Chapter 8 - The Verdict
Two weeks after the gala, the federal trial of Jackson Moretti reached its final day.
I sat in the front row of the gallery alongside Marcus. Jackson stood at the defense table, wearing a crisp jumpsuit, his physical appearance severely altered after a year in federal custody. He had lost thirty pounds, his posture was hunched, and his arrogance was entirely gone.
Judge Vance sat on the bench, holding the jury’s sealed verdict envelope.
"Will the defendant please rise," Judge Vance ordered.
Jackson stood up, his legs visibly shaking. His public defender held his arm to keep him steady.
"On count one, felony domestic assault with a deadly weapon resulting in severe bodily harm: Guilty," the foreperson read aloud.
"On count two, federal wire fraud: Guilty."
"On count three, conspiracy to commit grand larceny: Guilty."
"On count four, bank fraud and identity theft: Guilty."
The verdict continued down all sixteen counts. Every single word was a nail in the coffin of Jackson’s former life.
Judge Vance set the paper down and looked at Jackson.
"Mr. Moretti," Judge Vance said, his tone heavy and solemn. "In my thirty years on the bench, I have rarely seen a case of such calculated, shameless cruelty. You took a vow to protect and honor your wife. Instead, you used her as a target for your insecurities, your greed, and your violence."
Jackson began to sob silently, his shoulders shaking.
"It is the sentence of this court," Judge Vance declared, "that you be remanded to the custody of the Federal Bureau of Prisons to serve a term of twenty-four years without the possibility of early parole. Furthermore, full financial restitution in the amount of $4.8 million is ordered to be paid to the victim from all remaining seized assets."
Twenty-four years.
Jackson turned toward the gallery, searching frantically for his family. But Genesis wasn't there. His father wasn't there. His cousins weren't there. The family that had cheered on his cruelty had abandoned him the moment the money ran out.
His eyes found mine.
In his tear-filled eyes, I saw an endless void of regret, fear, and ultimate defeat.
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I didn't smile. I didn't gloat. I simply looked at him with the quiet, absolute indifference he had earned.
The marshals snapped the heavy iron chains around his waist and legs, dragging him out through the heavy steel doors to serve his quarter-century sentence.
