Part 2: My mother tied me to a post while my sister raised steel scissors to my face, totally unaware that my phone hidden behind my back was recording every second of their crime.

The jury deliberated for less than ninety minutes.

When they returned to the courtroom at 3:15 PM on Friday afternoon, the atmosphere in Courtroom 4A was heavy, breathless, and tense.

My mother stood at the defense table beside her public defender, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, her knuckles white, her lips moving in a silent, desperate prayer.

Judge Bradley looked at the jury foreman, a stern, gray-haired man in his sixties. "Has the jury reached a unanimous verdict?"

"We have, Your Honor," the foreman announced, standing tall.

He handed the white verdict sheet to the bailiff, who passed it up to the bench.

Judge Bradley read the paper silently, nodded, and looked down at my mother.

"On Count One, Complicity to First-Degree Aggravated Assault with a Deadly Weapon... how do you find the defendant, Linda Morgan?"

"We find the defendant, Linda Morgan, GUILTY," the foreman declared.

A quiet murmur broke out in the gallery.

"On Count Two, Criminal Extortion... GUILTY." "On Count Three, Kidnapping... GUILTY." "On Count Four, Tampering with Evidence... GUILTY."

Guilty on all counts. Unanimous.

My mother let out a soft, choked gasp, her knees buckling beneath her. Her public defender had to grab her arm to keep her from collapsing onto the carpeted floor.

Judge Bradley looked at my mother with an expression of cold, unyielding severity.

"Linda Morgan," Judge Bradley spoke, his voice echoing clearly through the room. "You took an oath as a parent to protect, nourish, and support your child. Instead, driven by unimaginable greed and vanity, you subjected your daughter to a night of calculated terror, physical torture, and extortion inside her own home. You have demonstrated a complete absence of remorse, empathy, or human decency."

He picked up his pen and signed the formal sentencing order.

"On Count One and Three, you are sentenced to twelve years in the Ohio Department of Corrections without the possibility of early parole. On Counts Two and Four, an additional three years to run consecutively. Total sentence: fifteen years."

CRACK.

The heavy gavel struck the wood.

Two female sheriffs' deputies stepped forward immediately, grabbing my mother's arms, pulling her back, and clicking heavy steel handcuffs around her wrists.

As she was being led toward the side exit leading to the holding cells, my mother turned her head one last time.

Her eyes searched the front row, locking onto me.

There was no arrogance left in her face. No country-club polish. No superior smile.

There was only a hollow, terrifying, absolute realization that she was going to spend the next fifteen years of her life in a state prison cell, completely stripped of her home, her reputation, and her daughter.

"Rachel..." Linda whimpered, her voice cracking into a pathetic, desperate rasp as the deputies pulled her through the metal door. "Rachel... please..."