Chapter 9 - The Verdict
The jury deliberated for less than ninety minutes—one of the fastest deliberations in the state’s federal history.
When the heavy wooden doors of the jury room opened, the silence inside Courtroom 4B was so complete you could hear the ticking of the wall clock.
Ethan stood beside his defender, his knees shaking so hard he had to grip the table to remain standing. His face was gray, his eyes wide with wild, frantic dread.
“Has the jury reached a verdict?” Judge Sterling asked.
The jury forewoman, a dignified woman in her fifties, stood up and held a slip of paper. “We have, Your Honor.”
She turned her eyes toward Ethan. There was no pity in her expression—only cold, unyielding judgment.
“On Count One: First-Degree Murder in the death of Emily Victoria Caldwell... we find the defendant, Ethan James Caldwell... Guilty.”
A sharp gasp echoed through the gallery. I closed my eyes, letting out a long, shuddering breath I felt like I had been holding for six years.
“On Count Two: Corporate Fraud and Embezzlement... Guilty.”
“On Count Three: Money Laundering under the RICO Act... Guilty.”
“On Count Four: Obstruction of Justice... Guilty.”
On every single charge, the verdict was the same. Guilty.
Judge Sterling took off his glasses, looking down at Ethan with unmitigated sternness.
“Ethan James Caldwell,” Judge Sterling announced, his voice echoing off the wood panels. “You have demonstrated a shocking, sociopathic disregard for human life, for the law, and for the sacred vows of marriage. You dismantled a young woman’s life piece by piece, believing that your money and your influence made you untouchable.”
Judge Sterling picked up his pen.
“It is the sentence of this court that you be transferred to the ADX Florence Supermax Facility in Colorado, where you will serve three consecutive life sentences without the possibility of parole, plus forty years for financial crimes.”
Ethan collapsed into his chair, burying his face in his hands, uttering a pathetic, broken wail.
“Court is adjourned,” Judge Sterling slammed his gavel down with a final, definitive CRACK.
U.S. Marshals immediately stepped forward, grabbing Ethan by his shoulders, pulling him to his feet, and slapping heavy leg irons around his ankles.
As they dragged him toward the side exit leading to the holding cells, Ethan looked back at me one last time. He looked small, broken, and completely destroyed.
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I stood up from my seat, holding my head high. I didn't smile. I didn't gloat. I simply raised my hand and adjusted the small gold lily pin on my lapel.
Emily had won.
