Chapter 8 - The SentencingThe jury took less than two hours to deliberate.
On a crisp October afternoon, the foreperson stood in a silent, packed courtroom and read the verdicts. Guilty on all counts. Aggravated assault, attempted feticide, conspiracy to commit murder, wire fraud, grand larceny, and tax evasion.
Judge Evelyn Thorne did not show a shred of mercy during the sentencing phase.
"The conduct of the defendants in this case represents the lowest depths of human depravity," Judge Thorne stated, her voice echoing off the high mahogany walls. "To use physical violence against an expectant mother, to attempt to erase an innocent life for financial gain, and to use wealth to attempt to corrupt the justice system—it is an affront to this court."
She looked at Charles Sterling first. "Charles Sterling, for your role in the financial fraud and the conspiracy to commit capital murder, I sentence you to forty-five years in federal prison without the possibility of parole."
Charles collapsed back into his chair, a silent gasp escaping his lips as his wife, Lenora, began to weep hysterically.
"Lenora Sterling, for your role as an accessory after the fact and your attempt to flee federal jurisdiction, I sentence you to fifteen years."
Finally, Judge Thorne turned her gaze onto Adrian. He was trembling violently, his hands shaking so hard his chains rattled against the table. The smug, arrogant boy who had punched me beneath a silver balloon arch was entirely gone.
"Adrian Sterling," Judge Thorne said, her eyes burning into his. "You have shown zero remorse throughout these proceedings. You viewed your wife as property and your unborn child as an inconvenience to your greed. For the charge of attempted feticide and aggravated assault, combined with your financial crimes, I sentence you to life in prison, with the first twenty years to be served in maximum security."
Adrian let out a choked, desperate sob, pulling at his chains as the bailiffs stepped forward to drag him away. "Mom! Dad! Do something! Please!"
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But his parents couldn't save him. They were being led out through a different door, their hands bound, their legacy reduced to a stack of federal inmate numbers.
As Adrian passed by my table, he looked at me one last time, his eyes wide with a pathetic, begging terror. I didn't say a word. I simply adjusted the gold watch on my wrist—my mother's watch—and watched him vanish into the dark corridor of the cell block.
