Chapter 7 - The Interrogation of Vivian
While Ryan was sitting in a holding cell at the county detention center awaiting his bond revocation hearing, Vivian Bennett was facing a far more terrifying ordeal inside the federal regional annex. Because the funds she had embezzled through her fraudulent interior design company involved military allowances and forged powers-of-attorney, she was not being questioned by small-town detectives. She was sitting in a windowless, gray interrogation room across from Special Agent Sarah Jenkins of the Army Criminal Investigation Division and Assistant United States Attorney Mark Miller.
Vivian looked like a broken shell of the arrogant woman who had loughed on my living room sofa barked orders at my mother four days ago. Her expensive clothes were wrinkled and soiled, her hair was an uncombed nest of silver and bleach, and her designer sunglasses had been confiscated at the security desk. Her hands trembled uncontrollably against the cold steel table.
""I didn't do anything wrong,"" Vivian whined for the twentieth time, her voice hoarse from crying. ""I was only helping my son manage his household! Claire was never there! A wife's duty is to her home, her husband, and her family! She abandoned them for months at a time! Someone had to run that house!""
Special Agent Jenkins didn't raise her voice. She simply opened a thick, black binder and slid a series of glossy photographs across the metal surface.
""Mrs. Bennett, do you recognize this signature?"" Jenkins asked, pointing to a loan closing document from First Heritage Credit Union.
Vivian swallowed hard, her eyes darting frantically toward the closed door. ""It... it looks like Claire’s signature.""
""It does,"" Jenkins agreed calmly. ""Because you practiced tracing it forty-seven times on scrap paper before you applied your official notary seal. We executed a federal search warrant on your townhouse yesterday afternoon, Mrs. Bennett. We found your practice sheets in the bottom of your vanity drawer. We also found five different cashier’s checks totaling two hundred and twenty thousand dollars made out to your personal savings account, drawn directly from that fraudulent loan.""
Vivian’s breath hitched. She looked like she was about to vomit. ""Ryan told me it was fine! Ryan said Claire had so much money she wouldn't even notice a few hundred thousand! He said she had blind trusts from her father's oil land! He said she was just an administrator who pushed papers in an office!""
""And what about this?"" Jenkins continued, turning the page.
The photograph showed my mother’s battered wrist, with the dark purple impressions of Vivian’s fingers and the unmistakable indentation of her three-carat sapphire ring.
""Margaret was clumsy!"" Vivian shrieked, her voice cracking hysterically. ""She was senile! She dropped food on my rug! She spoke to me with disrespect! She told me that Claire was the real head of the household and that Ryan was just a kept man! She had no right to say that to me! I gave birth to Ryan! I made him the gentleman he is!""
""A gentleman who currently faces fourteen counts of federal wire fraud, aggravated identity theft, and grand larceny,"" AUSA Miller stated with ice-cold precision. ""And as for you, Mrs. Bennett, your notary commission has been permanently revoked by the secretary of state. You are being charged with aggravated forgery, grand theft from a vulnerable dependent, and felony assault resulting in significant bodily injury to an elder.""
Vivian gripped the edges of the steel table, her knuckles white. ""I’m sixty-five years old! I have high blood pressure! I have severe anxiety! I can't go to prison! Ryan will fix this! He will hire an attorney!""
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Miller smiled, a cold, humorless curling of his lips. ""Mr. Bennett’s bail hearing was held one hour ago. His bail was set at two million dollars cash, predicated on his documented attempts to flee to an offshore shell entity in the Caymans. He doesn't have two million dollars, Mrs. Bennett. He doesn't even have two hundred dollars. His sports car was seized by the repo company this morning because the loan was underwater, and all bank accounts associated with Apex Management have been frozen by federal order.""
The reality of her complete, total, and absolute destruction finally crashed through the impenetrable wall of Vivian’s narcissism. She slumped forward onto the metal table, sobbing hysterically into her arms, the pitiful sounds echoing against the concrete walls of the holding room. There was no country club brunch to save her. There were no black cards, no cashmere sweaters, and no timid, gentle mother-in-law to bully into scrubbing pots. There was only the cold, unyielding weight of justice.
