Chapter 7 - THE TRIBUNAL AND THE RECKONINGTwo weeks later, the Silver City Federal Courthouse was packed to capacity. Media outlets from across the nation were lined up outside, broadcast trucks crowding the streets. The headline was trending nationwide: "GARDENER WAR HERO EXPOSES MULTI-MILLION DOLLAR FRAUD AND COVER-UP."
Inside the courtroom, Tristan Vance-Cross and his father, Richard, sat at the defense table in orange prison jumpsuits and heavy wrist chains.
Tristan looked hollowed out. His arrogant posture was gone; his hair was shaved, his face pale, his eyes sunken. Beside him, his mother Mara sat in the gallery, wearing a plain cotton dress bought from a discount store, her designer lifestyle completely erased as all her family assets had been seized by the state.
The judge slammed the gavel down.
"In the matter of the United States v. Richard Cross and Tristan Vance-Cross," the judge announced, his voice reverberating through the marble courtroom. "The court has reviewed the overwhelming evidence provided by the Department of Justice, the FBI, and Military Intelligence."
The judge looked over his glasses at Tristan.
"Tristan Vance-Cross, for the counts of federal bank fraud, wire fraud, identity theft, and conspiracy, you are hereby sentenced to twenty-two years in federal penitentiary without the possibility of parole."
Tristan sobbed loudly, his head hitting the wooden table. "No! Please! I was just following my father’s orders!"
"Silence!" the judge barked, turning his gaze to Richard Cross. "Richard Cross... for the charges of corporate embezzlement, federal contract fraud, environmental terrorism, and the involuntary manslaughter of Sarah Evans... you are sentenced to life imprisonment without parole, to be served at Maximum Security Facility ADX."
Richard slumped back in his seat, completely numb.
The judge then turned his eyes toward the gallery where my father and I were sitting in the front row, flanked by Commander Vance.
"Mr. James Evans," the judge said, his tone softening into deep reverence. "This court, on behalf of the nation, offers its deepest apologies for the injustice you endured. The property illegally targeted by the defendants has been restored to your full, unencumbered ownership, along with a federal restitution payout of $12.5 million seized from the defendants' illegal assets."
The courtroom erupted into applause. Reporters scribbled frantically in their notebooks.
Tristan turned his head back toward us as he was being led away by guards. He caught my eye. He opened his mouth, trying to say my name, but I simply looked right through him, as if he were made of glass.
He was nothing to me now. Just a ghost heading to a cell.
When we walked out of the courtroom steps, dozens of reporters shoved microphones in my father's face.
"Command Master Sergeant Evans! What are you going to do now that you’re a millionaire and a national hero?" one news anchor shouted.
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My father looked at the cameras, then at me, and finally pulled his worn, faded green cap out of his pocket and put it on.
"I’m going to go home," my father said calmly. "And I’m going to take care of my garden."
