Chapter 9: The Deposition
Seven weeks later, I sat across a long conference table from Marcus's lead attorney, a man named Gerald Fitch, who had been practicing law for thirty years and had the manner of someone who considered every question a small act of controlled violence.
Daniel sat beside me.
Julian had offered to come.
I had told him no.
This was mine to do.
Fitch opened with the drive.
"Mrs.
Rhodes," he said, "you've testified that you copied these financial records during your marriage to Mr.
Mercer without his knowledge.
Is that correct?"
"Yes."
"And you retained them for five years without disclosing their existence to any regulatory authority."
"Yes."
"Can you explain why?"
"I left the marriage.
I didn't need them to leave.
I kept them because I wasn't certain I wouldn't need them later."
"You kept them," Fitch said slowly, "as leverage."
"I kept them as documentation.
There's a difference."
"Is there?" He smiled slightly.
"You're a compliance attorney, Mrs.
Rhodes.
You understand that the line between documentation and leverage depends entirely on intent."
"My intent was to protect myself if Marcus ever came after me.
He did.
So I used them."
Fitch moved to the forged account.
"You claim this account was opened in your name without your knowledge or consent."
"I don't claim it.
The forensic analysis of the signature confirms it."
"Forensic analysis commissioned by your husband's firm."
"Forensic analysis conducted by an independent examiner retained by the SEC." I looked at him steadily.
"You have the report."
He moved on.
He spent forty minutes trying to establish that I had known about the account, that I had benefited from it, that my decision to come forward was motivated by the acquisition rather than any genuine concern for the investors.
Every question was a variation of the same argument: that I was not a victim but a participant who had simply chosen the winning side at the last moment.
I answered every question the same way.
Directly.
Without anger.
Fitch saved his sharpest question for the end.
"Mrs.
Rhodes, isn't it true that the timing of your cooperation — coming at precisely the moment your husband's firm stood to benefit from halting this acquisition — represents a remarkable coincidence?"
"No," I said.
"No?"
"It represents Marcus making the same mistake he always made." I kept my voice level.
"He assumed that because I hadn't used the documents yet, I never would.
He walked up to me at a wedding and told me leaving me was the smartest thing he ever did.
And then Julian's name came up in the same conversation." I paused.
"Marcus created the coincidence.
I just stopped stepping around it."
Fitch looked at me for a long moment.
Then he made a small note on his legal pad and moved to his next section.
He didn't return to that question.
Three weeks after the deposition, Marcus's attorneys filed a motion to suppress the historical records on the grounds of unlawful retention.
Daniel opposed it in twelve pages.
The judge denied the motion in two sentences.
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Marcus fired Gerald Fitch the following Monday.
His new attorney called Daniel that same afternoon to discuss the possibility of a negotiated resolution.
