Chapter 14 - The Unanimous Verdict
One week later, the grand courtroom of the United States District Court for the Eastern District of Virginia was packed to the gallery rafters.
News cameras were prohibited inside the federal facility, but the steps of the courthouse outside were besieged by hundreds of journalists, satellite trucks, and citizens holding American flags. The scandal that had begun with a spilled cup of coffee in a Pentagon cafeteria had become the most significant public corruption trial in the history of the republic.
Inside, the jury foreperson stood before Chief Judge Robert Sterling.
“On the first count of Treason against the United States, how do you find the defendant, Arthur Sterling-Vane?”
“Guilty,” the foreperson announced, her voice ringing clear through the wood-paneled chamber.
“On the second count of Conspiracy to Defraud the Department of Defense?”
“Guilty.”
“On the third count of First-Degree Murder in the death of Dr. Thomas Cross?”
“Guilty.”
A collective gasp swept through the gallery, followed by the rapid scratching of pens from dozens of courtroom sketch artists and reporters.
Sitting at the prosecution table, I closed my eyes for a single, profound second. I felt the brass pocket watch resting against my heart.
It’s done, Dad.
Judge Sterling brought his gavel down with an iron strike.
“Arthur Sterling-Vane, you have betrayed the sacred trust of this nation, compromised the security of our men and women in uniform, and taken the life of an honorable patriot. Under the laws of the United States, you are hereby sentenced to life imprisonment without the possibility of parole, to be served at the United States Penitentiary, Florence ADMAX.”
He turned to the second defendant.
“Colonel Donald Mercer. For your role in this conspiracy and the violation of your sacred military oath, you are sentenced to thirty-five years at the United States Disciplinary Barracks at Fort Leavenworth, with total forfeiture of all pay, allowances, and military rank.”
The gavel struck again.
Justice was served.
Outside on the courthouse steps, a wall of flashbulbs exploded as I walked through the massive bronze doors, flanked by Master Sergeant Blake Rourke and General Marcus Vance. Microphones were shoved into our faces by fifty shouting reporters.
“Dr. Cross! Dr. Cross! What does this mean for the future of the Pentagon’s black budgets?”
“Is it true that the Vanguard program was saved by an enlisted Marine?”
“Dr. Cross, will you be testifying before the Senate next week?”
I stopped at the podium set up at the base of the marble steps. The autumn wind caught my hair as I adjusted the microphone.
“Three days ago, a brave Marine was told that his duty was to obey corrupt orders without question,” I spoke, my voice broadcasting live to tens of millions of television screens across the nation. “He was told that power belongs to those who control the money, the secrets, and the halls of authority.”
I looked over my shoulder at Blake Rourke, who stood tall in his service dress, unyielding as a mountain.
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“He proved them wrong. Our nation is not defended by black budgets or hypersonic drones. It is defended by the quiet, incorruptible integrity of ordinary men and women who remember their oath when the darkness falls.”
The plaza erupted into cheers and applause that echoed all the way down King Street to the Potomac.
