26.

The deposition of George Marsh could go only one of two ways success or disaster. If a success, Brent would be able to present his entire testimony live at the trial. If a disaster, anything that was not answered by Marsh in the deposition would not be allowed into evidence during his testimony.

Brent was breaking new ground in presenting a witness by means of augmentative and alternative communication. There was no case law that he found that could support it. On the other hand, that also meant that there was no case law against it.

The bank would challenge George Marsh's competency to testify and the judge, not the jury, would be the one who would decide whether to allow his testimony by means of AAC or not. So there were two hurdles to jump through to get Marsh's testimony before the jury at trial.

Brent had little time to prepare Marsh, because he didn't want to wear him out for the ordeal that lay ahead, so he had gone through the basics, mostly to establish a rhythm with Dr. Senlon, who would be interpreting Marsh's communications.

George Marsh was strapped in a wheelchair equipped with a neck brace next to the court reporter. Dr. Senlon sat in a chair by his side, dressed in a smart, crisp suit, looking very doctorly.

After they had settled in, Bill Black showed up with Bernstein. Black, Bernstein's personal lawyer, was a rough and tumble litigator with 30 years behind his belt. True to his name, he wore a jet black suit with a dark blue shirt and a purple tie, which accentuated the blue rays in his hazel eyes. Bernstein trained his eyes on Marsh as he took a seat. He looked like he was searching for some kind of reaction. Five minutes later, Joe Stein himself took his place at the conference table. Stein stole the spotlight immediately.

"Counsel, before we go on the record, I would like to make it perfectly clear that if this deposition is handled the same way as the Bernstein deposition, not only will we seek sanctions, but we will also be making a complaint to the Bar for unethical conduct."

"Let's go on the record," Brent said to the Court Reporter. "Please Mr. Stein, tell me what you just told me."

"I'm not a witness here," said Stein.

"Oh, but you are. You just threatened me."

"Counsel, I merely reminded you of your ethical obligations and that you would be held to answer to any unethical conduct."

"And may I remind you, Mr. Stein, that this may be your deposition, but any pressuring of this witness will result in my seeking sanctions."

"Please swear in Mr. Marsh and Dr. Senlon," Brent said to the court reporter. "Mr. Marsh," said Stein, ignoring Brent, "Can you please state your name for the record?"

Senlon began pointing to symbols on the symbol board and stated, "George," and then, "Marsh. My name is George Marsh."

"Excuse me, Madame, but Mr. Marsh must speak for himself," said Stein.

"He is speaking for himself," said Brent. You knew full well that we are using Dr. Senlon for augmentative and alternative communication. You have a copy of her CV right here."

"That is something that will never pass in court, especially after my motion in limine," snorted Stein.

"You can make whatever motions you want, Mr. Stein, but there being no judge for this deposition, I suggest you continue your questioning."

The deposition went on for a grueling two hours until Brent requested a recess. Each answer took an incredibly long time for Marsh to answer, and Stein had not even finished the preliminaries. Brent saw that Stein's main objective was to break Marsh down.

"Mr. Marsh needs a break."

"If we break every two hours, we'll never get done at this pace," said Stein.

"Off the record," said Brent, and Senlon wheeled Marsh out.

"Marks, do you really want to torture this old man?" asked Stein.

"You're the one torturing him."

"You know what I mean. The judge is never going to allow this. You think I like making hamburger out of this poor guy for no reason?"

"Grind away, Mr. Stein. Mr. Marsh is not a well man. His testimony needs to be preserved. The federal rules give you seven hours with him. At that point, I'm going to have my direct with him."

Stein ran the marathon with Marsh, exhausting him physically and mentally. What made it even more difficult was that everything seemed to be in slow motion. Marsh had to listen to the question, and then Senlon had to interpret the answer, which took the longest amount of time. The process must have been most frustrating for Marsh, who had a story to tell, but was limited by the means. Throughout the ordeal, Bernstein kept his intimidating eyes trained on Marsh. Thankfully, Stein ran through his communications with Bernstein, who proposed the loan, and identified Marsh's loan application, which was made out in Bernstein's handwriting. Finally, on the last minute of the last hour, Stein, although not finished, was obliged to turn over the witness to Brent, but at that time, Marsh was exhausted and his brain was nothing but Swiss cheese.

"Mr. Marsh, Exhibit A is your loan application is this in your handwriting?"

Marsh indicated to Senlon and Senlon said, "No."

"Did you see who wrote this application?"

"Yes."

"Who was it?"

"Mr. Bernstein."

"Was it done in his office?"

"Yes. I brought my papers to his office, he made the application and I signed it."

"Did you propose that Mr. Bernstein help you with a loan on your home?"

"No, Mr. Bernstein proposed it."

"What did he say he could do for you in terms of making a loan?"

"Objection," said Black. "Hearsay."

"You can answer, Mr. Marsh."

Marsh looked at Bernstein, who regarded him with a cold, dead stare.

"He said that we could get into a sub-prime loan, but not to worry, because the property value was strong enough to refinance it in 24 months."

"And were you able to refinance in 24 months?"

"No. Mr. Bernstein said we didn't qualify and that we would have to be delinquent in our payments to apply for a loan modification instead of a refinance."

"And did you stop making payments?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because it was the only way to get a lower monthly payment."

"Mr. Marsh, I'm going to show you a document and ask if you can identify it."

Dr. Senlon held the papers for Mr. Marsh to slowly read, then he indicated, "This looks like the loan modification request."

"And what was the result of that request?"

"It was denied."

"After the denial of your loan modification, did you resume making payments?"

"Yes, but we were always behind."

"Mr. Marsh, do you remember getting a letter from Prudent Bank in September 2008, telling you where to send your new payments?"

"Yes."

"Does this look like the letter?" asked Brent, holding it up for Marsh to read.

"Yes."

"And who did you understand your lender would be after this letter?"

"Prudent Bank."

"So, in reliance on this letter, you made your monthly payments to Prudent Bank."

"Objection," said Stein.

"Correct," said Senlon.

"Mr. Marsh, do you remember the night of November 25, 2008?"

Marsh's eyes started to twitch, and tears welled up in them.

"Yes."

"Tell me what you remember about that night when you and your wife were attacked."

"There were three of them who came at me," said Marsh. "They were all wearing masks, but I was able to pull one off right before I was knocked out."

"Did you recognize the man whose mask you pulled off?"

Marsh's eyes began to twitch again, and tears flowed down his cheeks.

"It was you!" he exclaimed.

"Who?"

"It was you!"

"I wasn't sure at first, but now I'm positive it was you."

The tears continued to flow down Marsh's cheeks and he began to cough and sputter, like a boiled over coffee pot.

"I think he needs a break," said Senlon.

"Mr. Marks, your time is up anyway," said Stein.

"But I'm not finished."

"Yes, you are. This is my deposition and the seven hours are up. I will not stipulate to more. Off the record please, Ms. Court Reporter."

Stein, Bernstein and Black got up in unison and walked out of the conference room.

"Stay on the record please, these gentlemen are still here. I am going to move for a protective order to continue this deposition. The motion will be filed tomorrow."

"File what you wish," said Stein, as the three left Brent's office.

27.

Brent left the office around 2 a.m., after having finished the motion and filing it electronically. The nagging grief that was always on his mind since Rick Penn went missing was like a horrible weight on his head a weight he had to drag around every day. He had been ignoring the pangs of hunger from his stomach until his body was too tired to pay attention to them anymore. When he had finally caught himself reading the same passage over and over again in the same case, he had decided to call it quits and go home to get some sleep.

Brent exited the office, laptop slung over his shoulder, and fished in his pocket for the keys to lock up. Suddenly, he was slammed up against the wall, face first, like he had been hit by a truck. He tried to turn and look at his attacker, but two strong gloved hands grabbed his head and smashed it into the wall. Then he was bailed through the doorway, like a baggage handler would throw a suitcase. When Brent was brave enough to raise his head, he saw two men in ski masks, who began to kick him and stomp on him, as if they were trying to kill a snake. Then, the lights went out.

When Brent came to, he felt the pain that so permeated his body, it was impossible for him to assess his injuries. He surveyed the office as best he could under the circumstances. His laptop was gone, as was Melinda's computer, and file folders and their spilled contents wallpapered the floor in a kind of collage of yellow and white paper. The file cabinets were all open and askew.

Brent tried to get up, but only got as far as his knees, which screamed in pain, and he fell back to the floor. He crawled to Melinda's desk, and climbed up the leg of it. As he reached the top, searing pains shot through his right rib cage. He reached the phone, dialed 911, and then passed out again.

As objects were coming into focus in Brent's hospital room, a few blocks away, in Sunny Acres Assisted Living Home, two shadows slipped into the room of George Marsh.

It was like the creepiest nightmare hearing something in the room but not being able to scream. As the two dark figures came into view, a surge of adrenalin rushed through George Marsh's arteries. He tried to run, but he could not get up. His eyes recoiled in terror as one masked figure raised his ski mask over his forehead, his lips stretched over his yellow teeth. And George Marsh pissed himself.

"It's us, old man," said the thug. "We've come to finish the job."

George's eyes wildly scanned the room, looking for help. He tried to scream, he tried to run, but it was no use. His brain commanded, but the body could not obey. The dark shadow of the pillow was the last thing George Marsh saw, as it was pushed against his face, taking the last bit of life he had.