Chapter 4 - The Deposition
Three weeks later, the sky over the county courthouse was a flat, slate grey.
The rain had stopped, leaving icy puddles across the concrete steps. I walked up those steps holding Tommy’s hand in my left and Ava’s in my right.
I had officially been granted emergency temporary sole custody by a family court judge two days after the incident. My military discharge paperwork was moving through channels, and I had already rented a small, three-bedroom house near a quiet elementary school two towns over, far away from the house with the white wedding ribbons.
Today was the preliminary hearing and deposition for the criminal case against Wade Miller.
The courthouse hallway was crowded with lawyers, reporters, and court officers. As we walked toward the family advocacy suite, I spotted Diane sitting on a bench near the glass doors, accompanied by a public defense attorney.
She looked hollowed out. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, she wore no makeup, and her clothes looked oversized on her thin frame. The District Attorney had officially charged her with misdemeanor child endangerment, offering her a plea deal that required full cooperation in the prosecution of Wade Miller and voluntary surrender of her custody rights pending long-term psychological evaluation.
When she saw us, she stood up quickly, taking two hesitant steps forward.
“Tommy... Ava...” she called out, her voice barely audible over the chatter of the hallway.
Tommy shrank back behind my leg, clutching my trousers tightly. Ava stopped, looking at her mother with a cool, distant composure that was far older than her twelve years.
“Hello, Mom,” Ava said quietly.
Diane broke down, covering her face with her hands, sobbing silently as her attorney placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and guided her back to the bench.
We entered the private conference room of the Special Victims Unit. Detective Vance was waiting for us, along with Assistant District Attorney Rachel Stern, a sharp, middle-aged woman with intense blue eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor.
“Mr. Miller, kids, thank you for coming,” Attorney Stern said, shaking my hand before offering warm smiles to Ava and Tommy. “We’ve reached a critical juncture in the case.”
“Is Wade taking a plea?” I asked, leaning against the conference table.
“His defense team tried to offer a plea for reduced charges last night,” Stern explained, opening a thick blue legal folder. “They wanted five years with probation. We flatly rejected it.”
She looked directly at Ava.
“Thanks to the digital evidence on Ava’s phone—the timestamped photos of the lock, the bruises, and the text messages Ava sent to her aunt and grandmother documenting the abuse—we have an airtight case of felony child abuse and torture. Combined with the testimony from his ex-wife in Pennsylvania, Wade Miller is looking at fifteen to twenty-five years in state prison.”
Ava let out a small, slow breath she seemed to have been holding for weeks. Her shoulders visibly dropped an inch.
“Does... does Tommy have to testify in court?” Ava asked nervously, glancing at her brother who was quietly drawing with crayons at a small side table.
“No, sweetheart,” Attorney Stern said gently, leaning down to Ava’s eye level. “Because of your brave actions, because you documented everything so carefully, your photos and your deposition are more than enough. Tommy will never have to step foot inside a courtroom. You saved him from that.”
Ava looked down at her hands. The wounds on her knuckles had healed into small, faint silver scars—permanent reminders of the night she fought for her brother’s freedom.
“What about Wade’s parents?” I asked.
Detective Vance stepped forward. “They were formally indicted yesterday for tampering with evidence and witness intimidation related to the seven-year-old Pennsylvania case. Their financial assets are currently frozen pending trial. They won't be paying off anyone ever again.”
A heavy, profound sense of justice filled the quiet room.
After the deposition concluded, we walked out of the courthouse through a side exit to avoid the local newspaper photographers. The cool autumn air felt fresh and clean against my skin.
As we reached my car, Ava stopped near the passenger door, looking up at the clear sky above the trees.
“Dad?” she asked softly.
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“When we get to the new house... can we get a dog?”
I looked at her, seeing a hint of the twelve-year-old girl who used to draw birds in her sketchbook, a child who was slowly, surely finding her way back out of the dark.
I smiled, dropping my hand onto her shoulder. “We can get two dogs, Ava. Whatever you want.”
May you like
Tommy popped his head out from behind the car door, his eyes wide with excitement. “Can one of them be big? Like Buddy?”
“As big as you want, buddy,” I promised, opening the car door for them.
