Chapter 8 - The Verdict
The jury deliberated for one hour and fourteen minutes.
When the heavy wooden doors of the jury room opened, the court reporter stood ready, her fingers hovering over her steno machine.
Evan stood at the defense table, his hands trembling violently beneath his sleeves.
“Will the defendant please stand,” Judge Vance ordered.
Evan stood up, leaning heavily against his attorney.
“Madam Foreperson,” Judge Vance said. “Has the jury reached a unanimous verdict?”
A woman in her fifties with grey hair and a practical wool sweater stood up in the front row of the box.
“We have, Your Honor.”
“On Count One: Wire Fraud in the amount of four point two million dollars?”
“Guilty.”
“On Count Two: Corporate Embezzlement?”
“Guilty.”
“On Count Three: Aggravated Extortion?”
“Guilty.”
“On Count Four: Aggravated Assault resulting in bodily harm?”
“Guilty.”
The word echoed four times through the silent courtroom, each one like a heavy stone falling onto an empty grave.
Evan didn't scream this time. He didn't curse. His knees simply gave out, and he collapsed back into his chair, covering his face with his pale, trembling hands.
Judge Vance did not waste time. She looked down at the pre-sentencing reports already cleared by the probation department.
“Evan Halstead,” Judge Vance said, her voice stern and unyielding. “You were given every advantage a young man could receive in this life: a loving family, an elite education, and a fortune built on honest labor. You threw it all away for greed, vanity, and violence against the woman who gave you life.”
She picked up her pen and signed the judgment order.
“On Counts One through Four, you are hereby sentenced to twenty-two years in the Federal Penitentiary at Allenwood, with no eligibility for early parole prior to eighteen years. You are further ordered to pay full restitution of four point two million dollars to the Halstead Charitable Trust.”
Crack.
The gavel fell.
I stood up, buttoned my navy wool coat, and picked up my purse.
As the marshals stepped forward to cuff Evan and lead him through the rear holding door, he finally looked up.
His eyes met mine across the empty courtroom. His face was stained with tears, his mouth working silently, desperate to find one last word, one last plea, one last lie to save himself.
I looked at him for three long seconds.
May you like
I didn't smile. I didn't scowl. I gave him a simple, quiet nod—the same nod Richard gave when a contract was finalized and the book was closed forever.
Then I turned my back and walked out into the snow.
