Chapter 5 - The Deposition
The mandatory court deposition took place on a cold Tuesday in January in a neutral conference room at the Dauphin County Courthouse.
Bridget arrived flanked by her high-priced litigation lawyer, Arthur Pendelton—a man whose pompous demeanor faltered the moment he saw Sarah Lin’s towering stack of financial subpoenas on the table.
My mother sat beside Bridget, wearing a dark gray suit, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She looked older, smaller, her eyes darting nervously toward me every time I moved.
My father did not attend. Two weeks prior, he had formally moved out of my parents' house, taking an apartment near his work and hiring his own separate defense attorney. The family was fracturing under the weight of its own secrets.
"We are on the record," the court reporter announced, adjusting her typing machine. "Case number 24-CV-889. Deposition of Bridget Slater regarding the Guardianship and Estate of Eleanor Hail."
Bridget sat upright, her posture rigid, her chin thrust out in a display of defiant arrogance. "I am ready."
Sarah Lin began smoothly, her voice sweet, polite, and entirely dangerous.
"Miss Slater, you filed a sworn affidavit stating that your grandmother, Eleanor Hail, lacks the mental capacity to manage her estate. Is that correct?"
"Yes," Bridget said firmly. "She confuses dates, she forgets her medication, and she is easily influenced by my sister."
"I see," Sarah said, picking up a document. "And when you had her sign a financial power of attorney eight months ago, did she lack mental capacity then?"
Bridget narrowed her eyes. "No. She was lucid then. Her condition deteriorated rapidly after Imogen began visiting her."
"I see," Sarah nodded. "So she was lucid on April 12th, the day she signed the authorization transfer? But she became incompetent on April 14th, two days later, when Imogen announced her pregnancy?"
Arthur Pendelton cleared his throat loudly. "Objection. Counsel is argumentative."
"I'm establishing a timeline, Mr. Pendelton," Sarah said calmly. She turned back to Bridget. "Miss Slater, on April 15th, you transferred forty thousand dollars from the Hail Family Trust into an online brokerage account registered under your name. Was Eleanor Hail lucid when she authorized that transfer?"
Bridget’s face drained of color. "That was... an investment management decision made under my authority as trustee."
"An investment that lost thirty-two thousand dollars in seventy-two hours on volatile tech options," Sarah countered, pulling out a brightly highlighted trading statement. "Did you inform your grandmother of those losses?"
"I... I planned to replenish the account," Bridget stammered, her voice losing its crisp edge.
"With what funds, Miss Slater?" Sarah asked, leaning forward. "With the equity from selling your grandmother's house on Delmont Street?"
"Objection!" Pendelton shouted, standing up. "My client is not on trial for financial malpractice!"
"She is if she’s petitioning for guardianship over the very victim she stole from," Sarah fired back, her voice echoing off the walls. She pulled out the second folder—the text message logs between Bridget and Evelyn.
Sarah slid a copy across the table directly to my mother.
"Mrs. Slater," Sarah said, addressing my mother directly for the first time. "Did you know your daughter ordered you to ignore your youngest child while she lay bleeding on four concrete steps?"
My mother stared down at the printed text messages. Her hands began to shake violently.
"I... I thought Imogen was dramatic..." my mother whispered, her voice cracking. "Bridget said... Bridget said it was just a scrape..."
"Read the text message, Evelyn," Sarah said relentlessly. "Bridget specifically told you that if Imogen lost the baby, 'it's over anyway.' She knew your grandchild was in danger, and she actively prevented you from calling an ambulance to protect her own theft."
My mother turned to look at Bridget, her hazel eyes wide with horror. "Bridget... you told me Imogen was trying to ruin us... you told me she faked the fall..."
"Shut up, Mom!" Bridget hissed, slamming her hand on the table. "Don't speak to them!"
"YOU LIED TO ME!" my mother suddenly screamed, her voice cracking into a raw, ragged sob that shocked everyone in the room. "I let my daughter lie in the cold! I let my grandchild almost die because I trusted you!"
"Silence in the room!" Pendelton pleaded, trying to regain control of his clients, but it was already too late.
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My mother pulled her hands away from Bridget as if her own daughter were covered in poison. She dropped her head onto the table, sobbing uncontrollably, the decades of twisted family loyalty finally snapping in two.
I sat across from them, holding Theo’s hand beneath the table, watching the empire of lies crumble into dust.
