Chapter 12 - The Deposition
Three weeks after the raid, the formal pre-indictment deposition took place in a high-security conference room at the federal courthouse in Washington D.C. The table was long and polished, dividing two entirely different worlds. On one side sat my father, my mother, and their team of three high-priced, exhausted-looking criminal defense attorneys. On the other side sat the federal prosecutor, Major Vance from JAG, and myself.
I wore my Class-A uniform, sitting with my back straight, my hands folded neatly over the handle of my cane. Across from me, Harrison looked ten years older. The arrogant sneer was gone, replaced by deep, dark circles under his eyes, his skin sallow from sleepless nights and freezing credit lines. Evelyn refused to look at me, staring fixedly at her legal pad with her lips pressed into a thin, bitter line.
The federal prosecutor, a sharp, no-nonsense woman named Katherine Ross, clicked a remote control, projecting a series of bank routing documents onto the wall monitor.
"Mr. Vance," Prosecutor Ross began, her voice crisp and methodical. "On October 14th of last year, while Brigadier General Vance was deployed to a secure facility in Stuttgart, Germany, an electronic signature utilizing her military credentials was affixed to a four-million-dollar mezzanine loan agreement with Apex Commercial Funding. Do you recognize this document?"
Harrison swallowed hard, his attorney placing a restraining hand on his arm before he could speak. "On the advice of counsel, I invoke my Fifth Amendment right against self-incrimination," Harrison mumbled, his voice barely audible above the hum of the projector.
"Very well," Ross said, switching the slide to show an internal email chain recovered from his CFO’s hard drive during the raid. "Let the record show that on the night of Brigadier General Vance’s helicopter accident, an email was sent from your personal account to your offshore insurance broker at 2115 hours—exactly ninety minutes after you were notified of her critical condition. The subject line reads: 'Initiate accelerated payout protocols for key-person life insurance policy #8849-Vance.'"
My eyes narrowed as I read the screen. He hadn't just looked at my casualty settlement; he had secretly taken out a key-person corporate life insurance policy on me worth eight million dollars, naming himself as the sole beneficiary without my knowledge or consent.
"You bet on my death, Father," I said softly across the table.
May you like
Harrison looked up, his lip trembling, his defense attorney frantically signaling him to remain silent. But his arrogance couldn't resist one final, desperate justification. "You were in a war zone, Elena! It was prudent risk management! If you died over there, the company would have lost its primary credit guarantor! I was protecting our family's legacy!"
"No, Mr. Vance," Prosecutor Ross interrupted coldly, closing her folder with a sharp snap. "You were committing insurance fraud and wire fraud on a massive scale. And your daughter’s legacy is going to be the prison sentence you serve for it."
