Chapter 5 - The Deposition of GreedThirty minutes later, Lorraine and Brooke were escorted off the Scottsdale estate grounds by private security, carrying nothing more than two small suitcases containing their personal clothes.
Their luxury credit cards were useless. Their joint bank accounts held a balance of zero dollars. The white pearl SUV was parked safely in my garage, and the locks on every entrance to the villa had been replaced with electronic biometric keypads.
While they scrambled to find a cheap motel on the outskirts of Phoenix, Detective Marcus Brooks from the Maricopa County Sheriff’s Office formally filed felony charges against both women.
Three weeks later, a formal pre-trial deposition was convened at the Maricopa County Superior Courthouse in downtown Phoenix.
I sat at the head of a mahogany conference table in the legal wing, dressed in a sharp charcoal suit. Beside me sat Samuel Sterling and Detective Brooks.
Across the table sat Lorraine and Brooke, accompanied by a public defender assigned to them after every high-priced private attorney in Phoenix refused to take their case without a retainer.
Lorraine looked withered. Her silk suits were gone, replaced by a cheap, wrinkled cotton dress. Her hair was messy, her manicured elegance stripped away by three weeks of financial desperation. Brooke sat beside her, sobbing silently into her tissues, looking terrified.
Their public defender, a tired-looking man named Arthur Pendelton, cleared his throat nervously.
“Mr. Vance,” Pendelton began, leaning forward. “My clients are prepared to sign a full civil settlement waiving all claims to the Scottsdale estate, forfeiting any demand for back maintenance fees, if your wife agrees to drop the criminal charges of domestic battery, elder abuse, and medical endangerment.”
I looked at Lorraine. Her dark eyes were fixed on the floor, refusing to make eye contact with me.
“I am not dropping a single charge, Mr. Pendelton,” I stated, my voice echoing clearly across the quiet room. “In fact, we are adding three additional felony counts today.”
Samuel Sterling slid a fresh legal binder across the table toward the public defender.
“These are the forensic accounting records from the state banking commissioner,” Samuel explained coldly. “Showing that over a three-year period, Lorraine Vance systematically embezzled forty-two thousand dollars from Ethan Vance’s tax escrow account—a crime that constitutes federal mail and wire fraud.”
Arthur Pendelton skimmed the banking documents, his face turning pale. He turned to Lorraine with an expression of utter disbelief. “You lied to me, Lorraine. You told me the funds were joint family gifts.”
“Ethan!” Lorraine suddenly shrieked, slamming her hands onto the table, tears of rage and desperation spilling down her wrinkled cheeks. “I raised you! I gave you life! You are going to put your own mother in prison over a worthless, sick girl who couldn't even give you a child?!”
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I stood up slowly, leaning across the table until I was inches from her face.
“That 'sick girl' sold her own hair to stay alive while you drank champagne with my money, Lorraine,” I whispered, my voice dropping into a register that made even the public defender sit up straight. “You didn't give me life. You gave me a lesson in how monsters operate. And now, you are going to pay for every single strand of hair she lost.”
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