Chapter 17 - THE VERDICT AGAINST THE GOLDEN CHILD
The jury deliberated for twenty-six hours.
Sophie and I waited at the lake house.
We did not watch television.
We baked cupcakes.
Sophie used too much blue frosting.
I did not correct her.
Detective Bennett called at 3:18 p.m.
Preston was guilty of aggravated battery of a child.
Guilty of evidence tampering.
Guilty of conspiracy.
Guilty of attempted financial exploitation of a minor.
Guilty of fraud.
And guilty of conspiracy in Thomas’s death.
Charles was convicted of conspiracy, obstruction, fraud, and accessory after the fact.
Lorraine was convicted of conspiracy, forgery, financial exploitation, and obstruction.
Eric’s plea reduced his sentence but did not spare him prison.
Judge Cole lost his office and was convicted of fraud and bribery.
Vanessa received probation and home confinement under her cooperation agreement.
At sentencing, Preston asked to address Sophie.
The judge refused direct contact.
He spoke toward the courtroom instead.
“I am sorry she was hurt.”
Not I hurt her.
She was hurt.
The passive language protected him from his own action.
The judge noticed.
“You continue to describe violence as something that happened near you.”
“It happened through you.”
Preston received thirty-eight years.
The murder-conspiracy conviction carried most of the sentence.
The assault ensured the public never saw the fraud as only a financial crime.
Charles received eighteen years.
Lorraine received fourteen.
Before deputies led her away, my mother looked at me.
“You will regret destroying the family.”
I answered:
“I regret how long I helped pretend it existed.”
She shook her head.
“You are cruel.”
“No.”
“I stopped volunteering Sophie for your forgiveness.”
My father said nothing.
He looked older.
Smaller.
Not innocent.
Not monstrous.
A man who repeatedly chose the easiest wrong thing until the consequences became enormous.
Outside the courthouse, reporters asked whether I forgave Preston.
“No.”
“Will you someday?”
“I do not organize Sophie’s healing around his comfort.”
Another asked whether the family name would remain on the hotel.
I looked toward Owen.
Employees stood behind the cameras.
Housekeepers.
Cooks.
Security officers.
Managers.
People whose jobs had been used as excuses for theft.
May you like
“The hotel will keep its history.”
“It will not keep family control.”
