Chapter 7 - Gathering the Evidence
With Rebecca’s decision to testify, Eleanor Vance shifted their legal strategy from defensive to aggressive.
“If we’re going to destroy Trevor’s defense, we need more than just Rebecca’s testimony,” Eleanor told the team in their strategy session. “We need a pattern of behavior. Abusers rarely start with their current victims.”
Arthur’s private investigator, Marcus, a former federal agent, pulled out a thick black folder and laid it on the table.
“Trevor was married once before,” Marcus revealed, sliding a photograph across the table.
Rebecca gasped. The photo showed a young woman with dark hair, her eyes filled with a familiar, hollow fear.
“Her name is Samantha Cole,” Marcus continued. “They were married for two years in college. She filed for a restraining order against him seven years ago in Ohio, but the case was dismissed after Trevor’s family paid her a small settlement to drop it. She signed a Non-Disclosure Agreement.”
“An NDA won't stand up in a criminal trial under subpoena,” Eleanor said, her eyes flashing. “Can we find her?”
“I already did,” Marcus said with a cold smile. “She lives in Seattle now. She’s a schoolteacher. When I told her what happened to Rebecca, she agreed to break her NDA and testify.”
Meanwhile, Rebecca spent hours reviewing their old phone records, financial statements, and cloud storage accounts. Hidden deep within a backed-up digital folder on their shared family laptop, she found something Trevor thought he had deleted months ago: voice memos.
Whenever Trevor used to go on his long, drunken rages at night, Rebecca had quietly turned on the voice recorder app on her phone, hiding it under the couch cushions. She had forgotten all about them in the chaos of her escape.
She clicked on a file dated four months prior.
Trevor’s voice filled the room, harsh and terrifying: “You think you’re smart because your dad’s rich? You’re nothing without me! You’re useless! If you ever leave me, I’ll make sure you never see Emma again!”
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Followed by the sound of glass shattering and Rebecca’s desperate pleading.
Eleanor Vance stood up from her chair, a look of grim triumph on her face. “That’s it. That is the smoking gun. His defense of ‘self-defense’ is completely dead.”
