Chapter 8 - THE JUDGMENT OF BEACON HILL
The high-security holding room in the lowest level of the Ashford estate was a windowless concrete bunker equipped with heavy steel doors, soundproof walls, and bright fluorescent lights.
Derek Lawson was strapped securely into a heavy steel chair in the center of the room, his hands handcuffed behind his back, his bruised face covered in sweat and dried blood.
The steel door opened, and Gabriel stepped inside, accompanied by a sharp-looking man in a tailored grey suit holding a leather briefcase.
It was Arthur Vance—the lead federal prosecutor for the Northern District of Massachusetts.
Derek blinked against the harsh light, staring in disbelief at the federal prosecutor standing beside the crime lord. "Arthur? What... what are you doing here?"
Arthur Vance opened his briefcase on a small metal table, pulling out a thick legal document stamped with the official seal of the United States Department of Justice.
"Officer Lawson," Arthur said in a flat, clinical tone. "As of thirty minutes ago, a federal grand jury has formally returned a thirty-six-count indictment against you."
"Indictment?" Derek stammered, shaking his head frantically. "For what?!"
"Rico conspiracy, interstate narcotics distribution, extortion under color of official authority, and six counts of felony assault," Arthur read off the page calmly. "Additionally, Ms. Harper Queen has filed a sworn deposition detailing three years of domestic torture, attempted murder, and child endangerment."
Derek’s breath hitched in his throat. "Harper... she gave a statement?"
"She gave a three-hour videotaped testimony this afternoon," Gabriel spoke from the corner of the room, his voice dark and smooth. "Every mark on her body was photographed by federal forensics. Every fractured bone was documented by hospital records."
"It's her word against mine!" Derek screamed, thrashing against his steel restraints. "She's an unstable liar! She's crazy!"
"It is not just her word, Derek," Arthur Vance corrected, pulling a second sheet of paper from his briefcase. "We have the security footage from your neighborhood precinct. We have the wiretaps from your private cell phone. And we have the confession of your partner, Officer Higgins, who agreed to testify against you ten minutes ago to save his own skin."
Derek collapsed back against the chair, his face turning ghostly pale as his entire world completely crumbled into dust.
"You have two choices, Lawson," Arthur Vance stated flatly. "You can sign a full confession to all thirty-six counts right now, accept a mandatory thirty-year sentence at the ADX Florence supermax facility with no possibility of parole..."
"Or?" Derek whispered, his voice trembling violently.
Gabriel stepped forward into the bright light, leaning down until his dark eyes were inches from Derek's pale face.
"Or," Gabriel whispered, his voice dropping into a register that made Derek’s soul shiver, "I turn off the security cameras, I leave this room for ten minutes, and I let Vance show you what happens to men who hurt women in my city."
Derek looked at Gabriel’s cold, pitiless face and realized with absolute, terrifying certainty that the mob boss was not bluffing.
He looked at the legal document on the table.
May you like
He looked at the pen held out by the federal prosecutor.
With trembling, blood-stained fingers, Derek Lawson reached out his hand, picked up the pen, and signed his name at the bottom of the page, surrendering his freedom forever.
