Chapter 17 - The Plea Bargain
In early April, three weeks before their scheduled felony jury trial, the criminal defense counsel for Miriam Montgomery and Brenda Vance approached the Deschutes County District Attorney’s Office with an unconditional surrender and request for a plea agreement.
The defense attorneys knew that taking the case before a Deschutes County jury—where prosecutors intended to project the 4K infrared footage of a sixty-eight-year-old woman dragging a barefoot deaf child through the mud into an unheated shed—would result in a swift, devastating conviction and maximum statutory prison sentences from an outraged community.
A formal plea and sentencing conference was convened in the chambers of Chief Criminal Judge Harrison. I attended the proceeding accompanied by Marcus Thorne and ADA Evelyn Thorne.
Miriam and Brenda were brought into the judge's chambers in their orange jail jumpsuits and shackles, seated at the far end of the conference table. The five months in county lockup had completely shattered their high-society arrogance; Miriam sat hunched in her chair, her silver hair unkempt, staring at the floor in trembling silence, while Brenda wept quietly into a paper tissue, refusing to look in my direction.
ADA Evelyn Thorne opened her legal binder, presenting the finalized, non-negotiable plea agreement to the defense counsel without a shred of prosecutorial leniency.
“Here is the State’s final disposition, gentlemen,” ADA Thorne stated coldly. “Defendant Miriam Montgomery will plead guilty to one felony count of Criminal Mistreatment in the First Degree and one count of Felony Child Endangerment. In exchange for her guilty plea and waiver of appellate rights, the State recommends a binding sentence of thirty-six months—three years—of direct physical incarceration within the Oregon Department of Corrections, to be followed by five years of supervised parole.”
ADA Thorne turned her gaze to Brenda.
“Defendant Brenda Vance will plead guilty to one felony count of Child Endangerment by Omission and Accessory to Criminal Mistreatment,” Thorne continued. “The State recommends a sentence of eighteen months in the county correctional facility, with six months to be served in direct physical confinement, and the remaining twelve months suspended for a period of four years of formal, supervised felony probation.”
Thorne tapped the punitive conditions attached to both agreements.
“Furthermore, both defendants are subject to a permanent, lifetime statutory No-Contact Order regarding Arthur Vance and Leo Vance,” Thorne announced. “You are barred from ever residing within Deschutes County, you are permanently prohibited from employment or volunteer work involving minors or disabled individuals, and you are ordered to pay fifteen thousand dollars in mandatory criminal fines and victim restitution. Sign the agreements today, or we select a jury on Monday morning where I will request the seven-year statutory maximum for both of you.”
Miriam’s defense attorney looked at the old woman, nodding grimly. “It’s the best offer we will get, Miriam. If we go to trial with that video, you will die in prison.”
With shaking, age-spotted hands, Miriam Montgomery picked up the ballpoint pen and signed her name to the felony plea agreement, officially branding herself a convicted child abuser and committing herself to three years in a state prison cell.
Brenda followed seconds later, her hand trembling so violently she could barely form her signature through her tears.
Judge Harrison reviewed the signed agreements, looked down from his bench with severe judicial solemnity, and signed the sentencing orders with a heavy stroke of his pen.
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“The pleas are accepted and the sentences are imposed as recommended,” Judge Harrison ruled, striking his gavel onto his desk block. “You women abused a sacred trust and inflicted sadistic cruelty upon a vulnerable child who could not cry out for help. You deserve every single day of the confinement awaiting you. Bailiffs, remove the prisoners to the state transport facility immediately!”
As the armed bailiffs hauled my former wife and mother-in-law out of the judge's chambers in their chains, they shuffled out the door without uttering a single word, completely broken, stripped of their names, their wealth, and their freedom. I sat at the table with Marcus Thorne, closing my briefcase with a quiet, satisfying snap. The legal war was over; justice had been executed to the absolute limit of the law.
