Chapter 5 - The Deposition of Brenda ClantonOn Thursday morning at ten o'clock, the small conference room at the Chatham County Courthouse was freezing. The court reporter, a middle-aged woman with silver-framed glasses named Mrs. Kowalski, was methodically running testing tape through her steno machine, the tiny mechanical clicks sounding like crickets in an empty grain bin.
Across the table sat Frank Sterling, wearing a dark navy suit that looked like it had been pressed with an iron that was too hot; the lapels had a faint, greasy shine under the fluorescent bulbs. Beside him sat Brenda Clanton.
Brenda looked twenty years older than she had on Friday when she handed me Mabel’s birthday card at the company picnic. She had left her gold hoop earrings at home. She wore a high-necked brown cardigan buttoned to the throat, her hands clenched in her lap so tightly her knuckles were yellow.
I sat at the other end of the table alone.
I had my military legal notebook open, three yellow highlighters laid out in parallel lines, and the certified four-page power of attorney resting in the center of the mahogany veneer.
"We are on the record," Mrs. Kowalski announced, her fingers hovering over the keys. "Deposition of Brenda L. Clanton, in the matter of Baker Landworks, Inc. v. Rosalie Hollis Baker, Chatham County Superior Court."
I looked across the table at the woman who had notarized the instrument that tried to steal my mother’s home.
"State your full legal name and address for the record, please," I said.
"Brenda Louise Clanton," she whispered. "4122 Habersham Street, Savannah."
"And what is your current occupation, Ms. Clanton?"
"I’m... I’m the office manager at Baker Landworks."
"How long have you been employed by Warren Baker?"
"Sixteen years next month."
I pulled Exhibit A toward me—the altered option agreement bearing her circular notary seal.
"Ms. Clanton, I am showing you what has been marked as Defendant’s Exhibit A. Do you recognize this document?"
Her eyes darted to Frank Sterling. Sterling was staring down at his yellow legal pad, drawing small, tight concentric circles in the upper left corner with a red ballpoint pen. He did not look up.
"Yes," she said.
"Is that your signature on page four?"
"Yes."
"And is that your official notary seal affixed over your signature?"
"Yes."
"Ms. Clanton, on March 14, 2024, the date this document was executed, where did you sign it?"
"In the front office," she said. Her voice was barely a thread. "At the front desk."
"Who was present in the room when you signed it?"
"Mr. Baker. And Daniel."
"Was Rosalie Hollis Baker present?"
"No," Brenda said, her eyes dropping to the mahogany table.
"Did you know where Rosalie Hollis Baker was on March 14, 2024?"
"Frank, do you want to object?" Brenda asked, her voice cracking into a high, frightened squeak.
Frank Sterling did not look up from his concentric circles. "Answer the question, Brenda."
"I... I knew she was in the Army," Brenda whispered. "I knew she was overseas."
"Did you ask Daniel Baker if he had the authority to sign a real estate option on her behalf?"
"Mr. Baker said he did."
"Warren Baker said he did?"
"Yes."
"Did Warren Baker give you the power of attorney that Daniel was supposedly using?"
"Yes."
I pulled Exhibit B toward me—the four-page certified military power of attorney—and slid it across the table until it rested directly against Brenda’s folded hands.
"Ms. Clanton, I want you to look at paragraph seven on page three of Defendant’s Exhibit B. Would you read the bold sentence aloud for the court reporter, please?"
Brenda’s lips moved silently for four seconds before she could find her voice.
" 'This power of attorney is strictly limited to ordinary household administration... It DOES NOT include, authorize, or permit the sale, conveyance, mortgage, option, lease exceeding thirty days, encumbrance, or partition of any interest in real property...' "
"Thank you, Ms. Clanton," I said smoothly. "Now look at the copy of that document that was attached to the complaint filed by Mr. Sterling on Friday afternoon. How many pages does that copy have?"
She didn't need to look. Her shoulders dropped two inches, the cardigan sagging against her chest.
"Three," she said.
"Who removed page three, Ms. Clanton?"
The room went dead silent. The only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioner and the rhythmic, dry click of Mrs. Kowalski’s steno machine recording the pause.
Frank Sterling’s red pen stopped moving. The point dug into the yellow paper until the ballpoint tore a tiny, three-cornered flap in the margin.
"I need an answer, Ms. Clanton," I said, keeping my voice as soft and steady as a doctor taking a pulse. "You are under oath. You are subject to the penalties of perjury under O.C.G.A. § 16-10-70. If you answer truthfully, your testimony will be considered by the district attorney in determining whether you acted with criminal intent or under administrative duress. Who removed page three?"
Brenda began to cry.
The tears came without a sound, running down the wrinkles at the corners of her nose and dropping onto the high collar of her cardigan.
"Mr. Baker came into my office with the scissors," she sobbed, pulling a crumpled tissue from her sleeve. "He told me the bank in Atlanta wouldn't fund the acquisition loan if there were restrictions in the exhibits. He told me... he told me it was just for the loan file, that nobody was ever going to look at it because Rosalie was family and she’d sign whatever Daniel told her to sign when she got home from the desert."
"Did you photocopy the document without page three?"
"He stood over the machine," she wept. "He stood right behind me, Rosalie. He smelled like his cigars. He told me if I couldn't handle simple administrative tasks, he’d find someone who could and I wouldn't have my medical insurance for my hip surgery in July. I’ve worked there sixteen years. I don't have another pension."
I turned to Frank Sterling.
Sterling had his face in his hands now. The red pen lay abandoned on the yellow pad.
"Mr. Sterling," I said. "Do you have any questions for this witness?"
Sterling shook his head slowly from side to side without looking up. "No questions."
"We will suspend the deposition," I told the reporter. "Mrs. Kowalski, please prepare an expedited transcript. Deliver two copies to my office at 410 Ridge Road, and one copy to the Chief Assistant District Attorney for Chatham County, attention Special Prosecutions Division."
Brenda Clanton looked up at me through her wet, smudged glasses. "Rosalie... please. I didn't want to hurt Mabel. I bought her that little dress for her third birthday, remember? The yellow one with the ducks?"
I closed my legal notebook and slid my three highlighters into my briefcase.
May you like
"I remember the dress, Brenda," I said. "And that is why you are going to walk over to the state’s attorney’s office this afternoon with your own lawyer and sign an immunity agreement before Warren Baker finds out what you told me in this room."
I stood up, fastened the brass locks of my briefcase, and walked out into the marble corridor.
