Chapter 11 - Mark Vance’s Federal Interrogation
At 8:00 a.m., the fluorescent lights of the federal holding facility in Lower Manhattan buzzed with an irritating hum.
Mark Vance sat handcuffed to a metal table in Interrogation Room B, his tailored grey suit completely ruined, his eyes red from crying.
The door clicked open, and Sarah walked in, accompanied by two federal prosecutors holding thick legal folders.
Mark looked up, a desperate glimmer of hope flashing in his eyes.
“Sarah! Thank God!” Mark sobbed, pulling against the chain on his handcuffs. “Tell them I didn't know the full extent of my father’s network!”
“Tell them I was just following orders! We’re still married, Sarah! Spousal privilege protects us!”
Sarah sat down across from him, folding her hands neatly on the metal table, her expression as hard as granite.
“Spousal privilege does not apply to joint criminal conspiracies against the United States, Mark,” Sarah informed him coolly.
“And furthermore, our marriage was officially annulled thirty minutes ago by a federal judge due to pervasive identity fraud on your marriage license.”
Mark stared at her, his jaw dropping in horror as the legal reality crushed his last remaining escape route.
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“You’re facing forty-five years in a maximum-security federal penitentiary in Florence, Colorado, Mark,” the lead prosecutor stated, dropping a document in front of him.
“Your only option to avoid spending the rest of your life in solitary confinement is to sign this plea agreement and testify against the remaining syndicate bosses.”
