Chapter 12 – The Trial
The trial began fourteen months after the Napa dinner.
Because of the number of defendants, the court separated the cases.
Victoria was tried first for the murders of Robert and Christopher.
Her defense argued that Adrian was lying to reduce his own sentence.
Then prosecutors played Victoria’s confession to me.
Her attorneys claimed she had been provoking me.
The jury listened to her voice say:
I corrected the same mistake twice.
Maya testified for three days.
She described Christopher’s fear in the months before his death.
She described the threats after she questioned the accident.
She described the black flash drive.
Victoria watched her without expression.
When Maya stepped down from the witness stand, she did not look at Victoria.
She looked at Christopher’s photograph.
The jury convicted Victoria on every count.
She received two consecutive life sentences without the possibility of parole.
Richard’s trial lasted four months.
The prosecution presented decades of financial records and witness testimony.
Rachel Shaw sat in the front row each day.
So did families whose properties had been stolen.
Richard never testified.
His attorneys argued that corrupt employees had acted without his knowledge.
Then Senator Wren took the stand.
He described Richard ordering the fire at Rebecca Shaw’s house.
He described the payments.
He described the threats.
He described the cover-up of Robert’s disappearance and Christopher’s death.
Richard stared at him with open hatred.
During cross-examination, Richard’s attorney asked Wren why the jury should trust a disgraced politician seeking a reduced sentence.
Wren looked toward Rachel.
“They shouldn’t trust me,” he said. “They should trust the records I was too cowardly to destroy.”
Richard was convicted of racketeering, bribery, fraud, obstruction, and murder conspiracy.
He received life in federal prison plus one hundred and twenty years.
Senator Wren received twenty-eight years.
Daniel received twelve.
Several judges and executives received sentences ranging from five to thirty years.
Adrian’s case came last.
He pleaded guilty before trial.
His cooperation spared him from a possible life sentence, but the judge rejected his request for leniency.
At sentencing, Adrian turned toward me.
“Valerie, I’m sorry.”
The courtroom waited.
I had spent months wondering what I would say when given the opportunity.
I approached the lectern.
“You are sorry that the plan failed,” I said. “You are sorry that the evidence survived. You are sorry that your family could no longer protect you.”
Adrian lowered his eyes.
“You told investigators that you loved me. But love does not forge signatures. Love does not build a case for declaring someone incompetent. Love does not stand beside a person’s suffering and calculate what can be gained from it.”
I looked directly at him.
“You did not lose a wife. You lost access to a woman you never believed had the right to belong to herself.”
The judge sentenced Adrian to twenty-two years in federal prison and an additional state sentence for the assault.
As deputies led him away, he turned once.
I felt nothing.
Not hatred.
Not satisfaction.
Nothing.
The absence of emotion frightened me for a moment.
Then I understood.
May you like
It was not emptiness.
It was freedom.
