Chapter 6 - The Arraignment
On Monday morning, the Department 30 courtroom of the Los Angeles County Superior Court was packed to capacity.
Word had leaked to the press late Friday afternoon that the CEO of Sterling Global Logistics had personally pressed horrific felony charges against his own mother and sister. Tabloid reporters, high-society gossips, and corporate news camera crews crammed into the wooden pews behind the bar, their lenses primed for a bloodbath.
I sat in the front row of the gallery, flanked by Vance and Marcus. I wore a bespoke charcoal suit, my posture rigid, my expression an impenetrable wall of granite.
At precisely 9:30 AM, the side door of the courtroom clicked open.
A deputy led Corrine and Sloan out in handcuffs and ankle shackles, linked together by a heavy waist chain.
The gallery gasped collectively.
The transformation was absolute. The sixty-year-old matriarch who had spent her life dripping in diamonds and silk was now wearing a baggy, faded orange jumpsuit that hung off her narrow shoulders. Her immaculate blonde hair was matted, gray roots showing clearly under the harsh fluorescent lights. She wore no makeup, her face pale, sunken, and etched with lines of raw, unadulterated terror.
Behind her, Sloan was trembling so violently her leg irons clinked rhythmically against the linoleum floor. She was crying softly, her head bowed, trying to hide her red, swollen face from the flashing cameras in the back.
As they were led to the defense table, Corrine’s frantic eyes scanned the gallery.
When her gaze landed on me sitting in the front row, a surge of desperate hope flashed across her withered face.
“Thane!” Corrine wailed, taking a sudden step toward the gallery rail before the deputy yanked her back by her chain. “Thane, my baby! Look at me! Tell them it’s a mistake! Tell them to take these chains off me!”
I sat completely motionless, staring straight through her as if she were made of glass.
“Sit down, defendant!” the bailiff barked, shoving Corrine forcefully down into the wooden chair beside her court-appointed public defender—a tired-looking young man with a wrinkled suit who looked thoroughly overwhelmed by the circus.
Judge Evelyn Carter, a formidable woman with sharp gray eyes and thirty years on the bench, swept onto the dais, her black robes billowing behind her.
BANG.
The gavel struck the wooden block, bringing immediate, suffocating silence to the courtroom.
“Case number 26-CR-0894,” Judge Carter announced, reading from the dossier in front of her. “The People of the State of California versus Corrine Sterling and Sloan Sterling. Charges: Count One, First-Degree Residential Burglary; Count Two, Assault with a Deadly Weapon; Count Three, Attempted Grand Theft; Count Four, Felony Child Endangerment; Count Five, Conspiracy.”
The public defender stood up slowly, clearing his throat. “Your Honor, my clients enter a plea of not guilty to all counts. We request an immediate reduction of bail. The current five-million-dollar cash bail is unconstitutionally excessive for two women with no prior criminal records—”
“Your Honor,” the lead prosecutor cut in smoothly, stepping forward with a leather-bound folder. “The State strongly opposes any modification of bail. The evidence in this case is not merely circumstantial; it is absolute.”
The prosecutor turned toward the defense table, his voice booming through the silent courtroom. “We have submitted into evidence high-definition 4K video footage captured by the victim, Mr. Thane Sterling, documenting the defendants in the act of physically battering a pregnant woman while actively attempting to breach a fireproof safe with a sledgehammer.”
The prosecutor pulled out a printed transcript. “Furthermore, defendant Corrine Sterling was recorded shouting, and I quote: 'Cry louder, you pathetic wretch! Your husband is on a flight to Tokyo. No one is coming!' This demonstrates clear premeditation, malice, and a total disregard for human life.”
Murmurs erupted through the gallery like a sudden gust of wind. Reporters scribbled frantically on their pads.
Corrine slumped in her chair, burying her face in her shackled hands, sobbing hysterically. “No... no, it’s not true... Thane, tell them!”
Judge Carter looked over her glasses directly at Corrine, her expression turning into a mask of pure, unadulterated coldness.
“In my thirty years on the bench,” Judge Carter declared, her voice dropping like a heavy brass weight, “I have rarely witnessed an act of domestic betrayal so devoid of basic human morality. The defendants posed an immediate, physical threat to an innocent woman and an unborn child for no other reason than vulgar financial greed.”
Judge Carter picked up her pen. “Bail remains set at five million dollars cash each. A permanent protective order is issued. The defendants will remain in custody pending trial. Preliminary hearing is set for the fourteenth.”
BANG.
The gavel fell.
May you like
“Thane! THANE!” Sloan shrieked as the deputies grabbed her arms, dragging her toward the holding cell doors. “Don't leave us here! Thane, I’m your sister! I’m your little sister! PLEASE!”
I stood up slowly, straightened my tie, and turned my back on them as they were dragged through the iron doors into the dark.
