Chapter 10 - Beatrice's Fall from Grace
While Arthur was being stripped of his livelihood in Interrogation Room B, his mother was experiencing a different, far more agonizing kind of destruction four doors down in Interrogation Room F.
Beatrice Vance-Sterling had refused to eat the breakfast tray provided by the federal marshals, claiming the food was “sub-human sludge” that violated her dietary requirements. She sat with her arms crossed over her cashmere sweater, her designer hair spray holding her coiffure in rigid place despite the fourteen hours of detention.
When the heavy steel door opened, she didn't look at the entering FBI agents. She glared at the wall and barked, “I demand a telephone call to the president of the Heritage Country Club. My lawyer, Harrison Frost, should have been here hours ago. This entire department is going to be facing a multi-million-dollar civil rights lawsuit by Monday morning!”
Special Agent Miller—the same tactical paramedic who had helped evacuate Elena from the kitchen—walked into the room, carrying a digital tablet and a thick manila folder. He pulled out a metal chair and sat down opposite Beatrice, placing the tablet on the table.
“Harrison Frost is not coming, Mrs. Sterling,” Miller said calmly. “We contacted his office at eight o'clock this morning to inform him of your detention. He stated that his firm has a strict policy against representing clients charged with violent federal felonies against law enforcement families. He formally declined to represent you.”
Beatrice’s haughty expression faltered for a fraction of a second, her blinking speeding up. “That’s absurd. I’ve paid Harrison retainer fees for fifteen years! I’ll hire someone else! I have money! My family has owned property in Maryland since the nineteenth century!”
“Your money isn't going to help you here, ma'am,” Miller said, tapping the screen of the tablet and turning it toward her. “Take a look at this.”
On the screen was a live broadcast from a local Baltimore news station. The headline running across the bottom of the screen in bold red letters read: MOTHER AND SON OF ELITE LAW FIRM ARRESTED IN BRUTAL ASSAULT ON PREGNANT DAUGHTER OF U.S. ATTORNEY GENERAL.
The video showed Beatrice being led out of her manicured suburban driveway in handcuffs by federal marshals, her face illuminated by the flashing blue lights of eight emergency vehicles while her wealthy neighbors stood on their lawns, filming the spectacle with their smartphones.
“Your country club board held an emergency session at noon today,” Agent Miller continued, his tone devoid of any sympathy. “They voted unanimously to revoke your membership and ban you from the premises for life, citing conduct unbecoming of the organization. Your charitable foundation has already removed your name from their website.”
Beatrice stared at the screen, watching her pristine, carefully curated social standing evaporate before her eyes. Her hands began to tremble against the table, the heavy steel handcuffs clinking softly.
May you like
“She... she was just a nobody,” Beatrice whispered, her voice cracking as the reality of her situation finally breached her arrogance. “She didn't have a family. She cooked our meals. Why didn't she tell us who her father was?”
“Because she wanted to see if you were decent human beings without being threatened by her father's badge,” Miller replied coldly, closing the folder. “You failed the test, Mrs. Sterling. Now you get to face the consequences.”
