Chapter 18 - The Cannibals Turn
On the fifth day of the trial,
the prosecution rested its case after presenting forty-two expert witnesses,
three hundred pages of forensic banking transactions,
and the complete inventory of the Mojave desert black-site laboratory.
When the defense was called to present its case,
the fragile facade of unity that had held the defendants together shattered into an ugly,
public bloodbath of mutual accusations.
Julian Vance-Drake announced that Victor Sterling would not take the stand due to acute cardiac complications,
attempting instead to place the entire legal blame on the shoulders of Beatrice and Ryan Vance.
"Mr.
Sterling was a victim of corporate extortion,"
Julian argued before the court,
waving a stack of fabricated emails.
"He was led to believe that the biological samples being provided were ethically sourced from consenting adult donors through standard European medical channels.
It was Beatrice Vance who conceived this horrific operation,
and it was Ryan Vance who exploited his own son to cover his multi-million dollar corporate embezzlements."
At the end of the defense table,
Beatrice Vance lost what little sanity she had left.
She stood up from her chair,
knocking her water glass to the floor where it shattered into shards against the carpet,
her face contorting into a mask of demonic fury.
"You lying parasite!"
Beatrice shrieked,
pointing her bony,
trembling finger directly at Victor Sterling.
"You sat in my living room in Bel Air!
You drank my wine!
You told me that your granddaughter had six months to live,
and that you would pay twenty million dollars in bearer bonds if we provided an exact HLA match from an infant donor!
You provided the diplomatic transport!
You hired Dr.
Cross!
You sent your private mercenaries to raid the hospice in Topanga Canyon!
Do not dare sit in that wheelchair and pretend you are an innocent grandfather,
you decrepit,
murderous ghoul!"
"Order in this court!"
Judge Thornton’s gavel slammed down against the sound block with the force of a pistol shot.
"Marshal,
restrain the defendant immediately!"
Two federal marshals grabbed Beatrice by her shoulders,
forcing her back into her seat,
while her own defense attorney buried his face in his hands,
realizing that his client had just confessed to the entire conspiracy on the official court record.
"Mrs.
Vance,"
Judge Thornton warned,
his eyes blazing with cold judicial wrath,
"one more outburst of that nature,
and you will be removed from this courtroom and spend the remainder of this trial in a holding cell."
Beatrice slumped back,
heaving,
spittle drying on her lips,
her eyes darting wildly like those of a rabid wolf caught in a steel trap.
Then came the most devastating moment of the entire proceeding.
Ryan Vance stood up,
ignoring the frantic whispers and restraining tugs of his attorney,
and walked forward toward the center of the courtroom.
"Your Honor,"
Ryan said,
his voice cracking,
tears streaming down his hollow cheeks,
"I wish to withdraw my plea of not guilty.
I wish to enter an open plea of guilty to all counts,
and I request permission to testify as a witness for the United States government."
The gallery gasped in collective shock.
Julian Vance-Drake leaped to his feet,
his face turning purple with rage.
"Objection,
Your Honor!
This is a gross violation of joint defense agreements!
This defendant is mentally unstable and attempting to fabricate testimony to secure leniency!"
"Overruled,
counsel,"
Judge Thornton ruled instantly,
waving his hand with finality.
"A criminal defendant has the absolute constitutional right to enter a plea of guilty at any stage of the proceedings.
Swear the witness in."
Ryan Vance climbed the steps to the witness stand,
his knees shaking so violently that he nearly stumbled,
his eyes red and swollen from crying.
He did not look at his mother,
who was glaring at him with pure,
unadulterated hatred,
nor did he look at Victor Sterling,
whose knuckles were white against his cane.
He looked directly at the jury,
and for the next three hours,
he stripped the Vance family legacy down to its filthy,
rotten core.
"Everything Mariana said was true,"
Ryan testified,
his voice trembling with profound,
shameful misery.
"We were broke.
Vance Biometrics was an empty shell,
our neural patent applications had been rejected by the FDA,
and we owed thirty-four million dollars to private creditors who were threatening to send us to prison for fraud.
My mother came to me four months before Leo’s birthday with the proposal from Victor Sterling."
"And what was that proposal,
Mr.
Vance?"
Evelyn Ramos asked,
stepping forward,
her voice steady and relentless.
"Sterling offered to clear all our debts,"
Ryan sobbed,
wiping his nose with the back of his hand,
"and transfer ten million dollars into an offshore Cook Islands trust,
in exchange for a full biological harvest of our son’s cervical stem cells and bone marrow.
My mother convinced me that Leo wouldn't be hurt,
that Dr.
Cross had done this dozens of times in Europe,
and that an infant's cells would regenerate within three weeks without leaving any permanent damage."
"And who provided the paralytic agent,
Mr.
Vance?"
"Victor Sterling’s private medical team,"
Ryan answered,
his voice dropping to a harsh whisper that echoed in the silent room.
"Sterling personally arranged for the rocuronium to be flown in from a private clinic in Zurich under consular seals,
so it wouldn't be flagged by American customs.
He gave the vials to Dr.
Cross in his penthouse suite at the Beverly Hills Hotel two days before the party.
And when Mariana escaped with Leo,
it was Victor Sterling who ordered the armed mercenaries to Topanga Canyon.
He told me that if the child wasn't retrieved before his flight departed,
he would ensure that both my mother and I were murdered in federal prison before we ever made it to trial."
A heavy,
crushing silence fell over Courtroom 9A.
Victor Sterling closed his eyes,
his head slumping forward onto his chest,
knowing that the testimony of his own co-conspirator had completely annihilated his defense.
There was no escape left.
There were no appeals that could overturn this testimony.
May you like
The truth had come out into the light,
and the reckoning was now at hand.
