This is an authorized translation in English of a post in French by Vincent Le Roy (@vincentleroy): LE DOSSIER VALMY (Thriller) : Chapitre 1
As my primary language is not English, there are probably some mistakes in my translation.
Remember that the person who speaks here is NOT me, Vincent Celier (@vcelier), but Vincent Le Roy (@vincentleroy), a French guy.
Chapter 1: Welcome to Quebec
End of October 2007. The place is rather cozy. It is a law firm in the heart of Montreal, made up of these bright reds and cozy yellow light, with comfortable office furniture but without excess. No windows like most of the buildings in the old city. All in artificial light.
At the end of the hallway, there is this bowl. It is a one-eyed room used for interrogations with a large table, comfortable chairs and a service tray with coffee, tea and bottled water. At the end of the table, sits the clerk. She will enter in steno all the interviews that are also recorded on a small digital recorder. My lawyer salutes her and I imitate him. Our opponents are not yet there.
This is the first time I will discover their lawyer, a tall and dry guy who has made his career in the largest firm in Montreal to become a partner and even a director. His arrival is impressive. A trolley with a meter of binders, a trainee and, more withdrawn, his client.
By nature, I have always advanced in front of my opponents. Some would have withdrawn. For myself, my fear is externalized with this extended handshake. Their lawyer, slightly surprised by my arrogance, replies with this quizzical question:
Your trip went well, Mr Le Roy?
Excellent, counselor ...
He is right to be concerned about the quality of the trip, it is still his client who pays including my accommodation. All this to question me and try to make me confess. But to confess what? The whole theory of my opponents since the failure of the coup is to convince the authorities that I am a crook and try to legally take my company. The problem is that it's exactly the opposite and I have nothing to hide as far as I'm concerned.
The clerk brings us back to the reality of the day and cuts short these first perfectly dishonest courtesies. The silence returned, it gives us a procedural litany that brings a very provisional neutrality. In short, she opens the debate and I swear an oath. This formalism does not fail to make me smile. My Latin side comes up against this North American prudishness and I wonder if only one of these interrogations could one day allow to establish a truth ... After all, you answer what you want. But that is the way in Anglo-Saxon law, it is possible to conduct your own interrogations and use it on the day of the trial. Or not.
My opponent's lawyer is invited to officiate. He is very calm and smiling, while his trainee stares at me as if I were a criminal, joined in this by their client who is excited on his seat. This cunt thinks he will finally prove himself and send me back to dust. This idiot is Alex. 68 years old at the time. Retired, he manages a family fortune estimated at more than 700 million Euros. He has the best lawyer in a large Montreal law firm when I am satisfied with an independent lawyer and who does not have the infrastructure of a large firm. My lawyer is not there to advise me but to object in case a question is not relevant or disturbing. He may object at any time. The objections will then be considered by the Court and in the event that the court considers that I am obliged to answer, I will be obliged to return, at my expense this time. In other words, it is only appropriate to object for good reasons. And then, as I keep saying in this matter to my lawyers, "we have nothing to hide", so there should be no objections.
The interrogations are scheduled over 12 days which seems surreal to me for such a case. What will we tell each other for 12 days? The case is certainly not simple but we can go around in one day. The officially procedural step is only another maneuver of my opponents to achieve their ends, exhausting me, humiliating me and justify the theft of my company.
Because this is the issue for two years. A sinister commercial story where some of my associates, employees and Alex, this prick, tried to steal the technologies to sell them and get the jackpot. Given their financial power and all the armada of possible tricks, the eviction was to be conducted like a lightning war and leave me bloodless in a few weeks. Two years later, they still have to admit that the kid is still there, like Droopy constantly repeating "You know what?". Certainly my affairs are in bad shape, but, for their part, they are naked, with with a hand in front of a hand behind; minus the million dollar they have already given to their lawyers to finance the judicial steamroller that was supposed to lead to my surrender.
For the moment, I observe their lawyer, sitting in front of me and getting organized, picking on the trolley his files one after the other.
-- Vincent Le Roy
Continue to Chapter 2
