Chapter 8 - The Media StormWithin forty-horrs, the Hutchinson family name—once synonymous with suburban philanthropy, legal prestige, and political ambition—became the most toxic brand in the country.
The livestream Chloe had inadvertently started had been viewed over ten million times before cyber-crime units managed to archive and regulate the footage. Cable news networks ran non-stop coverage with sensational banners scrolling across the screen: #OakridgeMonster, The House of Secrets, and Suburban Nightmare: How a Prosecutor's Family Hid Decades of Murder.
Outside the county courthouse, reporters swarmed like locusts, shoving microphones and cameras into the faces of anyone associated with the case.
Rebecca stood on the steps of the courthouse, wearing a sharp charcoal-gray suit, her expression carved out of absolute granite. She had officially recused herself from any defense work related to the case, stepping entirely into the role of state witness and cooperating counsel alongside Detective Jenkins.
"Ms. Hutchinson! Ms. Hutchinson! Is it true your mother orchestrated the 1978 homicide?" a reporter shouted, thrusting a boom mic toward her face.
"All official statements will be released through the District Attorney's office," Rebecca answered, her voice steady and echoing clearly over the roar of the crowd. "My family built their lives on fear, silence, and intimidation. Those days are over. No name is too big, and no past is too buried to escape justice."
She pushed past the wall of reporters and stepped into the cool, quiet security of the courthouse lobby.
Inside interview room three, Gerald and Patricia Hutchinson sat at opposite ends of a steel table. They hadn't spoken a single word to each other since their arrest. The grand, unified front they had maintained for decades had shattered into mutual resentment and blame. Gerald glared at the wall, looking ten years older, his expensive suit rumpled and stained. Patricia sat with her hands folded in her lap, staring blankly at her wedding ring as if trying to remember whose finger it had originally belonged to.
Travis, out on a heavily conditional pre-trial release due to his full cooperation and immediate confession, was currently in protective custody miles away, preparing to testify against both of them in exchange for a reduced sentence on the accessory charges.
Rebecca watched them through the one-way mirror of the observation room, standing beside Detective Jenkins.
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"You did the right thing, Becca," Sarah said softly, resting a hand on her friend's shoulder. "It takes unimaginable strength to tear down your own house."
"I didn't tear it down, Sarah," Rebecca replied quietly, watching her parents through the glass. "They built it out of glass and rotten wood. It was bound to collapse the moment someone finally decided to look inside."
