Chapter 17 - Reckoning at Dawn
The morning of the federal trial arrived with a bitter, freezing December frost blanketing Manhattan. By 8:30 AM, the media circus outside the Daniel Patrick Moynihan United States Courthouse rivaled presidential elections.
I sat in the backseat of our bulletproof town car alongside Daniel, watching the flashing news broadcasts on the cabin's built-in entertainment screen. Legal analysts were unanimously agreeing that Richard Bennett’s defense was completely indefensible.
“The jury selection will take less than two hours,” Daniel noted, reviewing a tablet file prepared by our legal team. “With the Cayman ledgers and the audio recordings of your father discussing the payoff, there’s no legal maneuvering left.”
“He thought his money made him invincible,” I murmured, staring out the window at the gray skyline. “He never imagined that the daughter he spent thirty years ignoring would be the one to sign his final judgment.”
The car glided smoothly into the subterranean security garage of the courthouse, bypassing the mob of reporters outside. Federal marshals escorted us directly into the secure witness holding suite upstairs.
Through the tinted observation glass of the courtroom gallery, I saw my father led in by armed guards. He had aged ten years in two months; his hair was stark white, his posture slumped, and his bespoke orange jumpsuit hung loosely over his shrinking frame.
He looked up toward the gallery once, his hollow eyes scanning the front row until they locked onto mine.
There was no anger left in his gaze anymore—only a cold, crushing realization of absolute defeat.
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“All rise for the Honorable Judge Katherine Sterling,” the bailiff announced.
We stood together as the judge entered the courtroom. The gavel came down, sharp and final, signaling the beginning of the end for the House of Bennett.
