Chapter 10 - The Mother-in-Law Under Oath|
Ruth Ellison wore navy blue to the evidentiary hearing.
I recognized the dress.
She'd purchased it for a charity gala and told me the color made her look authoritative.
That morning, she looked like a woman who had spent too much time rehearsing her answers.
The hearing focused on the authenticity of the disputed agreement and related authorizations.
Judge Porter had already received the parties' exhibit lists and witness disclosures.
The court had also arranged for the relevant forensic findings to be presented in an orderly manner.
Ruth sat in the witness chair.
Her diamond bracelet rested against the wooden armrest.
I wondered if she had worn it deliberately.
Perhaps she believed it made her look untouchable.
Daniel Mercer began with simple questions.
"Mrs. Ellison, did your son intend to divorce his wife?"
"Yes."
"Was Mrs. Ellison aware of that intention?"
"Eventually."
"Did you assist with the paperwork?"
"Only in an administrative capacity."
Ruth gave me a smug look.
"Andrew was devastated, and somebody had to help him."
Mercer asked whether she had personally forged any signature.
"Absolutely not."
Then he asked whether she believed the disputed agreement was genuine.
"Of course."
"Why?"
"Because I was told Mara had signed it."
The answer was carefully phrased.
I noticed.
When my turn came, I stood slowly.
"Good morning, Ruth."
She lifted her chin.
"Good morning."
"Do you remember March fourteenth?"
"Yes."
"Where were you that morning?"
"At the family offices."
"Did you see me there?"
She hesitated.
"I believe so."
"You believe so?"
"Yes."
"Did you personally watch me sign the settlement agreement?"
Ruth glanced toward Mercer.
"I saw the paperwork after it had been signed."
"So you didn't witness me signing it?"
"Not the actual moment."
I nodded.
"When did you first see the completed agreement?"
"I don't remember precisely."
"Was it before or after March fourteenth?"
She frowned.
"After, I suppose."
I displayed a previously admitted communication.
It was an email Ruth had sent to Stephen Calder's office on March tenth.
Four days before the supposed signing.
The subject line read: Completed Settlement Packet.
"Ruth, is that your email address?"
"Yes."
"Did you send this message?"
"It appears so."
"Would you read the sentence I've highlighted?"
She leaned toward the screen.
Her lips tightened.
"The agreement is ready to submit once the date is finalized."
I waited.
The courtroom remained silent.
"Ruth, why was the agreement described as completed four days before you claim I signed it?"
She adjusted her bracelet.
"Because the draft was completed."
"Then why did you attach a document containing a signature?"
Her face changed.
"I don't know."
I turned to the next exhibit.
"Do you recognize Janice Bell?"
"Of course."
"Did you contact her in January to ask about scanned notarizations?"
Ruth blinked.
"I may have."
"Did you ask whether a scanned signature could be reused?"
"No."
"Would you disagree with her sworn statement that you asked about the legal effect of scanned notarized documents?"
Mercer stood.
"Objection, argumentative."
Judge Porter looked at me.
"Rephrase."
I nodded.
"Did you ask Ms. Bell whether scanned documents could substitute for originals?"
Ruth swallowed.
"I asked a general question."
"Why?"
"For administrative reasons."
"What administrative reasons?"
"I don't remember."
I returned to my table.
Janice Bell had already testified earlier that morning.
She had identified her former notarial seal, explained her journal, and confirmed that she had never notarized my divorce agreement.
The document examiner had also explained the unusual exact matches between images on the disputed agreement and older records.
The examiner did not claim to know who had created the documents.
But the findings strongly supported the conclusion that reproduced images had been inserted into the purported agreement.
I approached Ruth again.
"Are you aware that the signature image on the agreement matches an older document?"
"I don't know anything about computers."
"Did you have access to that older document?"
"Probably."
"Did you maintain the foundation's administrative files?"
"Some of them."
"Who had access to your files?"
"Employees."
"Which employees?"
"I don't remember everyone."
I paused.
"Did Andrew have access?"
"He's my son."
"That doesn't answer the question."
"Yes."
"Did Frank?"
"Of course."
I looked at the judge.
"Your Honor, I have no further questions on the document's authenticity at this moment."
But Judge Porter wasn't finished.
She asked Ruth a question of her own.
"Mrs. Ellison, when your attorney requested the original agreement, why couldn't you provide it?"
Ruth stared at the bench.
"I was told everything was electronic."
"Who told you?"
"My son."
Andrew looked up sharply.
Ruth continued.
"He said it would be easier that way."
Judge Porter made a note.
"And who prepared the final document containing the purported signatures?"
Ruth's face drained of color.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she answered.
"Andrew said the family's finance office would take care of it."
I looked across the courtroom.
Andrew was staring at his mother.
His expression was no longer smug.
It was furious.
May you like
Because Ruth had just placed him at the center of the disputed paperwork.
And for the first time since our divorce began, my husband looked as though he wanted to escape the courtroom more than I did.
