Chapter 8 - The Arraignment
The county municipal courtroom smelled of old paper, damp wool coats, and despair.
I sat in the second row of the gallery, dressed in a sharp navy blazer that concealed the dressings on my shoulder and neck. Evander sat to my right, his hand resting firmly over mine. On the opposite side of the aisle sat Delphine, flanked by two society friends who looked utterly mortified to be inside a public courthouse.
The side door clicked open, and a bailiff escorted Serafina into the courtroom.
The transformation was striking. Stripped of her designer clothing, her makeup, and her jewelry, Serafina looked gaunt and terrified in the standard-issue orange jumpsuit. Her hands were cuffed to a chain around her waist, her feet shuffling in orange rubber slip-ons. When her eyes swept the gallery and met mine, pure, venomous hatred flared behind her pupils—followed immediately by a flicker of gut-wrenching panic.
Judge Marcus Holloway, a notoriously no-nonsense magistrate with thirty years on the bench, flipped through the case file with agonizing slowness.
"Case number 24-CR-8891," the bailiff droned. "State versus Serafina Vance. Charges: Aggravated Assault with a Deadly Weapon, Simple Battery, and Tampering with Evidence."
Arthur Pendelton stood at the defense table, his voice lacking its earlier bravado. "Your Honor, my client is a pillar of the community with zero prior criminal history. This entire incident was an unfortunate Thanksgiving misunderstanding between siblings. We request immediate release on her own recognizance."
The assistant district attorney, a sharp-featured woman named Chen, rose instantly.
"The State strongly objects, Your Honor. The defendant intentionally hurled a tureen of boiling liquid at the victim's face, struck another victim, and attempted to destroy the security infrastructure of the home prior to the assault. We have timestamped 4K video evidence, medical documentation of second-degree burns, and an audio trail of witness intimidation attempted by the defense's associates this morning."
Judge Holloway looked over his spectacles at Pendelton. "Mr. Pendelton, did you review the surveillance video provided by the prosecution?"
Pendelton swallowed visibly. "I have, Your Honor, but—"
"Then you know damn well this wasn't a 'misunderstanding,'" Judge Holloway barked, his voice echoing off the wood-paneled walls. "That liquid was steaming. If the victim hadn't exhibited extraordinary reflexes, we would be holding a preliminary hearing for attempted manslaughter."
Delphine let out a loud gasp from the gallery. "That's absurd!"
*BANG!*
Holloway’s gavel came down like thunder. "One more word from the gallery and you will spend the weekend in a cell for contempt! Am I clear, ma'am?"
Delphine shrank back into her seat, pressing a trembling hand over her mouth.
"Bail is set at seventy-five thousand dollars, cash or surety," Judge Holloway ruled coldly. "Should the defendant make bail, she is subject to immediate electronic GPS monitoring. Furthermore, I am issuing a temporary restraining order. Defendant is to remain a minimum of five hundred yards away from Maya Vance and Evander Vance, their residence, and their places of employment. No third-party contact. No social media posts. Next hearing date is set for the fourteenth."
As the bailiffs turned Serafina around to lead her back through the holding cell door, she lost the last shred of her composure.
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"Evander!" she screamed, thrashing against the waist chain. "Pay the bail! Don't leave me here! Maya, you bitch, I'll kill you! I swear to God I'll kill you!"
The heavy steel door slammed shut behind her, cutting off her hysterical cries mid-sentence.
