Chapter 5 - The Legal Meat Grinder
The federal building in downtown Chicago was surrounded by media vans. The sudden collapse of Sterling Group Logistics had sent shockwaves through the midwestern financial markets, and rumors of a massive international smuggling ring had leaked to the press within hours.
Eleanor and Jason Sterling arrived with an entourage of six criminal defense attorneys, their faces shielded by large sunglasses as cameras flashed around them. They still walked with the posture of the wealthy, believing their specialized legal defense team could find a procedural loophole to invalidate the asset freeze.
They were led into a secure, sixth-floor conference room for an emergency deposition regarding the temporary custody and safety orders for Sarah. Because the asset freeze was tied to a national security mandate, the proceeding was handled under strict federal oversight, bypassing the standard county family court system.
When Eleanor entered the room, she froze.
I was sitting at the end of the long conference table. I wasn't wearing my flannel shirt or my old mud-stained work boots. I wore my full dress uniform—the dark blue wool of a retired Marine Corps Chief Warrant Officer, the chest covered in rows of ribbons, including the Navy Cross and three Purple Hearts. Beside me sat the Assistant United States Attorney for the Northern District of Illinois, a sharp woman named Elena Rostova.
Jason’s jaw dropped. "What is this? This is a civil matter! Why is he in military uniform? This is intimidation!"
"Sit down, Mr. Sterling," AUSA Rostova said, her voice like a sheet of industrial ice. "This is a formal federal deposition under Title 18 of the United States Code. You are currently being investigated for human trafficking, conspiracy to commit murder, and the unlawful distribution of controlled substances."
Robert Stone, the high-priced defense attorney Jason had hired, stepped forward, his corporate confidence faltering as he saw the seal on the files in front of the prosecutor. "Now, wait a minute, counsel. My clients are prominent members of the community. This entire situation stems from a domestic dispute with a disgruntled spouse who has a history of—"
"If you say the word 'psychosis' or 'unstable,' Mr. Stone," I interrupted, my voice cutting through the room like a cold blade, "I will have the marshals outside arrest you for conspiracy after the fact. Your clients drugged my daughter with clinical-grade sedatives. We have the toxicology reports signed by the Chief Medical Officer of the United States Navy."
I threw a folder onto the center of the table. The glossy photographs inside showed the bruises on Sarah’s wrists, the jagged clumps of hair recovered from the bedroom floor, and the medical charts detailing the level of alprazolam in her blood.
May you like
Eleanor swallowed hard, her manicured fingers clutching her leather handbag until the stitching strained. "She was hysterical... we were only trying to protect her from her own erratic behavior. As her legal family, we had every right to intervene."
"You are not her family," I said, leaning forward, my pale blue eyes locking onto hers until she looked away. "You are targets in an active gray-space operation. And your time is up."
