Chapter 6 - The Deposition
Six weeks after the incident in Miami, the legal hammer fell with finality.
Because of the criminal complaint filed regarding child endangerment and custodial interference, the district attorney’s office required formal depositions from all parties involved to determine whether felony charges would be formally pursued against my mother and sister.
The deposition took place in a sterile, fluorescent-lit conference room on the eighth floor of the Fulton County Justice Center.
I arrived with Steven and Sarah Vance. I wore a tailored dark gray pantsuit, my hair pulled back into a sleek, professional bun. I looked calm, composed, and utterly untouchable.
Across the broad mahogany conference table sat my mother, Eleanor, and my sister, Briana.
They looked like shells of their former selves. My mother had lost weight; her expensive clothes hung loosely on her frame, and her hair lacked its usual salon styling. Briana sat slumped in her chair, her eyes fixed on the glossy surface of the table, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. Their court-appointed public defender sat beside them, looking exhausted before the proceedings had even officially begun.
The assistant district attorney, a sharp woman named Marcus, opened the blue folder in front of her and adjusted her glasses.
“We are on the record,” Marcus announced, her voice clipping through the quiet room. “This is the deposition of Eleanor Mercer and Briana Mercer regarding the incident on June 14th in Brickell, Florida.”
Marcus turned her gaze toward my mother.
“Mrs. Mercer, on the morning of June 14th, did you remove minor child Ella from the rental vehicle and leave her in the common hallway of the apartment building located at 412 Brickell Avenue?”
My mother swallowed hard, her trembling hand reaching up to clutch her fake pearl necklace.
“It... it wasn't like that,” my mother stammered, her voice shaking violently. “We were bringing her to see her father. Preston is a wealthy man. He can provide things for Ella that Dana refuses to allow. We were doing what was best for the family!”
“Did you have legal custody of the child?” Marcus asked coldly.
“I am her grandmother!” Eleanor cried out, tears finally spilling over her wrinkled cheeks. “I don't need a piece of paper to take care of my own granddaughter!”
“Mrs. Mercer,” Marcus interrupted sharply. “You are not a legal guardian. You took a seven-year-old child across state lines, left her unattended in an unfamiliar building, and drove away to a beach resort. When the mother called you, you told her, 'You'll thank us later.' Is that correct?”
My mother choked on her breath, looking desperately at her attorney.
The public defender tapped his pen against his pad. “My clients maintain that this was an internal family miscommunication, not a criminal act.”
“Miscommunication?” Sarah Vance cut in smoothly, sliding a stack of printed financial records across the table. “These are bank statements showing that twenty-four hours prior to this incident, Mr. Richard Mercer received a wire transfer of fifty thousand dollars from Preston’s personal account. These are text messages between Briana Mercer and Preston’s assistant detailing the exact exchange location.”
Sarah looked directly at Briana.
“You sold your niece’s access for fifty thousand dollars to pay off your personal credit card debt and keep your luxury vehicle lease active. Isn't that correct, Briana?”
Briana’s composure completely shattered. She slammed her hands against the table, tears streaming down her face as she glared at me with pure venom.
“She had everything!” Briana screamed, pointing a trembling finger at me. “Dana has a huge house! A rich husband! A career! And what do I have?! I was struggling every single day! Mom and Dad always loved her success more! She owes us! She owes all of us!”
I didn't flinch. I didn't raise my voice. I simply leaned forward, looking my sister straight in the eyes.
“I don't owe you a single breath, Briana,” I said softly. “I worked sixty hours a week for ten years while you sat on your couch waiting for hand-outs. I gave you thousands of dollars because I felt sorry for you. But you didn't want my help. You wanted my life. And when you couldn't have it, you tried to steal my daughter.”
The room fell into an absolute, suffocating silence.
Briana buried her face in her hands, her sobs echoing off the glass walls.
Assistant District Attorney Marcus closed her blue folder with a heavy thud.
“Based on the evidence presented today,” Marcus said firmly, “the State will be filing formal charges of misdemeanor child endangerment against Eleanor Mercer, and felony criminal conspiracy against Briana Mercer. You will be served with formal court summonses within forty-eight hours.”
My mother let out a strangled wail, collapsing against her chair, while Briana stared at the prosecutor in horrified disbelief.
Sarah Vance stood up, buttoning her jacket, and turned to me with a small, satisfied nod.
“We’re done here, Dana,” Sarah said quietly.
May you like
I stood up, smoothed down my suit jacket, and took Steven’s hand.
As we walked out of the conference room, I didn't look back once.
