Chapter 13 - Behind Iron Bars: Juliette’s Final Desperate Plea in the Holding Cell
The jury deliberated for less than ninety minutes.
When the foreperson stood up to read the verdict, the courtroom was so quiet that the ticking of the wall clock sounded like a metronome of doom.
"On the first count of Attempted Murder in the First Degree: GUILTY."
"On the second count of Arson Resulting in Severe Bodily Injury: GUILTY."
"On the third count of Grand Larceny: GUILTY."
"On all remaining counts of Corporate Fraud and Racketeering: GUILTY."
The judge, a formidable woman known for her zero-tolerance stance on corporate corruption, delivered the sentence without a shred of hesitation:
"Juliette Mercer, your actions demonstrate a depravity of mind and a cruelty of spirit that defies comprehension. You attempted to incinerate your own flesh and blood for the sake of material greed, and you used the wealth of your family to corrupt public servants and bury the truth. You are hereby sentenced to forty-five years to life at the Bedford Hills Maximum Security Correctional Facility, without the possibility of parole for the first thirty-five years."
Forty-five years.
It was, for all practical purposes, a life sentence.
Before she was transported to the upstate maximum-security facility, Juliette requested a private meeting with me in the courthouse basement holding cell.
Marcus Vance advised against it. "You don't owe her anything, Caroline. Let her rot."
"I know," I replied. "But I need to close the door myself."
I walked into the small, concrete visitation room. Juliette sat behind a thick partition of reinforced glass, her wrists chained to her waist, wearing the drab green uniform of a convicted felon. Her hair was unwashed, her skin sallow, and the arrogance that had defined her entire life had withered away into a bitter, hollow husk.
She lifted the black plastic phone receiver. I lifted mine.
"You came," Juliette whispered, her voice rough and cracked.
"I did," I said.
"Are you happy now, Caroline?" she asked, a faint, bitter sneer curling her lip. "You destroyed the family. You destroyed our father. You put me in a cage. Are you satisfied?"
"You destroyed the family the night you poured gasoline in the cellar, Juliette," I replied evenly. "I didn't put you in this cage. Your own choices brought you here."
Juliette leaned closer to the glass, her eyes wide, desperate tears welling up. "Caroline... please. Talk to the governor. Ask for a commutation. We’re sisters! We share the same blood! Mother wouldn't want me to die in a prison cell!"
I looked at the woman behind the glass. I searched my heart for hatred, for rage, for the burning desire for vengeance that had kept me alive in the burn ward for five years.
There was nothing left. Only a profound, liberating peace.
"Mother left you ten percent, Juliette," I said softly. "She gave you enough to live a beautiful, honorable life. You wanted everything, and now you have nothing."
"Caroline! Please! Don't leave me here!" she screamed, slamming her cuffed hands against the glass partition.
I slowly hung up the receiver.
May you like
I turned around and walked out of the holding area, the heavy steel security doors buzzing open and slamming shut behind me with a final, echoing clatter.
I didn't look back once.
