Chapter 8 - The Verdict
On December 12th, the jury came back.
It had taken them less than two hours to deliberate.
I sat in the front row of Courtroom 3, holding Mara Cruz's hand on my left and Renee's on my right. In the row behind us sat Sam, quietly attentive in a dark suit.
Derek stood at the defense table, his head bowed, his hands bound in stainless steel handcuffs behind his back. His high-priced Baltimore lawyer stood beside him, looking down at his desk with a flat, resigned expression.
"Will the defendant please rise," Judge Stern ordered.
Derek stood up awkwardly, his knees shaking so hard his orange trousers fluttered.
"Has the jury reached a unanimous verdict?" the judge asked, looking toward the twelve men and women sitting in the jury box.
The foreperson, a retired schoolteacher from Westminster, stood up and held a white paper folder in her trembling hands.
"We have, Your Honor," she said, her voice clear and resonant in the quiet room.
"On Count One: Attempted First-Degree Premeditated Murder of Grace Holloway. How do you find?"
"Guilty."
A collective gasp echoed through the gallery.
"On Count Two: Attempted First-Degree Premeditated Murder of Unborn Infant Noah Vance. How do you find?"
"Guilty."
"On Count Three: Attempted First-Degree Premeditated Murder of Unborn Infant Eli Vance. How do you find?"
"Guilty."
"On Count Four: Kidnapping. How do you find?"
"Guilty."
"On Count Five: Corporate Financial Fraud and Grand Larceny. How do you find?"
"Guilty."
The foreperson folded the paper and sat down.
Judge Stern looked over his half-moon reading glasses at Derek.
"Derek Julian Holloway," the judge said, his voice dropping into a register that sounded like a hammer hitting an anvil. "You committed an act of such calculated, cold-blooded cruelty that it shocks the conscience of this entire court. You used your position as a husband and a father-to-be to attempt the systematic execution of your family for financial gain."
He didn't pause. He didn't ask Derek if he had any last words.
"Under the sentencing guidelines of the State of Maryland, on Counts One, Two, and Three, I sentence you to three consecutive life terms without the possibility of parole," Judge Stern declared, slamming his wooden gavel down with a thunderous CRACK. "You will be transferred immediately to the Jessup Maximum Security Institution, where you will spend the remainder of your natural life. Court is adjourned."
The gallery exploded into noise.
Bailiffs moved in instantly, grabbing Derek by both upper arms and pulling him toward the side door that led down to the cell blocks beneath the courthouse.
As they dragged him through the door, he turned his head one last time.
He didn't look at his lawyer. He didn't look at the judge. He looked at me.
I stood up from my seat.
May you like
I didn't smile. I didn't shout. I didn't hold up my hands in victory.
I simply looked at him—warm, alive, surrounded by the people who had saved my life—and then I turned my back on him and walked out through the double oak doors into the bright, sunlit hallway.
