Chapter 3 - The Deposition
Six weeks later, I walked into the law offices of Sterling, Vance & Associates in downtown Washington, D.C.
I wasn't using a wheelchair. I wasn't using a walker. I relied on a single, polished black carbon-fiber cane, walking with a deliberate, measured gait. Every step required intense focus, but I refused to show pain in front of the people waiting inside.
Denise, my physical therapist, had pushed me through three hours of daily torture to get me to this point. "If you're going to face them, Captain," she had told me, "you face them on your own two feet."
Inside the conference room, Mason sat between his high-priced civil attorney, Arthur Vance (no relation to my Master Sergeant), and his mother, Carolyn. Across the table sat Captain Lin and my civilian co-counsel, a sharp-witted veteran’s rights lawyer named David Ross.
Mason looked different. The easy sun-kissed charm he had displayed at the hospital was gone. His suit looked slightly wrinkled, his hair unstyled, and his eyes carried dark circles. Without access to my salary and disability payouts, his lavish lifestyle had come to a grinding halt.
"Captain Hayes," Arthur Vance began, adopting a smooth, conciliatory tone. "We are here today to see if we can resolve this matter quietly without further escalation into criminal territory. My client acknowledges that his financial management over the past few months was... imprecise. However, as husband and wife—"
"Mr. Vance," David Ross interrupted, placing a two-inch thick binder on the mahogany table with a heavy thud. "Let’s skip the preamble. This binder contains three years of bank records, forensic accounting analysis, and sworn affidavits from Walter Reed staff."
Carolyn scoffed. "Nora is exaggerating. Mason took care of her house for years!"
"Carolyn, be quiet," Arthur Vance cautioned gently before turning back to us. "What are your client's terms?"
Ross looked at me. I took a slow breath, resting both hands on the top of my cane.
"First," I said, my voice cutting through the room, "Mason will sign a full financial restitution agreement returning the $18,400 taken from the Joint Recovery account, along with the $42,000 he transferred over the past four months to accounts associated with Victoria Vance."
Mason flinched at the mention of her name. Carolyn looked at her son in genuine shock. "Who is Victoria?" she whispered.
Mason didn't answer her. "Nora, I don't have $60,000 cash right now," he stammered. "You froze my accounts!"
"You have equity in the boat you bought last year," I replied calmly. "And you have your pension contribution from your firm. You will liquidate both."
"And second?" Arthur Vance asked, leaning forward.
"Second, the house in Arlington," I said. "It was purchased prior to our marriage using my VA loan entitlement and my down payment from my second deployment. Mason's name was added to the title two years ago as a courtesy. He will execute a quitclaim deed transferring sole ownership back to me immediately."
"That’s insane!" Carolyn burst out, standing up. "You want to leave my son with nothing?!"
"Your son left me in a combat recovery ward to spend my money on another woman," I said, looking her dead in the eye. "He is lucky I am settling this in a civil court instead of pushing the U.S. Attorney’s office to prosecute him for wire fraud on a military installation."
Arthur Vance looked at his client. "Mason... is this true about the transfers to Victoria Vance?"
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Mason lowered his head into his hands, unable to meet anyone's gaze. "I... I can explain—"
"You don't need to explain anything to us," Captain Lin said, opening her briefcase and pulling out a blue folder. "You just need to decide if you want to sign these documents today, or if you prefer to answer a federal summons on Monday morning."
