Chapter 9 - The Trial of the TyrantsThe federal courtroom of the King County Superior Court was packed to capacity for the trial of The United States v. Arthur Vance and Marcus Vance.
I sat in the front row of the gallery, wearing a sharp navy blue suit that perfectly complemented the strength in my eyes. Beside me sat Adrian, his hand holding mine, his presence a constant, reassuring shield.
My father and brother sat at the defense table, wearing plain, dark jail jumpsuits. They looked thin, disheveled, and completely abandoned by the high-society friends who had once chased them for invitations.
The federal prosecutor presented the mountain of forensic evidence we had compiled. The spreadsheets, the offshore bank records, the recorded confessions, and the safety reports they had forged ten years ago were all laid bare before the jury.
"These men did not just steal a development project, ladies and gentlemen of the jury," the prosecutor said, his voice echoing through the silent courtroom. "They drove an honorable businessman to suicide, siphoned millions of public funds to pay off personal gambling debts, and sold their own daughter to a fake octogenarian to cover their tracks."
The jury deliberated for less than an hour.
"We, the jury, find the defendants, Arthur Vance and Marcus Vance, guilty on all counts of grand larceny, corporate fraud, bribery, and embezzlement," the foreperson announced.
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The judge slammed his gavel down. "Arthur Vance, you are sentenced to twelve years in a federal penitentiary. Marcus Vance, you are sentenced to fifteen years."
As my brother and father were led away in chains, Marcus turned to glare at me, his eyes filled with a desperate, wild hatred. But I didn't flinch. I stood up, buttoned my jacket, and walked out of the courtroom beside my husband, leaving the dark shadow of my family behind forever.
