Chapter 7 - The Gavel Falls
The trial was a media circus, but it was swift. When the FBI gets involved and the evidence is airtight, even the most expensive lawyers in the country can't save you.
The video Sarah had provided of Richard handing over bribe money led to a massive federal sweep. The local police chief, the corrupt judge, and the district attorney were all indicted. Richard Vance’s political and real estate empire burned to the ground overnight. He was sentenced to twenty years in federal prison for racketeering, bribery, and conspiracy.
Wade’s trial was even shorter. The jury only needed to see the photos Ava took, watch the video of Sarah's son, and hear the tearful testimony of the doctors who treated Tommy. Wade cried on the stand, blaming his own father for a toxic upbringing, but nobody felt an ounce of pity.
The judge—a federal judge brought in from out of state—stared Wade down with absolute disgust.
"Wade Vance," the judge intoned, her voice echoing in the packed courtroom. "You are a predator who hid behind the veneer of wealth and respectability. You preyed on vulnerable women and tortured innocent children. Society is entirely unsafe with you in it. I sentence you to forty-five years in a maximum-security penitentiary, without the possibility of parole."
Cheers erupted in the courtroom. Sarah, sitting a few rows behind me, buried her face in her hands and wept tears of absolute relief.
Diane was in the courtroom, too. She sat in the very back row, looking gaunt and hollow. She had avoided jail time by cooperating fully with the prosecution, but the social ruin and the guilt had broken her. The court had stripped her of all parental rights, granting me permanent, 100% sole custody of Ava and Tommy.
As we walked out of the courthouse into the bright sunlight, Diane timidly approached us.
"John," she whispered, not daring to look at the kids. "Can I... can I just say I'm sorry?"
I stopped. I looked at the woman I used to love, the mother of my children. I didn't feel anger anymore. I just felt profound pity.
"You aren't apologizing to me, Diane," I said quietly.
She looked at Ava. Ava, who had grown an inch in the last few months, stood tall and unyielding.
"I forgive you, Mom," Ava said, her voice mature beyond her years. "But I don't want to see you again. You were supposed to protect us, and you didn't. Dad did."
May you like
Diane let out a broken sob, nodding in understanding. She turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd. That was the last time we ever saw her.
I put one hand on Ava's shoulder and took Tommy's hand with the other. "Come on," I smiled. "Let's go home."
