His Own Draft Files Followed Him Into The Deposition Room

The deposition room had one door and a broad window that did not open. I chose the chair with a clear view of the hall.

Mara set a glass of water near my hand.

"You can ask for a break," she said.

"I'm not the one answering today."

"You can still ask."

Hollister arrived seven minutes late. A court reporter set up her machine while Fray arranged three yellow pads in front of him.

The trust had supplied the shared project files in response to Mara's request. The accountant had reviewed the signed contract, invoices, payment records, and delivered work.

The extra $3,200 catalog was the same file already delivered under the main contract. Its cover page had changed. Its entries had not.

The four billed follow-ups had no recordings, notes, or signed session records. Each named witness denied taking part. Hollister had produced short scheduling emails instead.

Mara started with my supposed withdrawal.

"Please identify any written instruction from Ms. Mercer to remove these twenty-seven records."

"There were discussions."

"Were you present for a discussion in which she asked that?"

"Not in those words."

"In what words?"

He rubbed one thumb along his watchband.

"She wanted the crew protected."

I remembered that conversation. I had asked that personal numbers stay covered. The archive agreement said the same thing.

Mara put my email before him.

"Is this the discussion?"

"It may be."

"Where does it ask you to remove the departure order?"

"It doesn't specify that order."

"Where does it ask you to remove any operational record?"

Fray objected to the wording. Then he told Hollister to answer.

"It doesn't."

The reporter's keys made a sound like dry seeds falling into a tin.

Mara moved to Keisha's interview.

The project history showed an entry marked complete. Two days later, Hollister had changed it to driver not located for usable interview.

"You had interviewed her?"

"Yes."

"You had sent her the recording?"

"Yes."

"What did 'not located' mean?"

"It was shorthand."

"For what?"

"We didn't have an approved account."

"Approved by Ms. Dunbar?"

He looked at Fray.

"Approved for the project."

Then came a draft note Hollister had left in the trust's own file. It told an assistant to keep the east-route passage under his command section because a separate water-crew account would break the story's single line of leadership.

Mara asked whether he wrote it.

He said yes.

"Did you know the water crew stayed after your post team withdrew?"

"I learned they had stayed."

"Before you called Ms. Mercer a fraud?"

He took a drink.

"Yes. But she was making more of it than it was."

I pressed my palms against my knees. I had imagined that answer for weeks. Hearing it did not feel like victory. It felt like finding the crack after buying three wrong replacement parts.

At least I could stop guessing where the leak began.

After a break, Mara asked about the follow-up invoices. Hollister called them preparation fees. The contract required a recorded session for each $800 charge.

"Did these four sessions occur?"

"No recorded sessions occurred."

"Did any interview sessions occur?"

"No."

Fray closed one of his yellow pads.

Before the session ended, he asked whether Hollister's withdrawal had been authorized. Mara did not object. The answer was yes. A separate order had kept our water point open.

That mattered to me. Leaving under orders was not what he had done wrong. He had taken credit for work done after he left, then tried to erase the people who could correct him.

During the final break, I opened my working folder. Blue chalk had rubbed onto the inside cover. I wiped it away before it reached the exhibits. The marked copies had helped me find the gaps. The clean records had to speak for themselves now.

We left after four hours. In the hall, I found Keisha sitting with Ortega. She had driven him from the bus stop. He had come to give his own deposition the next morning.

"How was it?" he asked.

"Slow," I said. "Useful."

Keisha handed me a burrito wrapped in foil.

"That covers most repair work."

Ortega laughed, but his hand shook around his coffee. Keisha steadied the cup without making a fuss.

"Tomorrow you say what you saw," she told him. "You don't have to sound like anybody else."

The accountant's final report reached the board that week. It called for repayment of $6,400: $3,200 for undelivered follow-ups and $3,200 for the duplicate catalog charge.

The history reviewer rejected Hollister's response. The trust ended his vendor contract and removed him as history adviser under its board rules. He could submit a written appeal within fifteen days.

I expected another threat.

Instead, Mara called before supper.

"Fray wants a settlement meeting," she said. "His client is willing to discuss a public correction."