Chapter 7 - The Deposition of Lies
Two weeks after Iris was discharged from the hospital, the legal machinery set in motion by my attorney, Sarah Jenkins, ground Derek and Valerie’s lives to an absolute halt. The civil tort lawsuit had been served, and because we had requested an expedited discovery schedule due to the ongoing criminal investigation against Gavin, a formal deposition was scheduled at Sarah’s downtown office.
I sat at the end of the long mahogany conference table, my tape recorder running alongside the official court stenographer’s machine. Across from me sat Derek, Valerie, and their high-priced civil defense attorney, a slick-looking man named Morrison who looked like he would rather be anywhere else in the world.
Derek looked visibly diminished. Without the swagger of his son’s football triumphs to prop up his ego, he looked older, his face puffy from stress and his posture defensive. Valerie wouldn't even look in my direction; she stared fixedly at her legal pad, her hands twisting a silver ring on her finger.
Sarah Jenkins didn't start with softball questions. She immediately projected the high-definition video of the patio assault onto the large wall monitor behind Derek’s head and hit play.
"Mr. Montgomery," Sarah began, her voice icy and precise. "For the record, you are looking at Exhibit A, the security footage from Robert and Martha Mercer’s residence dated September 1st. In this video, your sixteen-year-old son, Gavin, is seen stepping directly onto the left wrist of ten-year-old Iris Mercer. Do you dispute the authenticity of this video?"
Derek cleared his throat, looking at his lawyer before leaning toward the microphone. "I don't dispute the video exists. But I dispute the characterization of intent. It was an accident. Gavin lost his footing while reaching for the paper."
Sarah smiled—a razor-sharp, predatory smile. "An accident? Let’s examine your definition of an accident, Mr. Montgomery." She picked up a thick binder of printed text messages and slid it across the table. "I am handing you Exhibit B, a transcript of text messages sent from your cellular device to my client, David Mercer, over the past fourteen months. Please read the highlighted entry from June 12th aloud for the record."
Derek’s eyes darted across the page, his face flushing a dark, angry red. He remained silent.
"Please read it aloud, Mr. Montgomery, or I will ask the stenographer to read it into the record," Sarah commanded.
Derek swallowed hard and muttered into the microphone: "'Gavin needs to assert dominance early. Weak kids always whine when they get outplayed. Don't punish my boy just because he's stronger than yours.'"
"And what event precipitated that specific text message, Mr. Montgomery?" Sarah pressed.
"I... I don't recall," Derek mumbled.
"Let me refresh your memory," Sarah said, pulling out an 8x10 color photograph and placing it on the table. It showed a twelve-year-old cousin with a bloody lip and a bruised cheek. "On June 12th, at a family birthday party, your son Gavin struck this child in the face after losing a game of ping-pong. When the child’s parents demanded an apology, you sent that text message to my client. You explicitly endorsed physical violence and bullying as 'asserting dominance,' did you not?"
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"I was encouraging a competitive mindset!" Derek slammed his fist onto the table, losing his temper. "The world is soft! Everyone wants a participation trophy! I was trying to teach my son how to be a winner in a world that tries to tear strong men down!"
"By encouraging him to stomp on a ten-year-old girl’s arm?" Sarah snapped back, leaning over the table until she was inches from Derek’s face. "You didn't raise a winner, Mr. Montgomery. You raised an aggressive, unmonitored predator. And your active encouragement of his violence makes you financially and morally liable for every single piece of titanium currently screwed into that little girl’s bones."
