Chapter 7 - THE PRE-TRIAL HEARING
The County Courthouse was packed to capacity on the morning of the pre-trial hearing.
Photographers lined the steps outside, their flashes blinding as I arrived in a black town car, wearing an icy white tailored suit, accompanied by Arthur and my security detail. I looked polished, powerful, and utterly unfazed.
Inside Courtroom 4B, the air was tense.
Christopher sat at the defense table in a navy blue suit that looked two sizes too big for him. He had lost weight in jail, his cheeks sunken, his eyes wide and panicked. Beside him sat Julian Vance-Ross, shuffling papers with practiced arrogance.
In the second row of the gallery sat Beatrice and Veronica.
Beatrice looked ruined. She was wearing an old coat, her hair styled poorly, her former aristocratic grace entirely gone. Veronica sat beside her, staring at her phone, looking terrified.
Judge Sarah Higgins took the bench.
"We are here for state vs. Christopher Vance, Case number 4092," Judge Higgins announced, her voice booming through the courtroom. "We have several pre-trial motions from the defense regarding evidence admissibility and bail modification."
Julian stood up immediately. "Your Honor, we move to suppress the video recording captured on Mrs. Vance's laptop. It was recorded without my client’s explicit consent, violating wiretap laws—"
"Denied," Judge Higgins cut in before Julian could even finish his sentence. "Mrs. Vance was on a active, scheduled business meeting with twelve third-party witnesses. Your client knew the meeting was taking place and entered the room voluntarily. The recording is fully admissible."
Julian flushed red. "Your Honor, we also move for immediate bail release. Mr. Vance has spent three weeks in remand. He is a pillar of the community—"
"A pillar of the community who was caught on camera throwing boiling liquid at his wife's face," the prosecutor, Assistant District Attorney Vance-Lopez, interjected sharply. "Furthermore, financial records seized by federal investigators show Mr. Vance attempted to transfer forty thousand dollars to a Swiss bank account thirty minutes before the assault. He is the definition of a flight risk."
Judge Higgins looked over her glasses at Christopher, who looked like he was about to vomit.
"Bail remains denied," Judge Higgins ruled coldly. "Now, onto the civil motions attached to this docket."
Arthur stood up smoothly. "Your Honor, we present a signed confession and asset surrender executed by the defendant’s mother, Beatrice Vance, regarding Ninety-Six Thousand Dollars in stolen trust capital."
Beatrice gasped loudly from the gallery. "What?! I never signed anything!"
Julian turned around, glaring at Beatrice. "Quiet!"
"Mrs. Vance," Arthur addressed the judge, "handed over complete financial records yesterday evening in exchange for the dismissal of personal grand larceny charges. She acknowledged that she knew the funds were embezzled from Savannah Thorne’s private accounts."
Christopher whipped his head around toward his mother, his face twisted in utter disbelief. "Mother?! You signed a confession?!"
"They were going to put me in prison, Christopher!" Beatrice wailed from the gallery, breaking down into hysterical tears. "I had to protect myself! You told me Savannah wouldn't find out!"
"Order in the court!" Judge Higgins slammed her gavel repeatedly. "Silence in the gallery or I will have officers clear the room!"
The courtroom erupted into chaos. Journalists scribbled furiously on their pads. Christopher began screaming at his mother across the bar rail, while Julian tried desperately to push his client back into his chair.
I sat at the prosecution table, perfectly still, watching the Vance family tear each other apart in front of fifty witnesses.
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They didn't need me to destroy them.
They were doing it all by themselves.
