Chapter 5
The criminal charges came two weeks later.
The district attorney—who’d initially refused to even take the case, citing “insufficient evidence”—held a press conference.
He stood in front of a dozen cameras.
And announced that a grand jury had indicted Margaret, Ethan, and Brandon Prescott on multiple felony counts.
False imprisonment.
Assault causing grievous bodily harm.
Conspiracy.
Witness tampering.
Each of them faced up to twenty years in prison.
Emily watched the press conference on TV.
Her hand over her mouth.
Tears streaming down her face.
Happy tears.
Relieved tears.
When it was over, she turned to me.
And threw her arms around my neck.
Sobbing.
“They’re actually going to pay, Mom. They’re actually going to jail.”
I held her tight.
“Told you, baby. Justice might be slow. But it always comes.”
The arraignment was three days later.
We had to be there.
Emily was nervous the whole drive over.
Picking at her nails.
Breathing fast.
“What if they get out on bail? What if they come after me? What if—”
I took her hand.
Squeezed it.
“Hey. Look at me. Nothing is going to happen to you. I’m right here. Mike is right behind us. Tom is in the courtroom. There are twenty uniformed police officers in that building. And besides… they’re done. Everyone knows what they are. No one is going to help them anymore.”
She took a deep breath.
Nodded.
“Okay. I’m ready.”
The courtroom was packed.
Reporters.
Protesters.
Supporters.
The Prescotts were led in in handcuffs.
Margaret looked furious.
Her hair was a mess.
No diamonds.
No designer suit.
Just a plain jail jumpsuit.
Ethan looked scared.
Pale.
Trembling.
Brandon just looked angry.
Glowering at everyone.
They saw us.
Margaret’s eyes locked on mine.
She mouthed two words.
I’ll kill you.
I didn’t even blink.
I just stared right back.
And mouthed one word back.
Try.
The judge came in.
Read the charges.
Then he addressed bail.
The Prescotts’ lawyer argued they were upstanding citizens.
No flight risk.
Deserved to be home with their family while awaiting trial.
The prosecutor stood up.
And he dropped the hammer.
He told the judge about the witness tampering.
The attempts to have me deported Maria.
The threats against me and Emily.
The fact that the Prescotts had private jets.
Homes in three countries.
Forty million dollars in offshore accounts.
More than enough money to run forever.
Then he looked right at the judge.
“Your Honor, these are not upstanding citizens. They are dangerous, violent criminals who have spent their entire lives believing they are above the law. If you release them, they will flee. And they will hurt more people. I ask that you deny bail. Remand them into custody until trial.”
The judge looked at the Prescotts.
Long and hard.
Then he spoke.
“Bail is denied. All three defendants will be held without bond at the county jail. Trial date is set for three months from today.”
The gavel came down.
Margaret screamed.
Threw herself at the table.
Yelling that this was a travesty.
That she’d have the judge’s job.
That she owned this state.
The bailiffs grabbed her.
Dragged her out.
Ethan was crying.
Sobbing.
Begging for his mom.
Brandon fought the bailiffs.
Had to be tackled to the ground.
Handcuffed tighter.
It was the most satisfying thing I’d ever seen.
Emily squeezed my hand so tight I thought she’d break my fingers.
But she was smiling.
Through her tears.
“Did you see that, Mom? They’re going to jail. Real jail. Not some fancy country club prison. Real jail.”
I smiled back.
“I saw, baby. I saw.”
As we walked out of the courtroom, reporters swarmed us.
Shouting questions.
“Colonel Hart! How does it feel to see them in cuffs?”
“Emily! Do you have anything to say to the Prescotts?”
I stopped.
Put my arm around Emily.
Looked straight into the cameras.
“Today is a good day. Not just for us. But for every person who has ever been hurt by someone rich and powerful who thought they could get away with it. Today proves that no matter how much money you have. No matter how many connections you have. No matter how important you think you are. If you hurt someone. If you abuse someone. You will be held accountable. That is all.”
Then I turned.
And walked Emily out of there.
With her head held high.
The next three months were a blur.
Preparing for trial.
Meeting with witnesses.
Going over evidence again and again.
Emily started therapy.
Twice a week.
She was getting stronger.
Brighter.
The scared little girl from the hospital was gone.
In her place was a woman.
Tough.
Brave.
Determined.
She started volunteering at a domestic violence shelter.
Talking to other survivors.
Helping them find their voices too.
“I know what you’re going through,” she’d tell them.
“I was where you are. Scared. Alone. Convinced no one would ever believe me. But I got out. And you can too. There are people who will help you. You just have to ask.”
I was so proud of her I could barely breathe.
Trial day finally came.
The courtroom was even more packed than the arraignment.
The prosecution went first.
They called Maria.
She testified bravely.
Told the jury everything she’d seen.
They called Tom.
He testified about the security tapes.
How he’d copied them.
How the Prescotts had tried to erase them.
They called the forensic nurse.
She showed the jury the photos.
Explained exactly how each injury had happened.
Then they played the tapes.
The whole courtroom went silent.
You could hear a pin drop.
The jury watched.
Faces turning red.
Then white.
Then angry.
You heard Margaret yelling.
Calling Emily every terrible name in the book.
You heard Brandon laughing as he threw her into the guest house.
You heard Ethan telling her no one would ever believe her.
That she was nothing.
When the tapes ended, half the jury was crying.
The other half looked ready to climb over the bench and strangle the three defendants themselves.
The defense tried.
They really did.
They tried to say the tapes were faked.
That Maria was lying for money.
That Tom was disgruntled.
That Emily was crazy.
That I was a manipulative monster.
But no one believed them.
Not the jury.
Not the reporters.
Not even their own families, who’d stopped coming to the trial after the first week.
The worst moment for the defense came when Ethan took the stand.
His own lawyer tried to get him to say Emily had made it all up.
But Ethan broke.
Right there on the stand.
Sobbing.
Snot running down his face.
He admitted everything.
How his mom had controlled him his whole life.
How she’d told him Emily was beneath him.
How he’d been too scared to stand up to her.
How he’d watched them hurt her.
And done nothing.
“I’m sorry,” he cried.
Looking right at Emily.
“I’m so sorry, Emily. I was weak. I was a coward. I should have protected you. I didn’t. I’m sorry.”
The whole courtroom was silent.
Emily just stared at him.
No anger.
No hate.
Just… nothing.
Like he was a stranger to her.
Like he didn’t even exist.
Closing arguments came two days later.
The prosecutor was powerful.
Passionate.
He held up a photo of Emily from the hospital.
Then a photo of her now.
Smiling.
Strong.
“Look at her,” he told the jury.
“Look at what they tried to destroy. And look at what she became anyway. These three defendants thought they were above the law. They thought money could buy them anything. But there’s one thing money can’t buy. Justice. And today, you have the chance to give it to her. Don’t let them get away with it. Find them guilty. On all counts.”
Then it was our turn.
Sarah was brilliant.
Calm.
Steady.
She laid out every single piece of evidence.
One by one.
Until there was no doubt left in anyone’s mind.
Then the defense got up.
And their closing argument was basically just “they’re rich and important, please don’t send them to jail.”
No one bought it.
The jury left to deliberate at 3:00 PM.
We sat in the courtroom.
Waited.
An hour passed.
Two.
Three.
Emily squeezed my hand.
“Mom? What if they find them not guilty?”
I kissed the top of her head.
“They won’t, baby. Everyone in that room knows what they did. It’s just a matter of time.”
At 6:47 PM, the bailiff came back in.
“Jury has reached a verdict.”
My heart started pounding.
Emily grabbed my hand so tight it hurt.
The jury filed in.
No one would look at the Prescotts.
That was a good sign.
The judge asked the foreman to stand.
“How do you find the defendant, Margaret Prescott, on count one, false imprisonment?”
“Guilty.”
A gasp went through the courtroom.
“Count two, assault causing grievous bodily harm?”
“Guilty.”
“Count three, conspiracy?”
“Guilty.”
“Count four, witness tampering?”
“Guilty.”
They went through every count.
All guilty.
For Margaret.
For Brandon.
For Ethan.
Every single one.
Guilty.
Margaret collapsed.
Screaming.
Brandon put his head in his hands.
Ethan just sat there.
Staring straight ahead.
Numb.
The judge banged his gavel.
Ordered silence.
Then he looked at the three of them.
His face was like stone.
“You three have spent your lives hurting people. Using your money and your power to get whatever you wanted. To destroy whoever got in your way. Well, it ends today. I have seen the evidence. I have heard the witnesses. And I have never seen a more clear-cut case of guilt in my thirty years on the bench.”
He leaned forward.
“Margaret Prescott. You are the architect of all of this. You controlled your sons. You abused everyone around you. You thought you were a queen. But queens who hurt their people lose their crowns. I sentence you to the maximum term allowed by law. Twenty-five years in state prison. No possibility of parole.”
Margaret screamed.
Louder than ever.
The bailiffs dragged her out.
“Brandon Prescott. You were the muscle. You enjoyed hurting people. You thought your strength made you better than everyone else. It didn’t. It just made you a bully. And bullies get what they deserve. Twenty years. No parole.”
Brandon didn’t even fight.
He just stood.
Let them take him.
“Ethan Prescott. You were not the leader. But you were there. You watched. You did nothing. You let them hurt the woman you claimed to love. That makes you just as guilty. But you cooperated. You showed remorse. Ten years. With the possibility of parole after seven.”
Ethan nodded.
Like he knew he deserved every second.
Then the judge turned to us.
His face softened.
“Emily. Colonel Hart. I am so sorry for what you went through. No one should ever have to suffer like that. But I want you to know. You did a brave thing. You stood up. You fought. And because of you, no one else will ever have to go through what you did at the hands of these people. Thank you. For your courage. For your strength. For making this state a safer place. Court is adjourned.”
The gavel came down.
The courtroom erupted.
Reporters shouting.
Supporters cheering.
Emily turned to me.
And threw her arms around my neck.
Crying harder than ever.
“We did it, Mom. We actually did it.”
I held her.
And for the first time since that phone call, I let myself cry too.
Happy tears.
Relieved tears.
Tears of pride.
We had won.
Against all odds.
Against one of the most powerful families in the country.
We had won.
May you like
And now?
Now we could finally start living again.
