Chapter 5 - The Grand Jury
The federal courthouse in downtown was surrounded by a swarm of media vans, microphones, and flashing cameras. News anchors breathlessly reported on the sudden, catastrophic downfall of the Vance family—an empire that had dominated the city's commercial sector for three generations, dismantled overnight by an invisible hand.
Inside Courtroom 3B, the atmosphere was suffocatingly tense.
Derek Vance sat at the defendant's table, his expensive suit replaced by an orange inmate jumpsuit, his wrists locked in heavy shackles. The arrogant smirk that had defined him was entirely gone, replaced by a hollow, hunted look of pure terror. Beside him sat a public defender appointed that morning, looking completely overwhelmed by the mountain of federal indictments stacked before them.
In the gallery, sitting in the front row reserved for victims and plaintiffs, sat Bertha Vance. She looked ten years older, her makeup smudged, her silk robe replaced by a simple black coat. When she saw me walk through the oak double doors accompanied by three corporate lawyers and two security guards, her eyes flared with pure, unadulterated hatred.
She stood up, ignoring the judge’s gavel, and pointed a trembling finger at me.
“Monster!” Bertha screamed across the courtroom. “You ruined us! You destroyed a respected family over a domestic squabble! You’re a fraud, Jonathan Sterling! A deceitful, manipulative old fraud!”
“Order! Order in the court!” Judge Katherine Vance—no relation, but a woman with zero tolerance for courtroom outbursts—slammed her gavel down with a deafening crack. “Mrs. Vance, one more outburst and I will hold you in direct contempt of court and have you removed in irons. Sit down!”
Bertha sank back into her wooden bench, her chest heaving, shooting me a glare that could have melted steel.
I didn't even look back at her. I took my seat beside Marcus, opening a sleek leather folio.
The District Attorney stepped forward, addressing the bench. “Your Honor, the State presents Exhibit A through G: financial records proving systematic embezzlement, fraudulent asset concealment, and corporate racketeering by Derek Vance. Furthermore, we present medical documentation, toxicological reports confirming forced chemical sedation, and sworn eyewitness testimony detailing habitual domestic abuse.”
Derek’s public defender stood up nervously. “Your Honor, my client requests bail. The charges, while severe, are inflated by the complainant's family influence—”
“Denied,” Judge Vance interrupted flatly before the lawyer could even finish his sentence. “The defendant represents a severe flight risk, has demonstrated violent tendencies toward incapacitated victims, and possesses the means to obstruct justice. Furthermore, given the severity of the federal charges and the ongoing grand jury investigation into racketeering, Mr. Vance will be held without bail pending trial.”
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Derek buried his face in his shackled hands, letting out a stifled sob.
Bertha stared in horror as her son was led away through the side doors, his legal career, his wealth, and his freedom vanished into thin air in less than twenty-four hours.
