Chapter 7 - The Deposition
The conference room on the twelfth floor of the Federal Plaza building was sterile and cold, dominated by a long polished mahogany table and floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the city skyline.
Rain slammed against the glass in sheets.
Sitting across the table was Mark Miller.
He wore a dark blue suit that looked slightly too tight around his shoulders. A thick knee brace was visible beneath his trouser leg, and he walked with a slight limp—a gift from the porcelain toilet lid. Beside him sat his mother, Evelyn, wearing a beige pearl necklace and a tweed jacket, looking like a woman attending a charity luncheon rather than a custody deposition.
Their lawyer, Arthur Pendelton—a rotund man with thin hair and gold-rimmed spectacles—sat between them, shuffling papers nervously.
On our side sat Maya, Frank, and me. Toby was downstairs in the court daycare facility under the watch of Maya’s trusted private security guard.
"This deposition is being recorded for the court docket," the court reporter announced, setting her small stenography machine on the table. "Case number 2026-FA-4091, Chen versus Miller."
Pendelton cleared his throat loudly. "Before we begin, we would like to offer a settlement. My client, Mr. Miller, is willing to drop all civil assault charges against Mrs. Chen if she agrees to voluntary surrender of primary physical custody, granting Mr. Miller decision-making authority, with supervised visitation for Mrs. Chen twice a week."
Mark smirked across the table, leaning forward on his elbows. His eyes met mine, filled with the same dark, arrogant confidence he had possessed when he broke through the bathroom door.
"You're looking better, Val," Mark said, his voice sickeningly sweet. "Lip healed up nice."
"Silence your client, Arthur," Maya said, her voice dropping into a deadly whisper. "Or I will have the magistrate cite him for witness intimidation right now."
Pendelton patted Mark’s arm nervously. "Mark, quiet."
Maya opened her black binder and leaned forward, resting her hands flat on the table.
"Mr. Miller," Maya began, her eyes locked onto Mark like a predator targeting its prey. "On the morning of September 5th, at approximately 5:15 AM, did you grab Valerie Chen by her hair while she was seated on the toilet?"
"Objection," Pendelton interjected automatically. "Leading."
"Answer the question, Mr. Miller," Maya demanded flatly.
Mark shifted in his leather chair, his jaw tightening. "I attempted to restrain my wife after she became hysterically aggressive due to sleep deprivation."
"Is grabbing a woman by her hair considered 'restraint' in your vocabulary?" Maya asked.
"She was screaming at my mother!" Mark raised his voice, his temper instantly flaring. "She was out of her mind! She hadn't slept in thirty-six hours!"
"Did you drag her into the hallway?" Maya pushed, her voice relentless.
"I pulled her out of the room to separate her from the baby!" Mark yelled.
"Did her shoulder strike the doorframe?"
"She fell!" Mark snapped, pounding his fist onto the mahogany table. "She's weak! She slipped on the floor because she was wearing hospital socks!"
CLICK.
Maya pressed play on her laptop.
The recorded voice of the 911 dispatcher filled the quiet room, followed by Mark’s clear, calm voice through the bathroom door:
“Tell them you hit me.”
Followed by Evelyn’s prompt response: “She did hit you. I saw it.”
Mark’s face visibly paled. He looked sideways at his mother, whose hands had clamped tight around her pearl necklace.
"Mr. Miller," Maya said, closing the laptop with a quiet snap. "Does a woman who is slipping on hospital socks prompt you to coordinate a false narrative with your mother before the police even arrive?"
"That... that recording is taken out of context," Pendelton stammered, pulling at his collar.
"Let's talk about context, then," Maya said smoothly, pulling a fresh stack of financial documents from her folder. "Let's talk about the forty thousand dollars you transferred out of Valerie's personal savings account forty-eight hours before she gave birth."
Evelyn Miller suddenly stood up, her tweed jacket rustling. "That money belonged to the family! Valerie was just an marrying into our estate!"
"Sit down, Mrs. Miller," Maya said, without even looking up at her. "Or I will have the bailiff remove you for interrupting a sworn deposition."
Evelyn swallowed her rage and slowly sat back down, her knuckles white.
"Mr. Miller," Maya continued, staring directly into Mark’s eyes. "You owe eighty-four thousand dollars to Allied Construction Materials. Your credit cards are maxed out. Your mother's home in Oakridge is facing pre-foreclosure notice as of last Tuesday."
Mark’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.
"You didn't want custody of Toby because you loved him," Maya said, her voice dropping like an anvil. "You wanted custody because Toby’s trust fund grants his primary guardian six thousand dollars a month in tax-free distributions. You assaulted your wife, stole her keys, trapped her in a bathroom, and attempted to put her in a psychiatric facility so you could pay off your illegal debts."
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"That's a lie!" Mark roared, standing up so fast his chair crashed backward into the glass window. "You don't know anything about my family! She's a crazy bitch who ruined my life!"
"Thank you, Mr. Miller," Maya said, smiling serenely as she turned to the court reporter. "Please ensure Mr. Miller's threat and physical outburst are fully transcribed for Judge Thomas's review on Monday morning."
