Chapter 7 - The Grand Jury Subpoena
While we mobilized for the marina interception, the legal noose was tightening around Blake Vance inside the federal courthouse.
Special Prosecutor Claire Montgomery entered Interrogation Room B, dropping four heavy blue-bound grand jury binders onto the metal table.
Blake sat handcuffed to the steel chair, his hair disheveled, his eyes bloodshot and swollen from hours of frantic panic.
“Mr. Vance, your co-conspirators in the corporate accounting division have already signed full sworn proffer agreements,” Prosecutor Montgomery announced.
“They provided the original server logs showing you altered the board resolutions and forged your late father-in-law’s testamentary signatures.”
Blake looked up, his voice cracking in desperate, pathetic supplication.
“Claire, please… I was pressured by Seraphina!” Blake sobbed, clutching the edge of the cold table.
“She told me Damien was abusive and that she needed the offshore capital to escape him!”
“She was the one who established the Cayman accounts! She was the one who coordinated with Moreau!”
Prosecutor Montgomery smiled coldly, opening the third binder to reveal the wiretapped text message transcripts between Blake and Moreau.
“These text logs prove you initiated the contact with Lucian Moreau fourteen months ago, Blake,” Montgomery stated mercilessly.
“You offered to deliver the AeroSpace Dynamics propulsion blueprints in exchange for thirty million dollars in untraceable bearer bonds.”
“And in this message dated three weeks ago, you explicitly instructed Seraphina to increase Damien’s thallium dosage so the surgical patents would clear probate before the merger.”
Blake’s breath hitched in his throat, his eyes widening in pure, animal terror as he realized his own words had sealed his fate for capital murder conspiracy.
“No… no, that was just talk! I never touched any poison!” Blake screamed, thrashing against his heavy chains.
“Under 18 U.S. Code Section 1117, conspiracy to commit murder carries a mandatory sentence of life imprisonment without the possibility of parole,” Montgomery informed him.
“Your bail hearing was cancelled ten minutes ago by Chief Judge Evelyn Cross.”
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“You are spending the rest of your natural life in federal maximum security, Blake.”
As the prosecutor closed her briefcase and walked out of the room, Blake collapsed forward onto the table, wailing into the cold steel as his world permanently vanished.
