Chapter 6 - The Arraignment
Monday morning arrived with a torrential downpour, washing the streets of the city clean.
Inside the municipal courthouse, the atmosphere was suffocating. Garrett sat at the defense table in a bright orange jumpsuit, his arm in a heavy cast. He looked haggard, his arrogant sneer replaced by a twitchy, desperate panic. He kept looking back at the gallery, searching for his mother, but Eleanor was nowhere to be seen. She was too busy fighting eviction notices at the mansion.
I sat in the front row of the gallery, flanked by Victor and two other security personnel. I wore a tailored black suit, my hair pulled back into a sleek chignon. I looked nothing like the woman Garrett had left on the floor.
The judge, a no-nonsense woman named Vance, banged her gavel.
"Case of the State versus Garrett Blackwood. Charges include aggravated domestic assault, reckless endangerment, and attempted feticide. We are here to determine bail."
Garrett’s public defender—because his personal lawyers had dropped him the second the Davenport legal team froze his assets—stood up.
"Your Honor, my client is a respected businessman with strong ties to the community. He has no prior criminal record. This was a highly emotional domestic dispute blown out of proportion. We request bail be set at a reasonable amount, and he is willing to surrender his passport."
The prosecutor, a shark of a lawyer hired indirectly by my grandfather, stood up. She didn't carry a notepad; she carried an iPad.
"Your Honor, 'blown out of proportion' is an interesting choice of words for a man who locked his wife in a house while she was in active labor, fled to an auction, and then attempted to physically beat her in a hospital room while her child's heart monitor flatlined."
Garrett jumped up. "She's lying! She provoked me! She stole my money!"
"Order!" Judge Vance barked, slamming her gavel.
"Your Honor," the prosecutor continued calmly. "We have submitted Exhibit A to your bench. It is the raw, unedited security footage from Suite 800 at Memorial Hospital."
Judge Vance tapped her screen. The courtroom held its breath as the audio from the video played through the speakers.
“How dare you charge this to my accounts!” Garrett’s voice roared through the room. Then, the terrifying sound of the flatlining monitor. Then, the sickening crack of Victor breaking Garrett’s arm just before it connected with my face.
The silence in the courtroom was absolute. The judge stared at the screen, her expression turning into a mask of pure disgust.
She looked up at Garrett, who was now trembling uncontrollably.
"Mr. Blackwood," Judge Vance said, her voice dripping with contempt. "You are a danger to society, to your wife, and to your newborn children. You are a flight risk, and given the financial fraud investigation newly opened against you by the FBI, you have no assets to leverage. Bail is denied. You will remain in county lockup until your trial."
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Garrett collapsed into his chair, burying his face in his good hand. As the bailiffs moved in to cuff him, he looked over his shoulder at me. He mouthed the word, Please.
I didn't smile. I didn't gloat. I simply broke eye contact, stood up, and walked out of the courtroom, leaving him to the darkness he had built for himself.
