My Town Exiles One Family Every Year To Stay “Perfect.” My Father Just Got A Promotion, And Now We Are Standing At The Border With Nothing. But Someone Is Waiting For Us In The Dark.
Taking a Stand
Two weeks later, I got a call from Rosa asking if I’d give a formal deposition for the FBI case. She explained it meant traveling to the federal building and being interviewed on video by prosecutors. The deposition would become official evidence used in court. I agreed immediately even though the idea terrified me. My parents said they’d come with me for support, and Rodrigo offered to wait in the lobby.
The morning of the deposition, I barely slept. We drove to the federal building in the city and went through security. A prosecutor named Michelle met us and explained the process. She said they’d ask detailed questions about everything I witnessed over 5 years. I should answer honestly and take my time.
The deposition room had cameras and recording equipment. Michelle and another prosecutor sat across from me with stacks of documents. They started with basic questions about when I first noticed the exile system and how it worked. Then they asked about specific exiles I witnessed.
I described my best friend’s family getting chosen when I was 13. I explained watching from my window as he loaded garbage bags into their van. I admitted ducking below the window when he waved goodbye because I was too scared to respond. Describing that cowardice out loud was the hardest part.
Michelle asked why I was scared, and I explained that helping exiled families meant your own family would be chosen next. She asked if that rule was enforced, and I described the sheriff’s department surrounding exiled homes to prevent anyone from approaching.
The questions continued for 4 hours. They asked about the Hendersons and John’s family and the patterns I noticed about founding families never being chosen. I explained how I tracked which families got exiled and realized the founding families were immune despite obvious rule violations. Michelle showed me documents and asked me to verify information. Every answer felt important, like I was building the case one detail at a time.
When we finally finished, I felt exhausted but also proud. I contributed something real to holding the founding families accountable. Sebastian met with me after the deposition while my parents waited in the lobby. He said my testimony about recognizing the founding family pattern was crucial evidence of systematic corruption. The fact that I noticed the pattern at 17 made it even more powerful. If a teenager could see the rigging, then the adults definitely knew and chose to stay silent.
He told me courage wasn’t about never being scared; it was about doing the right thing despite the fear.
I left the federal building feeling something I hadn’t felt since our exile—pride. Maybe I contributed something meaningful despite all my past failures. Maybe speaking up now mattered even though I stayed silent for so long.
Rodrigo met me in the lobby and gave me a fist bump. My parents looked proud and relieved. On the drive home, my father said he was impressed by how I handled the deposition. It was the first real compliment he’d given me since our exile, and I didn’t know how to respond so I just said, “Thanks.”
My mother reached back and squeezed my hand. We drove back to the exile town in silence, but it felt different from the heavy silence of those first weeks. This silence had hope in it.
