Chapter 8: The Hearing
The preliminary hearing was on a Wednesday morning in late September.
Courtroom 4B of the Wake County Courthouse was smaller than I had imagined — pale wood paneling, fluorescent light, three rows of gallery seats that were mostly empty.
Jonathan sat beside me at the respondent's table.
Across the aisle, Ethan sat with Cassandra Foyle, who was acting as his legal counsel.
It was the first time I had seen him since he left for Hilton Head.
He looked like he hadn't slept well.
His suit was correct but his face was tight, and when I walked in he looked at me and then looked away first.
Cassandra Foyle was composed.
Blonde, early forties, a dark blazer.
She arranged her documents with the efficiency of someone who had done this many times.
She did not look at me.
The judge was the Honorable Patricia Wynn.
Late fifties, reading glasses on a chain, the expression of a woman who had heard every version of every story and was interested only in what could be proven.
"This is a preliminary hearing on a petition for equitable distribution of real property," she said.
"I've reviewed both filings.
Mr.
Reed, your response raises a threshold question about the validity of the petition itself.
I'd like to address that first."
Jonathan stood.
"Thank you, Your Honor.
The respondent's position is that the petition fails at the threshold because the petitioner was fully and formally informed of the property's ownership status prior to the marriage.
We have a signed acknowledgment document, witnessed and dated, in which the petitioner confirmed his understanding that the property was the sole property of the respondent and would not constitute marital property."
He placed the document on the judge's bench.
Judge Wynn examined it.
"Ms.
Foyle," she said.
"Response?"
Cassandra Foyle stood.
"Your Honor, the petitioner's position is that the acknowledgment was signed under conditions that did not allow for full legal comprehension.
The petitioner was twenty-eight years old, grieving the recent loss of his future father-in-law—"
"The document is dated three weeks before the wedding," Judge Wynn said.
"The father-in-law passed fourteen months prior."
A pause.
"Yes, Your Honor.
However, the petitioner contends—"
"Ms.
Foyle, the document is witnessed, dated, and unambiguous.
The petitioner had independent legal counsel available to him at the time of signing.
Did he consult independent counsel?"
Another pause.
"He did not, Your Honor."
"That was his choice to make." Judge Wynn set the document down.
"Continue."
Cassandra Foyle continued.
She was good — methodical, calm, making the strongest possible case from a weak position.
She argued continuous residency, financial contribution, the equitable nature of a long marriage.
Jonathan responded to each point.
The financial records.
The maintenance fund.
The bank statements showing every property tax payment made from my personal account.
Then he placed the Charlotte apartment lease on the judge's bench.
"Your Honor, the petitioner's claim of continuous residency at the marital property is contradicted by this lease, in which the petitioner maintained a separate residence in Charlotte, North Carolina, for a period of at least fourteen months following the marriage.
The co-occupant listed on that lease is Ms.
Foyle herself."
The gallery was empty, but the room still felt like it contracted.
Judge Wynn looked at the lease.
Then at Cassandra Foyle.
Then at Ethan.
Ethan's jaw tightened.
"Ms.
Foyle," the judge said, "I want to be direct with you.
You are representing a petitioner in an equitable distribution claim while simultaneously appearing on documentation as a party with a personal interest in that petitioner's living arrangements.
Are you aware of the ethical implications of that position?"
Cassandra Foyle's composure did not break.
But something shifted behind it.
"Your Honor, I—"
"I'm not asking for an argument.
I'm asking whether you are aware."
A beat.
"Yes, Your Honor."
"Good." Judge Wynn made a note.
"I'm going to take a fifteen-minute recess.
When we return, I expect a clear answer from the petitioner's table about whether current counsel intends to continue in this matter."
She stood.
Everyone stood.
During the recess, Jonathan and I sat at our table while Ethan and Cassandra Foyle moved to the far corner of the room and spoke in low, rapid voices.
I watched them without watching them — the angle of Ethan's shoulders, the way Cassandra's hand came up once in a gesture that looked like emphasis, or warning.
"She's telling him it's over," Jonathan said quietly beside me.
"Is it?"
"The lease document alone creates a conflict of interest that could get her sanctioned.
She'll withdraw.
He'll need new counsel.
The petition will almost certainly be dismissed today or continued without a realistic path forward."
"And if he finds new counsel?"
"He's welcome to.
But the acknowledgment document doesn't change.
The financial records don't change.
And now there's a judge who has seen the lease and made a note." Jonathan folded his hands on the table.
"He has nothing left to threaten you with, Ava."
I thought about the voicemail.
*Things are going to come out that are going to be embarrassing for both of us.
I have emails.*
"He said he had private communications," I said.
"Things I said about Diane.
About the marriage."
"Private communications between spouses in a non-criminal matter are rarely admissible and almost never persuasive.
And frankly, given what's been established about his conduct, a judge is unlikely to be moved by evidence that a wife said unkind things about a mother-in-law who was making her life difficult."
I almost smiled.
Judge Wynn returned.
Cassandra Foyle stood.
"Your Honor, the petitioner's counsel is withdrawing from this matter effective immediately due to a conflict of interest."
Judge Wynn nodded as though she had expected nothing else.
"Mr.
Mercer," she said, looking directly at Ethan.
"You are now unrepresented.
I can continue this hearing to allow you time to retain new counsel, or you may choose to withdraw the petition voluntarily.
I will tell you plainly that based on the documentation before me, this petition faces significant obstacles.
That is not a ruling.
It is an observation."
Ethan looked at the table.
Then he looked at me.
It was the longest he had looked at me since I walked in.
I held it.
"I'd like to withdraw the petition," he said.
"Voluntarily and with prejudice?" Judge Wynn said.
A pause.
"Yes, Your Honor."
"So noted." She made the entry.
"The petition is dismissed with prejudice.
Mr.
Reed, your client's legal fees in this matter — do you intend to seek recovery?"
Jonathan glanced at me.
I gave the smallest nod.
"We do, Your Honor."
"File the motion by end of week." She closed the folder.
"We're adjourned."
She stood and left.
The room was quiet.
Ethan gathered his papers slowly.
He didn't look at the table where I sat.
He walked toward the door, and then he stopped.
He turned back.
"I did love you," he said.
"In the beginning.
I want you to know that."
I looked at him.
"I know," I said.
"It just wasn't enough to make you honest."
He left.
The door swung shut behind him.
Jonathan exhaled slowly beside me.
"It's done," he said.
I looked at the empty doorway.
May you like
"Yes," I said.
"It is."
