Chapter 16 - The Courtroom
The federal trial of Mark Davis was the biggest media spectacle the city had seen in a decade.
Because of the federal RICO charges, the local domestic assault was absorbed into a massive, overarching indictment. Mark sat at the defense table, wearing an oversized, wrinkled suit. He looked twenty years older. The Petrov syndicate had put a bounty on his head in prison, forcing him into solitary confinement for his own protection. He was a ghost of his former self.
Sarah took the stand on the third day of the trial.
She walked up the center aisle with her head held high. The bruises had faded, but the scars remained. She swore the oath, sat down, and looked directly at Mark. He couldn't even meet her eyes.
"Mrs. Davis," the federal prosecutor began gently. "Can you describe the events of the night your sister arrested your husband?"
Sarah didn't cry. She didn't shake. She spoke with a clear, resonant voice that echoed through the silent courtroom. She detailed the abuse, the financial control, and the psychological torture. She took her power back with every single word.
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"He told me that if I ever told anyone, no one would believe me," Sarah told the jury, her eyes locking onto Mark’s. "He told me I was weak. But he was the weak one. He had to use his fists because he didn't have a soul."
The jury was spellbound. Mark’s new public defender didn't even attempt to cross-examine her. It would have been legal suicide.
