Chapter 9: The Hearing
The courtroom was smaller than I expected.
I had imagined something formal and imposing.
What I got was a low-ceilinged room with fluorescent lighting, two long tables facing a raised bench, and a smell of old carpet and recycled air.
Patricia sat beside me.
Across the aisle, Greg sat with his attorney — a polished man named Whitmore who had the careful posture of someone billing by the hour.
Greg didn't look at me when I came in.
Eleanor was in the gallery.
She had called me the night before to say she was coming.
I had told her she didn't need to.
She had said she knew that.
She was in the third row when I arrived, wearing her good gray coat, her handbag on her lap, her back straight.
She gave me one small nod.
The judge was a woman in her sixties named Hargrove.
She had the manner of someone who had heard every version of every story and was no longer surprised by any of it.
Howard Briggs testified first.
He walked through the financial documentation with the calm precision of a man who had done this many times — the LLC registrations, the capital contributions, the income generated during the marriage and during mediation, the commercial property in the warehouse district.
He cited dates, account numbers, transaction records.
He did not editorialize.
He didn't need to.
Whitmore cross-examined him for forty minutes.
He challenged the methodology, questioned the source of the photographs, suggested that Kayla had obtained the documents illegally.
Howard answered each question the same way: with a document reference and a date.
When Whitmore sat down, he didn't look satisfied.
Then Patricia called Kayla.
She walked in from the side door looking younger than I remembered — or maybe just more exposed, without Greg beside her.
She was dressed carefully, her hair pulled back.
She sat in the witness chair and folded her hands in her lap and looked at Patricia.
"Ms.
Reeves," Patricia said.
"Can you describe what you found in the second bedroom of the apartment you share with Gregory Marsh?"
"Yes," Kayla said.
Her voice was steady.
"A desk with financial folders.
A corkboard with printed spreadsheets.
A filing cabinet.
And a box under the desk."
"What was in the box?"
"Two passports.
Both in Gregory's name.
Different passport numbers."
"Did he give you permission to enter that room?"
"No."
"Had he ever shown you the contents of that room?"
"No.
He told me it was storage.
He kept it locked."
Whitmore objected.
Judge Hargrove overruled him.
"Ms.
Reeves," Patricia continued, "did Gregory Marsh ever tell you when he signed the lease on the apartment?"
Kayla looked at her hands for a moment.
"He told me January.
After the divorce was finalized."
"And when you discovered the actual lease date?"
"August 14th," Kayla said.
"The year before."
"What did you do with that information?"
"I called Claire," she said.
"His ex-wife."
A sound from Greg's table — not loud, but sharp.
Whitmore put a hand on his arm.
Patricia introduced the full photograph set into evidence.
The corkboard.
The folders.
The spreadsheets.
The passports.
Then she sat down.
Whitmore stood.
He turned to Kayla with the particular expression of an attorney who intends to make a witness feel small.
"Ms.
Reeves.
You entered a locked room without permission."
"Yes."
"You photographed private documents without permission."
"Yes."
"And you provided those photographs to Mr.
Marsh's ex-wife, who is currently pursuing a financial claim against him."
"Yes," Kayla said.
"I did all of those things."
Whitmore paused, apparently expecting more resistance.
"Why?" he asked.
Kayla looked at him directly.
"Because he lied to me," she said.
"About the lease.
About the divorce.
About the room.
About all of it." She paused.
"I'm twenty years old.
I'm not going to sit in a locked apartment and pretend I didn't see what I saw."
The courtroom was quiet.
Whitmore sat down.
Judge Hargrove looked at the documentation for a long moment.
Then she looked at Greg.
"Mr.
Marsh," she said.
"Your original asset disclosure listed no new financial commitments, no business interests, and no real property acquired during or proximate to the marriage.
The documentation before this court suggests otherwise.
Would you like to address that?"
Greg leaned toward Whitmore.
A whispered exchange.
Then Greg straightened up.
"Your Honor," he said, "the Riverside project was a speculative investment that I did not believe had sufficient value to—"
"Mr.
Marsh." Judge Hargrove's voice didn't rise.
"The question is not whether you believed it had value.
The question is whether you disclosed it.
Did you disclose it?"
A pause.
"No," Greg said.
The word landed in the room like something dropped from a height.
Judge Hargrove made a note.
She did not look up when she spoke again.
"I am referring this matter to the district attorney's office for review of potential perjury charges related to the original asset disclosure.
The asset freeze will remain in place.
A full financial audit will be ordered." She set down her pen.
"The original settlement is vacated pending the outcome of that audit.
Ms.
Harmon, your attorney will be in contact with the court regarding revised terms."
She looked at Greg one more time.
"Mr.
May you like
Marsh.
I strongly suggest you retain criminal counsel."
