Chapter 6 - THE DEPOSITION AT THE FIRM
Three days later, I sat in the polished glass-walled conference room of Marcus Holloway’s law firm in downtown Charleston.
Across the mahogany table sat Terrence, looking like a ghost. His eyes were bloodshot, his shoulders slumped, and his designer suit looked like he had slept in it for three days straight. Next to him sat a high-priced divorce attorney he had managed to retain on credit—a lawyer who looked increasingly uncomfortable as Marcus laid out document after document of financial fraud.
Down the hall, in a separate holding room, Lennox and her brother Brandon were screaming at their respective attorneys, demanding to know why federal investigators had seized their corporate bank accounts.
Marcus stood up, pacing slowly behind his chair.
“Mr. Mitchell,” Marcus addressed Terrence directly. “Let’s review the wire transfers from the escrow closing on Maple Street. Three hundred thousand dollars was transferred immediately to an offshore account in the Bahamas under Brandon Vance’s control. Another two hundred thousand was distributed to personal retail credit accounts held exclusively in Lennox Vance’s maiden name. And the remaining balance was used to purchase a luxury sports car currently registered in your brother-in-law’s name.”
Terrence stared at the bank statements, his hands trembling violently.
“I... I didn't sign off on the wire to the Bahamas,” Terrence whispered, his voice shaking. “Lennox had power of attorney. She said she needed it to handle the closing documents while I was at the office.”
“Power of attorney does not grant the right to embezzle marital assets into offshore tax havens,” Marcus stated coldly. “Unless Mr. Mitchell signs a co-plaintiff affidavit joining his mother’s civil suit for fraud and fraudulent conveyance, he will be held legally and criminally liable as a co-conspirator in a multi-state real estate scam.”
Terrence’s attorney leaned over, whispering frantically in his ear.
Terrence looked across the table at me. His eyes were swimming with tears, the desperate, broken look of a son who had finally hit rock bottom.
“Mom,” Terrence choked out. “I’m so sorry. I was blind. I gave her everything, and she used me.”
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“I know, son,” I said softly, feeling a heavy ache in my chest. “I know.”
Terrence picked up the heavy Montblanc pen from the table. With a shaking hand, he signed his name across the bottom of the affidavit, officially turning on his wife and brother-in-law to save himself from prison.
