Chapter 7 - The Verdict and the Sentence
The jury deliberated for less than ninety minutes.
When the twelve men and women returned to the courtroom, the atmosphere was so tense that no one in the gallery dared to breathe.
Ethan stood up at the defense table, his legs trembling so badly that two court deputies had to hold his arms to keep him upright.
"In the matter of the People of the State of California versus Ethan Vance," Judge Harrison read from the official verdict sheet, her voice steady and stern. "On Count One, felony assault with a deadly weapon—we find the defendant, Guilt."
A quiet gasp rippled through the gallery.
"On Count Two, domestic torture under Penal Code Section 206—we find the defendant, Guilty."
"On Count Three, conspiracy to commit grand larceny—we find the defendant, Guilty."
"On Count Four, filing a false police report and witness intimidation—we find the defendant, Guilty."
Ethan’s knees gave out completely, and he slumped into his chair, his head hitting the wooden table with a soft thud as his public defender placed a hand on his back.
Judge Harrison set the papers down and looked over her glasses directly at Ethan.
"Ethan Vance," Judge Harrison said, her voice cutting through the quiet courtroom like a razor. "In my twenty-four years on the bench, I have rarely witnessed a display of domestic cruelty as callous, calculated, and devoid of human empathy as the one you demonstrated against your wife. You used your legal knowledge not to protect the innocent, but to construct a psychological and financial prison for a woman who gave you her trust."
She picked up her heavy wooden gavel.
"For the charge of felony domestic torture, I sentence you to life in state prison with the possibility of parole after twenty-two years. For the charges of conspiracy and financial fraud, I add an additional eight years, to be served consecutively at the California State Prison in Corcoran."
CRACK.
The heavy sound of the gavel striking the wooden block signaled the absolute, permanent end of Ethan Vance’s freedom.
May you like
As the deputies dragged Ethan toward the side door leading to the holding cells, he looked back at me one final time through his tears. His eyes were wide, filled with desperate, silent horror as he realized he would spend the next three decades of his life in a maximum-security prison cell.
I didn't smile. I didn't cheer. I simply stood up, adjusted my white blazer over my shoulder, turned my back on him, and walked out of the courtroom into the bright afternoon sun.
