binder and slid it across the table toward Dwight’s lawyer. "Mr. Miller, I show you Exhibit C—a bank transfer receipt dated four days before your wedding, moving twenty-four thousand dollars from the joint down-payment account into a secondary commercial account owned by 'Miller Property Holdings LLC.'"
Dwight’s lawyer glanced at the paper, then leaned over to whisper in Dwight’s ear.
Dwight cleared his throat. "That... that was an authorized transfer to secure the earnest money deposit for the townhouse we were going to buy."
"Is that so?" Christopher raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his leather chair. "Then why does the corporate registry for Miller Property Holdings LLC list only two managing members: Jared Miller and Ashley Cole?"
Susan flinched. Dwight’s jaw dropped open.
"Ashley Cole?" Christopher pressed, his voice sharp as a razor. "Your wife’s maid of honor? The same Ashley Cole who received a twelve-thousand-dollar wire transfer from that same account twelve hours after your wedding?"
"Objection!" Arthur Vance interjected quickly, waving his hand. "Counsel is harassing my client regarding third-party corporate structures—"
"I am establishing a pattern of organized, pre-meditated grand larceny, Arthur," Christopher interrupted smoothly, his tone entirely polite. "And if your client lies under oath today, I will have the State’s Attorney add perjury charges to his indictment before five o'clock."
Dwight’s face went entirely white. He looked at his lawyer, his hands shaking so violently on the table that his pen rattled against the wood.
"Dwight," Arthur Vance warned softly under his breath. "Answer carefully."
"I... I gave Ashley the money to pay for... for wedding vendor expenses," Dwight stammered, his eyes darting frantically around the room.
"Vendor expenses?" Christopher smiled—a cold, ruthless smile that made Susan pull back in her chair.
Christopher reached into his binder and pulled out a second document.
"This is an escrow receipt from the First Maryland Title Company," Christopher stated loudly. "Dated yesterday afternoon. It confirms that Ashley Cole placed a twelve-thousand-dollar deposit on a luxury two-bedroom rental condo in Harbor East... under her name and yours."
Susan turned her head violently toward her son, her dry eyes suddenly wide with genuine shock. "What?! Dwight! What is he talking about?! Harbor East?! You told me that money was going to fix your father’s garage roof!"
"Mom, shut up!" Dwight hissed, turning red.
"Don't you tell me to shut up!" Susan shrieked, slamming her hand on the table. "We are facing eviction from Elmwood Avenue because your accounts are frozen! Your father is wearing an ankle monitor! And you gave twelve thousand dollars to that little blonde tramp?!"
"Mrs. Miller, please control yourself," Arthur Vance pleaded, burying his face in his hands.
"He lied to me!" Susan cried out, turning her rage toward the digital microphone. "He told us Elizabeth’s father left her eighty thousand dollars! He told his father to push her so she’d sign the company release forms!"
The room fell dead silent.
Christopher leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Susan like a hawk marking its prey.
"Mrs. Miller," Christopher said softly, his voice dropping into a deadly quiet tone. "Did you just state under oath that your son, Dwight, instructed your husband, Jared, to physically assault my client in order to force her to execute a financial release?"
Susan froze. The realization of what she had just blurted out hit her like a bucket of ice water.
Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. She looked at Dwight, who was staring at her with pure, unadulterated hatred. She looked at Arthur Vance, who had closed his eyes in sheer legal despair.
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"I... I didn't mean... I was confused..." Susan stammered, her voice shrinking into a pathetic squeak.
"Thank you, Mrs. Miller," Christopher said calmly, checking a box on his legal pad. "The court reporter has logged your statement. We are taking a fifteen-minute recess."
