Chapter 8 - The Interrogation Room
The interview room at the Federal Building in downtown Boston was stark, illuminated by buzzing fluorescent lights. The air smelled of stale coffee and industrial floor cleaner.
Simone sat on one side of the metal table, wearing a dark gray prison jumpsuit over a white t-shirt. Her blonde hair, usually so perfectly coiffed, was pulled back into a messy ponytail. Her face was devoid of makeup, revealing the sharp, bitter lines of stress around her mouth.
Beside her sat Richard Sterling, one of the most expensive white-collar criminal defense attorneys in New England.
Across from them sat ADA Sarah Chen, Detective Vance, and myself. I had demanded to be present in the room as the primary victim and legal representative of the Ross-Cole Art Trust.
"My client will not be entering any plea regarding the art theft charges today," Sterling announced smoothly, placing his hands on the metal table. "The provenance of historic artwork is notoriously complex, Ms. Chen. My client was operating under the reasonable belief that she had managerial authority over household assets as Mr. Cole’s lawful spouse."
"Managerial authority?" ADA Chen laughed dryly, opening a thick blue legal folder. "Mr. Sterling, your client opened sixteen shell accounts in the Cayman Islands under a fraudulent Saint Kitts passport bearing the name Simone Vance-Laurent."
Sterling didn't flinch. "A precautionary asset management structure for high-net-worth individuals—"
"And what about this?" ADA Chen interrupted, pushing a tablet across the table.
She pressed play.
The 4K video feed from the diagnostic camera filled the screen.
Simone’s face on the monitor was crystal clear as she grabbed Mara Bennett’s forearm, squeezing until the young mother gasped in pain, forcing her against the granite counter while threatening her with prison and the loss of her child.
Simone’s eyes fixated on the screen. A tiny, nervous twitch appeared at the corner of her left eye.
"That is a video of my client directing household staff," Sterling attempted quickly.
"That is a video of felony extortion, physical assault, and witness tampering," ADA Chen corrected sharply. "And we have a signed affidavit from Mara Bennett, backed up by physical medical documentation of her injuries, as well as two signed forged transfer forms that your client attempted to attribute to Ms. Bennett."
Chen leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.
"Mr. Sterling, if this goes to trial, your client is facing federal art fraud charges under the National Stolen Property Act, sixteen counts of wire fraud, three counts of forgery, and two counts of felony extortion. She is looking at thirty to forty-five years in federal prison without the possibility of parole."
The silence in the room became unbearable.
Simone turned her head slowly to look at her attorney. "Richard... do something."
Sterling closed his eyes briefly, letting out a long, slow sigh. He turned off his microphone, leaned over, and whispered into Simone’s ear for two full minutes.
As he spoke, Simone’s face drained of every last drop of color. Her shoulders slumped inward, the last vestiges of her cold, arrogant posture completely collapsing.
She turned her eyes toward me.
"Darius," she said, her voice barely audible, stripped of all performance. "Please. We were married for eleven years. You loved me."
I looked at her from across the cold steel table.
"I loved a woman who didn't exist, Simone," I said quietly. "I loved a lie you created to rob my family."
"I was going to leave half the money in the trust!" she blurted out, her voice cracking with a sudden, pathetic desperation. "I didn't take everything! I left the real estate! I left the Concord properties! I only took the paintings you never looked at!"
"You didn't just take paintings, Simone," I said, my voice dropping into a register of absolute, terrifying conviction. "You hurt an innocent mother. You threatened a three-year-old child's future inside my own home. You used my mother’s memory as a bank account."
I stood up from the metal chair, picking up my coat.
"Offer her no plea deals, Sarah," I said to the Assistant District Attorney. "Let it go to a jury."
"Darius! No! Darius, please!" Simone screamed, her hands slamming against the metal table as Detective Vance stepped forward to restrain her. "Darius! Look at me!"
May you like
I didn't turn around.
I walked out of the interrogation room, the heavy steel door slamming shut behind me, locking her inside the cold, unforgiving reality she had crafted for herself.
