Chapter 12 - The Trial Begins
The morning of the trial was incredibly tense, with news vans surrounding the federal courthouse.
I walked up the massive stone steps, flanked by the federal prosecution team and heavy security.
Camera flashes blinded me, and reporters shouted questions, but I kept my face entirely neutral.
I walked into the grand courtroom and took my seat directly behind the prosecution table.
My father was escorted into the room wearing an oversized orange prison jumpsuit.
He looked completely defeated, his hair thinning and his arrogant posture replaced by a noticeable slouch.
He slowly turned his head and locked his cold, dark eyes on me from across the room.
He tried to use that old, terrifying glare that used to make me shrink in fear as a child.
This time, I did not look away.
I stared right back at him with absolute, unwavering confidence, lifting my chin slightly.
He was the one who broke eye contact first, quickly looking down at the wooden defense table.
He finally understood that he had absolutely zero power over me anymore.
The judge slammed his heavy wooden gavel, bringing the chaotic courtroom to total silence.
The opening statements began, painting a vivid picture of a man consumed by endless greed.
The prosecutor detailed how Thomas Vance had stolen from charities, pensioners, and local small businesses.
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The jury listened in absolute horror, their faces twisting in genuine disgust as the crimes were listed.
My father's legacy was being surgically dissected in front of the entire world.
