Chapter 8 - The Media Storm
The story broke on a Tuesday morning.
Someone at the courthouse had leaked the details to a major news outlet.
By noon, it was the number one trending topic in the country.
The headline was plastered across every television screen and newspaper front page.
“Prominent Attorney and Mother Arrested After Brutal Assault on Pregnant Wife of Supreme Court Chief Justice’s Daughter.”
My father’s security team had completely locked down his estate.
Helicopters circled the perimeter, and news vans were parked a mile down the road, held back by state troopers.
I sat in the sunroom, sipping decaf tea, watching the circus unfold on the large flat-screen TV.
They were showing footage of David’s law firm.
Federal agents were carrying dozens of cardboard boxes out of the glass-fronted building.
The news anchor looked grave as she read the breaking updates.
"We are receiving reports that Charles Harrison, managing partner of Harrison, Linus, and Vance, has released a public statement."
The screen cut to a hastily arranged press conference.
Charles stood behind a podium, sweating profusely under the camera lights.
"We are deeply appalled by the horrific allegations against our former employee, David Montgomery," Charles read from a prepared statement, looking like a man facing a firing squad.
"Our firm has absolutely zero tolerance for domestic violence."
"Furthermore, we are fully cooperating with the FBI regarding Mr. Montgomery's independent, unauthorized financial crimes."
"He acted alone, and we condemn his actions in the strongest possible terms."
I took a slow sip of my tea.
David’s entire professional world was publicly washing their hands of him.
He was a pariah.
No law firm would ever touch him again.
No country club would accept his membership.
He was a disgraced, broke criminal.
My father walked into the sunroom, loosening his silk tie.
He looked tired, but there was a fierce, protective gleam in his eyes.
"The media is having a field day," my father noted, sitting in the armchair opposite me.
"Are you holding up okay, sweetheart?"
I smiled warmly at him.
"I'm fine, Dad," I promised.
"Honestly, it feels like watching a movie about someone else's life."
"The prosecutor called," my father said, leaning forward and clasping his hands together.
"David’s public defender is begging for a meeting."
"They've seen the new evidence you found in his desk."
"The wire fraud charges alone carry a mandatory minimum of twenty years."
I set my teacup down.
"He wants to cut a deal," I guessed.
My father nodded slowly.
"He wants to avoid a public trial," my father explained.
"He knows a jury will crucify him if they see pictures of the kitchen floor and hear the 911 tape."
"The prosecutor wants to know what you want to do."
I looked out the window, watching the winter wind whip through the barren oak trees on the estate.
I thought about the pain.
I thought about the fear when Sylvia pushed me.
I thought about David smashing my phone, prioritizing his promotion over my child's life.
"No deals," I said softly, but firmly.
"I want him to stand in open court."
"I want him to plead guilty to every single charge on the record."
"I want him to say exactly what he did out loud, where everyone can hear him."
May you like
My father smiled proudly.
"Consider it done," he said.
