Chapter 8 - THE TRIAL OF BEATRIZ REYES
The criminal trial was a media circus. Despite my NDA keeping my face off the television screens, the details of the Reyes family's corruption were broadcasted across the state. The prosecution painted a masterful picture of a ruthless matriarch who used her family's prestige to rob charities and investors blind.
I was subpoenaed as a key witness to authenticate the digital logs and testify about the forged authorizations. When I walked into the courtroom, Beatriz was sitting at the defense table. She looked thirty years older. The styled hair was flat and graying at the roots; the designer makeup was gone, revealing the harsh, bitter lines of a woman consumed by her own vanity and greed.
When I took the stand, her eyes locked onto mine. She tried to glare, tried to summon that old intimidating aura, but it failed completely. I answered the prosecutor's questions clearly, methodically explaining the accounting procedures she had hijacked. I explained how she used my login credentials.
Then, the prosecutor brought up the hospital incident. It was admitted to show her state of mind and her coercive, abusive control over the family dynamic to maintain the fraud.
"Mrs. Reyes slapped you in the hospital to silence you, correct?" the prosecutor asked.
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"She slapped me because she believed I was weak, and she needed to maintain absolute control over my environment so I wouldn't look into the company's finances," I answered clearly.
The jury was horrified. Beatriz's defense attorney didn't even bother with a heavy cross-examination; they knew they were beaten.
