Chapter 16 - Under OathAdrian looked smaller under oath.
Not physically. He was still handsome in the way weak men can be handsome when groomed by generations of money: good bones, expensive skin, eyes trained to look wounded instead of guilty.
But under oath, without his mother beside him and without a party to charm, he seemed reduced.
A boy wearing a man’s suit in a room full of adults.
The hearing was closed to the public due to ongoing criminal proceedings, but I attended by video. My voice had strengthened enough for short sentences, though each one still cost me. A doctor sat nearby to monitor fatigue. My mother sat close enough that Adrian could see her over my shoulder.
That pleased me.
Albright began with the sworn statement Adrian had given Cordelia’s counsel.
“Mr. Voss, you stated that Ms. Greer threatened to destroy your family if you left her. When did this conversation occur?”
Adrian swallowed. “Several weeks before the accident.”
“Where?”
“In our bedroom.”
“What exact words did she use?”
“I don’t remember exact words.”
“But you swore to the statement.”
“Yes.”
“Based on memory?”
“Yes.”
“Memory of words you do not remember?”
His attorney objected.
The judge allowed the question.
Adrian looked miserable.
Albright continued. “Did Ms. Greer know at that time about the forged insurance policy?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you?”
Silence.
“Yes.”
“Did Ms. Greer know about Felix Ward?”
“No.”
“Did you?”
His eyes flicked toward the camera.
Toward me.
“Yes.”
Albright moved slowly, methodically, tightening the net one knot at a time.
“Mr. Voss, when you said Ms. Greer threatened to destroy your family, is it possible what she actually said was that if she found evidence of fraud, she would report it?”
Adrian’s mouth opened.
Closed.
“I don’t remember.”
Albright placed a document on the projector.
An email.
From me to Adrian, sent six days before the fall.
Adrian, I found irregularities in the foundation accounts. I want to discuss them with you privately before I decide whether outside reporting is required. If there is an explanation, now is the time to give it.
Albright looked at him.
“Is this the threat?”
Adrian’s face reddened.
“I felt threatened.”
“By accountability?”
Objection.
Sustained.
But the point had landed.
Then came my turn.
Not as attorney.
As witness.
The judge allowed limited questions through Albright due to my medical condition.
Albright turned toward the screen.
“Ms. Greer, did you ever threaten to fabricate allegations against the Voss family?”
“No.”
“Did you tell Adrian Voss you would report financial crimes if you confirmed them?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I breathed slowly.
“Because. Crimes. Are. Crimes.”
Adrian looked down.
Albright asked, “Did you love your husband?”
The question struck harder than I expected.
I could have said no.
It would have been cleaner.
But truth is not clean because we prefer it that way.
“Yes.”
Adrian’s head lifted.
For a moment, hope moved across his face.
I let him have it for half a second.
Then Albright asked, “Did that love change your obligation to report wrongdoing?”
“No.”
The hope died.
Good.
Albright turned back to Adrian.
“Mr. Voss, after Ms. Greer fell from the balcony, did you tell responding officers that she had been drinking?”
Adrian whispered, “Yes.”
“Had she?”
“No.”
“Did you tell doctors she had seemed unstable that evening?”
“Yes.”
“Had she?”
“No.”
“Did you tell anyone the railing had been tampered with?”
“No.”
“Did you stand by the ICU door while your mother obstructed Ms. Greer’s airway?”
His attorney objected violently.
The recording answered before the judge did.
Albright played Adrian’s own voice.
“Let me stand by the door.”
The room went silent.
Adrian began crying again.
But this time, no one looked moved.
Not even his attorney.
Albright approached the final question carefully.
“Mr. Voss, who asked you to sign the sworn statement accusing Ms. Greer of threatening the family?”
Adrian wiped his face.
“My mother’s attorney brought it.”
“Did your mother request it?”
“I got a message.”
“From whom?”
He hesitated.
Albright waited.
Everyone waited.
Finally, Adrian said, “From her.”
“Cordelia Voss contacted you despite a no-contact order?”
He closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“How?”
He looked destroyed.
“Through Father Paul.”
The courtroom shifted.
A priest.
A spiritual adviser.
A man who had visited Adrian in detention under pastoral privilege.
Cordelia had used even confession as a courier.
The judge ordered an immediate inquiry. Father Paul was subpoenaed. Cordelia’s communications restrictions tightened. Adrian’s statement was discredited before it could fully breathe.
When the hearing ended, Adrian looked into the camera.
“Lily,” he said.
I leaned forward slightly.
My mother’s hand touched my arm, not stopping me, just steadying me.
I spoke clearly enough that every microphone caught it.
May you like
“My name is Lillian.”
Then I ended the call.
