When it was my turn to testify, I wore a navy wool dress that belonged to my mother. It was simple, structured, and timeless. I didn’t look at Preston as I walked to the witness stand. I looked straight at the jury.
The prosecutor, an Assistant U.S. Attorney named Daniel Vance—again, no relation—guided me through the timeline with quiet precision.
“Mrs. Lawson,” he said, standing by the oak rail. “Direct your attention to Exhibit 44-B. Can you identify this document?”
“It’s a wire transfer authorization dated October 14, twenty-twenty-one,” I said, my voice echoing clearly through the microphone. “In the amount of four hundred and fifty thousand dollars, routed from Lawson Holdings’ primary capital reserve to an account held by Northgate Strategic LLC.”
“And who signed this authorization?”
“My husband, Preston Vance.”
“Did Lawson Holdings receive any goods or services in exchange for that transfer?”
“None,” I said. “Northgate Strategic was a shell company with no employees, no office address, and no commercial purpose other than to siphon funds into a personal brokerage account controlled by the defendant.”
Across the courtroom, Sterling stood up to object, mumbling something about speculation, but Judge Vance overruled him with a single wave of her hand.
