Chapter 19 - The Verdict
Four months later, the federal courthouse in downtown Chicago was packed to absolute capacity.
The media circus that had followed the "Black Widow Family" trial had finally reached its conclusion. I sat in the front row of the gallery, dressed in a sharp navy blazer, my father on one side of me and Marcus on the other.
At the defense table sat Ethan, Diane, Jennifer, and Julian Sterling.
Ethan had lost thirty pounds. His once-immaculate hair was cropped short, his skin sallow and pitted under the harsh courtroom fluorescent lights. He wore a standard orange prison jumpsuit, his wrists and ankles shackled to the floor anchors.
Beside him, Diane sat slumped, staring blankly at the polished mahogany table, completely stripped of her designer wardrobe, her vanity, and her arrogance.
Chief Judge Miller adjusted his glasses and looked down from the bench.
"In the matter of the United States versus Ethan Vance, Diane Vance, Jennifer Hayes, and Julian Sterling, the jury has reached a unanimous verdict."
The foreperson, a stern-faced woman in her fifties, stood up.
"On count one: Conspiracy to commit murder under federal jurisdiction. How do you find the defendant, Ethan Vance?"
"Guilty."
A quiet gasp rippled through the gallery. Ethan buried his face in his cuffed hands, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
"On count two: Attempted murder with the use of a chemical weapon. Guilty. On counts three through eight: Federal wire fraud, interstate insurance fraud, and grand larceny. Guilty on all counts."
The foreperson continued down the line.
Diane Vance: Guilty on all counts of conspiracy, money laundering, and procurement of controlled poisons.
Jennifer Hayes: Guilty of attempted murder and distribution of toxic chemicals.
Julian Sterling: Guilty of racketeering, federal arson conspiracy resulting in death, and murder for hire.
Judge Miller didn't wait for a separate sentencing hearing. Under federal sentencing guidelines for violent crimes with premeditated malice, he delivered his judgment immediately.
"Ethan Vance," Judge Miller declared, his voice ringing with absolute moral authority. "Your actions demonstrate a depravity of character rarely seen in this court. You took vows to cherish your wife, and instead, you methodically administered poison while plotting to profit from her agonizing death. You are hereby sentenced to forty-five years at ADX Florence, without the possibility of parole."
Forty-five years. Ethan would be seventy-seven years old before he ever saw the sun without razor wire.
"Diane Vance," the judge continued. "For your active participation and funding of this murderous scheme: thirty years at FCI Danbury."
Diane let out a low, pathetic moan and fainted, her head hitting the defense table with a dull thud.
"Jennifer Hayes: twenty-two years. Julian Sterling: life imprisonment without parole."
The judge brought the heavy wooden gavel down with a resounding crack. "Court is adjourned."
Federal marshals immediately moved in, hauling Ethan to his feet.
As they dragged him toward the secure holding cells, Ethan twisted his neck, his tear-streaked face searching the gallery until his eyes found mine.
"Claire!" he screamed, his voice echoing off the high stone walls. "Claire, tell them! Tell them you forgive me! Please, Claire! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"
I didn't say a single word.
I looked into the eyes of the man who had laughed at my deathbed. I felt no anger. I felt no hatred.
I felt only peace.
May you like
I gave him a slow, polite nod—the kind of nod one gives a stranger on an elevator before the doors close forever—and watched as the steel door slammed shut behind him.
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