Chapter 18 - The VerdictThe jury deliberated for less than forty-five minutes.
When they filed back into the courtroom at 2:15 PM, the atmosphere was as taut as a violin string.
"Will the defendants please rise," Judge Harrison ordered.
Evan and Diane stood up stiffly, flanked by two armed bailiffs. Evan looked toward the gallery one last time, searching for a single friendly face among his former colleagues or relatives.
There was no one. Uncle Arthur was absent. Brooke was absent. The Mercer seats were completely empty.
"On Count One, Class 1 Felony Bank Fraud," the jury foreman read in a clear, unwavering voice, "we find the defendant, Diane Mercer, guilty."
Diane let out a sharp, choked gasp and collapsed back into her chair, clutching her chest.
"On Count Two, Felony Identity Theft and Forgery," the foreman continued, "we find the defendant, Diane Mercer, guilty."
The foreman turned to the second page of the verdict sheet.
"On Count Three, Aggravated Domestic Intimidation, Destruction of Legal Evidence, and Corporate Fraud, we find the defendant, Evan Mercer, guilty on all counts."
Judge Harrison took off her glasses and looked down at the defense table with cold, judicial disgust.
"Evan Mercer and Diane Mercer," Judge Harrison declared, bringing her hand down on the wooden bench. "You engaged in a systematic, greedy, and abusive campaign against a woman who gave you nothing but grace. You destroyed documents, committed financial fraud, and used physical intimidation in an attempt to displace her from her rightful home."
She picked up her pen to sign the formal sentencing mandate.
"Diane Mercer: You are hereby sentenced to seven years at the Logan Correctional Center."
Diane shrieked, burying her face in her hands as her court-appointed lawyer tried to calm her down.
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"Evan Mercer," Judge Harrison continued, her voice slicing through his mother's cries. "For your convictions of grand larceny, corporate fraud, and domestic abuse, you are sentenced to twelve years at the Stateville Correctional Center, without eligibility for early parole for the first eight years."
Evan’s knees buckled. The two bailiffs had to catch him under his arms to keep him from sliding onto the floor as the handcuffs were clicked around his wrists behind his back.
