Chapter 14 - The Interrogation
The interrogation room inside the federal detention facility was small, windowless, and oppressively sterile. The walls were painted a dull battleship gray, illuminated only by a harsh fluorescent overhead light fixture that hummed with a low, irritating frequency. A single metal table stood bolted to the center of the scuffed linoleum floor.
Elaine sat on one side of the table, her hands cuffed to a metal loop bolted to the wood. Her orange prison jumpsuit hung off her shrinking frame, and her face was pale, hollowed out by days of sleepless panic and grief. The arrogant, manipulative matriarch who had ruled her household with an iron fist and a smiling mask was completely gone, replaced by a broken, defeated old woman.
The heavy steel door swung open with a loud metallic click, and Agent Miller stepped inside, carrying a thick manila folder. He sat down across from Elaine, placing the folder on the table without a word.
Elaine raised her bloodshot eyes, her voice cracking as she spoke. 'When... when can I see my son? I want to speak to Daniel. I’m his mother. He has to listen to me.'
Agent Miller opened the folder, pulling out a printed copy of my deposition and several photographs of Lily living in squalor in the backyard. He slid them across the table toward her.
'Mr. Vance has no interest in speaking with you, Mrs. Vance,' Agent Miller said flatly, his voice devoid of any warmth. 'In fact, he and his wife left the state yesterday morning for a private residence in California, permanently cutting all ties with you and your son.'
Elaine stared at the photographs on the table, her lower lip trembling violently. A choked sob escaped her throat. 'I raised him... I sacrificed everything for him... how could he abandon me like this?'
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'You didn't sacrifice anything, Mrs. Vance,' Agent Miller replied, leaning forward, resting his forearms on the table. 'You stole his remittances for four years, funded your younger son's gambling debts, and systematically imprisoned, starved, and abused an innocent woman in your backyard. You didn't just break moral laws; you broke federal felony laws.'
He tapped the corner of the deposition document with his pen. 'Your defense attorney has already advised you that cooperating with federal prosecutors and pleading guilty to all charges is your only chance at avoiding a maximum thirty-year sentence without parole. So let's stop pretending you're the victim here. Sign the confession, Elaine, and accept the reality of the trap you built for yourself.'
