Chapter 10 - The Arraignment
The following day, I attended the arraignment via secure video link from the conference room of my lawyer's office, seated in a loaner wheelchair while my custom chair was being repaired.
On the screen, Grant appeared in an orange prison jumpsuit, his wrists shackled to a chain around his waist. His slicked-back hair was disheveled, his eyes bloodshot, his face pale and sunken. Eleanor sat two rows behind him in the gallery, out on an emergency fifty-thousand-dollar bond, her eyes locked on the courtroom camera with an expression of pure, unadulterated hatred.
"Case number 24-CR-8891, State of Ohio versus Grant Vance," the clerk read. "Charges: Aggravated Assault, Battery resulting in Serious Bodily Injury, and Conspiracy to Commit Grand Fraud."
The prosecutor, a sharp-featured woman named ADA Vance-Miller (no relation), stepped up to the podium.
"Your Honor, the state requests that the defendant be held without bail. The victim is a vulnerable adult with a severe mobility disability. The defendant used targeted violence to inflict physical trauma in an attempt to financially exploit her trust estate. We have recovered extensive electronic records demonstrating premeditation, and the viral evidence clearly shows the defendant poses an ongoing physical danger to the victim."
Grant’s public defender stood up quickly. "Your Honor, my client has deep roots in the community. He has no prior violent felony convictions. This was a tragic domestic dispute exacerbated by alcohol—"
"Tragic domestic dispute?" Judge Harrison cut in, his glasses perched low on his nose as he reviewed the evidence on his monitor. "Counselor, I have watched the video. Your client rammed a paraplegic woman into a wooden table with enough force to crack ribs and split her skull, then laughed about it while she lay bleeding on the floor. That is not a dispute. That is predatory violence."
The judge looked directly into the video feed, addressing me. "Miss Vance, would you like to make a statement regarding bail?"
I wheeled myself forward, directly in front of the camera lens. I didn't hide the bandage on my forehead or the brace wrapped around my ribs.
"Your Honor," I spoke clearly, my voice ringing without a tremor. "For three years, Grant and my mother made me believe that my survival was a burden they graciously bore. They isolated me, manipulated my finances, and finally tried to break what little independence I had left. If Grant is released on bail, I will never feel safe in my own home, in my clinic, or on the streets. He didn't just assault me; he tried to erase me. I ask that he remain behind bars until a jury decides his fate."
Grant lunged forward against the defense table, his chains rattling violently. "Maya, stop! You're ruining my life! Mom, tell her to stop!"
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"Silence in this court!" Judge Harrison slammed his gavel down, the wooden crack echoing through the speakers. "Bail is hereby denied. Defendant will be remanded to the custody of the county sheriff pending trial."
Eleanor let out a sharp cry from the gallery and buried her face in her hands. Grant was dragged through the holding cell door by two bailiffs, his frantic screams echoing until the heavy metal door clicked shut.
