Chapter 7 - The Interrogation of Dominic Ward
At 9:30 AM, inside the subterranean concrete interrogation suite of the Dirksen Federal Building in downtown Chicago, thirty-four-year-old Dominic Ward sat slumped at a bolted stainless-steel table.
His four-thousand-dollar cashmere coat had been stripped away and cataloged into federal evidence; his silk necktie was gone; his white shirt was rumpled, stained with sweat and dirt from his arrest.
His right hand was handcuffed to a heavy steel ring anchored directly into the center of the table; his styled hair had collapsed into an unwashed, greasy mess; his eyes were bloodshot, hollowed out by fear and sleeplessness.
Sitting across the scratched metal table were Assistant United States Attorney Sarah Lin and Special Agent Marcus Cole.
Between them rested five thick, red-tabbed evidence binders containing the complete forensic data recovery from Ward Tower, the decrypted satellite audio logs, and the handwritten municipal bribery ledger.
"Let's review the finalized federal indictment, Mr. Ward," Prosecutor Lin began, her voice flat, clinical, and completely devoid of warmth.
"At eight o'clock this morning, your private defense counsel submitted an emergency motion claiming that your presence at Judge Sterling’s residence was a private domestic welfare check, and that you were acting out of concern for your pregnant wife’s psychiatric stability."
Dominic swallowed dryly, his voice cracking into a high-pitched, desperate rasp:
"It was! I swear to God on my mother's grave! Clara was having a breakdown! She attacked me in our kitchen! She threw a crystal vase at my head! I only restrained her to protect the baby! The men with me were private security guards to ensure she didn't harm herself on the highway!"
Agent Cole opened Binder Number Two, slamming an enlarged photographic print onto the metal table:
SLAP.
It was a high-resolution forensic medical photograph taken by Dr. Elena Vance four hours earlier:
It showed Clara’s left thoracic ribcage—black, purple, and blue with violent contusions, clearly displaying the distinct, crushing imprint of a men's heavy designer boot sole across her ribs.
Beside it was the thoracic X-ray displaying the clean, jagged fractures of her ninth and tenth ribs.
"This is not a crystal vase, Dominic," Agent Cole said, his deep voice carrying the terrifying weight of an iron anvil.
"This is the tread pattern of the bespoke John Lobb leather boots you were wearing when we arrested you in Judge Sterling’s driveway."
Dominic’s breath seized in his throat. His jaw dropped, his skin turning an apocalyptic shade of wet dough.
Prosecutor Lin opened Binder Number Three, hitting play on an audio recorder:
Dominic's Voice: "Bring her to the private medical clinic in Schaumburg. I already paid Dr. Keller fifty grand to handle the intake. I don't care if she's screaming about her ribs. If she tries to contact her father's old legal partners, pump her full of midazolam and keep her sedated..."
"You signed your own life sentence on digital audio, Dominic," Lin said coldly.
Lin pulled out a heavy, red-stamped federal indictment docket:
"Under Title 18 of the United States Code, Section 1962 and Chapter 96 of the Federal Criminal Code, the grand jury has returned a seventy-four-count true bill charging you with:
Racketeering and Operating a Continuing Criminal Enterprise;
Attempted Premeditated Murder of a Federal Witness;
Aggravated Kidnapping Resulting in Serious Bodily Injury;
And Deprivation of Civil Rights under Color of Law."
Lin leaned forward, her eyes boring into the weeping billionaire:
"The United States Attorney will be seeking the statutory maximum on all counts: Two Consecutive Life Terms at the United States Penitentiary, Florence ADX, with Zero Eligibility for Federal Parole, Probation, or Executive Commutation."
Dominic broke completely.
He threw his cuffed hand against his face, letting out a ragged, ugly, sniveling sob that shook his entire frame:
"Two life terms...?! In Florence?! In the supermax?!" he wailed like a broken child.
"Call Victoria! Call my mother-in-law! Tell Victoria I will surrender the eighty million dollars in Swiss bearer bonds! Tell her I will sign over the entire real estate portfolio to Clara! I'll never see the baby! I'll renounce all parental rights! Just... don't let them lock me away in a concrete box!"
Prosecutor Lin stood up, closing her binder with a sharp, heavy CLACK.
"Judge Victoria Sterling was in the federal chancery court sixty minutes ago, Mr. Ward," Lin said softly, looking down at him with unvarnished, absolute disgust.
"And she just signed the judicial order executing a Complete Summary Civil Asset Forfeiture of every single building, ship, and bank account you possess."
Lin looked at the federal marshals standing by the door:
May you like
"Take this monster to his cell."
As the armed officers dragged the weeping, thrashing criminal down the subterranean concrete corridor toward darkness forever, justice stood absolute, complete, and uncompromised.
