Chapter 7 - The Cold Cell Of Reality
Inside the Henrico County Regional Jail, the air smelled of floor disinfectant and damp steel.
Vivian Vance Ellis sat on the edge of a bolted metal bunk, her hands trembling uncontrollably as she stared at the concrete floor.
The designer silk blouse she had worn to the ceremony was gone, replaced by a coarse orange jumpsuit that scratched against her skin.
Her manicure was chipped, her foundation had melted away into jagged streaks of dried salt, and her styled blonde hair was matted into a bird's nest against her neck.
For twenty-four hours, she had demanded to speak to the warden.
She had screamed at the intake officers that her brother-in-law sat on the state judicial ethics board.
She had threatened to have every deputy in the facility stripped of their pensions.
None of it had worked.
The heavy iron slide on the holding cell door opened with a harsh, metallic screech.
A female guard with a buzz cut and a sidearm stood in the doorway, jangling a set of brass keys.
"Ellis, step up," the guard ordered in a flat, indifferent monotone.
"Your counsel is in Consultation Room Three."
Vivian scrambled to her feet, stumbling slightly on the cheap plastic slip-on shoes issued by the jail.
"About time!" Vivian snapped, attempting to summon her old imperious tone, though her voice wavered with exhaustion.
"I want an immediate bail review! I will not spend another night sleeping on a plastic foam mat like a common street criminal!"
The guard didn't even blink.
She placed a firm hand on Vivian's shoulder, guiding her down the concrete corridor with mechanical detachment.
Consultation Room Three was a windowless cube containing a laminate table and two plastic chairs bolted to the floor.
Sitting on the other side of the acrylic partition was Robert Sterling, the senior managing partner of Sterling & Vance, the high-profile legal firm Vivian’s family had used for forty years.
Robert was an immaculate, silver-haired attorney who had handled Vivian’s divorce from her first husband and Arthur’s corporate contracts.
Today, Robert did not look composed.
His briefcase lay open on the table, surrounded by thick legal dossiers stamped with red Department of Justice seals.
"Robert, thank God," Vivian gasped, falling into the plastic chair and grabbing the telephone receiver connected through the glass.
"Get me out of here. Post whatever bond they want. Use the Richmond estate. Arthur can liquidate his municipal bond portfolio if necessary."
Robert Sterling picked up his receiver slowly, his expression grim and completely devoid of warmth.
"Arthur isn't liquidating anything, Vivian," Robert said quietly.
"In fact, Arthur spent the morning at an independent firm in downtown Richmond."
"He filed a petition for emergency legal separation and froze all joint accounts."
Vivian dropped the receiver onto the shelf before snatching it back up, her eyes bulging with disbelief.
"What? Arthur did what?"
"That pathetic little worm wouldn't dare!"
"That house belongs to my trust! The memberships are in my family's name!"
"The house is in both your names, Vivian," Robert corrected, his voice icy.
"And the federal government just placed a tax lien and an asset forfeiture hold on every single account associated with Chase Vance."
Vivian felt the room tilt sideways, the concrete walls closing in on her chest.
"Why would they touch Chase's accounts? Chase is a victim in this! He was traumatized!"
Robert rubbed his temples, letting out a long, ragged sigh that sounded like defeat.
"Vivian, listen to me very carefully, because your freedom depends on you shutting your mouth and understanding the gravity of your situation."
Robert leaned closer to the acrylic partition, his knuckles turning white as he tapped the glass.
"You assaulted a commissioned United States Army Captain in front of three hundred witnesses and five accredited news organizations."
"The victim is a recipient of the Distinguished Service Cross."
"The Department of Defense did not let Henrico County handle this as a domestic dispute."
"The United States Attorney for the Eastern District of Virginia just unsealed a four-count federal indictment against you."
Vivian laughed nervously, her fingers digging into the plastic receiver until her knuckles turned blue.
"Assault? On a woman who lives on military pay? I’ll plead down to a misdemeanor disorderly conduct, pay a fine, and walk out."
"It's not a misdemeanor, Vivian," Robert said, his voice dropping into a harsh whisper.
"Count One is Aggravated Assault on a Federal Officer."
"Count Two is Deprivation of Civil Rights under color of law."
"Count Three is Witness Tampering, stemming from the voicemails you left on Mara’s voicemail last month threatening to ruin her career if she applied for her service records."
Vivian’s breath hitched in her throat.
"Those were private family matters!"
"They were recorded on a government-monitored cellular line, Vivian," Robert countered ruthlessly.
"And the federal judge assigned to your case is Judge Thomas Garrett."
Vivian went completely pale.
Thomas Garrett was a former Marine artillery officer whose son had been killed in Fallujah in 2004.
"He will crucify me," Vivian whispered, the realization finally breaking through the thick wall of her arrogance.
"Yes, he will," Robert said flatly.
"Unless you accept a plea agreement."
"What kind of plea?"
Robert slid a document against the glass partition.
"A guilty plea to Count One and Three."
"A minimum mandatory sentence of forty-eight months in a federal correctional facility."
"And a formal, public apology read in open court to Captain Mara Ellis and the family of Lieutenant Ryan Hale."
Vivian jerked the receiver away from her ear as if it had burned her skin.
"Four years? In a federal prison?"
"Apologize to that girl? To that little ungrateful brat?"
"Never! I will fire you, Robert! I will hire a real defense team from Washington!"
Robert stood up, slowly packing his legal briefs back into his leather briefcase with deliberate care.
"You won't hire anyone from Washington, Vivian."
"Why?" she screamed through the glass.
Robert locked his briefcase with two sharp snaps.
"Because your son Chase Vance was arrested thirty minutes ago at his apartment."
"The Army Criminal Investigation Division and the FBI executed an arrest warrant for False Official Statements, Wire Fraud, and Criminal Cowardice resulting in death under the Uniform Code of Military Justice."
"Every dime in your family's accounts is currently frozen by the federal government under anti-fraud statutes."
"I am withdrawing as your counsel by five o'clock today."
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"Good luck, Vivian. You are going to need it."
Robert Sterling turned his back on her and walked through the heavy security door, leaving Vivian Vance Ellis alone in the sterile room, screaming his name into a dead telephone line.
