Chapter 10 - THE ARRESTS
Sylvia was arrested that night.
Deputies arrived at her house while news cameras waited outside.
She opened the door wearing pearls and a dark wool coat.
For several seconds, she refused to move.
“You cannot arrest me on Christmas week.”
The deputy read the warrant.
She looked toward the cameras.
“This is political revenge.”
Then she saw Agent Mendoza.
The confidence left her face.
“You have no jurisdiction here.”
“I have a federal conspiracy warrant.”
Sylvia’s hands were placed behind her back.
She continued shouting until the patrol car door closed.
David was arrested at the Virginia cabin.
He was charged with obstruction, unlawful surveillance, witness intimidation, and conspiracy to commit fraud.
The assault case remained with the state.
The Jefferson Circle investigation remained federal.
David appeared in court wearing a gray suit.
He looked directly at the cameras.
He smiled.
That smile told me he still believed he could survive.
His attorneys requested bail.
They argued that he was a respected lawyer with community ties.
Agent Mendoza presented evidence that he had fled.
The judge ordered him detained.
As officers led him away, David turned toward the gallery.
I had attended through a video connection.
He knew I was watching.
His lips formed three words.
You need me.
I turned off the screen.
Grace remained unstable.
Her lungs were developing slowly.
Her doctors warned that infection could become dangerous.
I spent every hour beside her incubator.
My father slept in a chair outside the NICU.
The most powerful judge in the country ate vending machine crackers and wore the same sweater for three days.
One night, I asked him why he had stayed away from my wedding.
He looked toward the glass.
“Because you asked me to.”
“I asked you after David said you would ruin it.”
“I knew he was isolating you.”
“Why didn’t you stop me?”
“You were an adult.”
“And you were afraid that using my power as your father would prove his accusations.”
I looked down.
“He told me you cared more about appearances than me.”
My father’s voice broke.
“I thought respecting your choice was love.”
“Maybe it was cowardice.”
I reached for his hand.
“We both made mistakes.”
He nodded.
“But only one person used those mistakes as weapons.”
The following morning, Grace stopped breathing.
Alarms filled the NICU.
Nurses rushed toward her incubator.
A doctor pushed me away as the team began working.
I stood behind the glass with my father.
Thirty seconds passed.
Then sixty.
Then ninety.
I pressed both hands against the window.
“Please.”
May you like
The doctor lifted Grace’s tiny body.
And the monitor remained silent.
