Chapter 9 - The Trial In Open Daylight
Six months later, the county courthouse was packed to capacity for the trial of David and Eleanor Mitchell.
I sat in the front row in my Class A dress uniform, sitting beside my attorney, Marcus Vance. Across the aisle, my parents sat in orange jumpsuits, their hair gray and unkempt, their heads bowed low over the defense table.
The evidence was overwhelming.
Marcus presented forty-eight bank statements showing direct transfers from the church relief fund into my father’s personal account. He presented the forged prison documents, matched against the official seals of the Department of the Army.
Judge Harrison didn't hold back. His gavel came down like thunder in the wood-paneled room.
“In my thirty years on the bench,” the judge said, glaring over his spectacles at my parents, “I have rarely seen such callous, self-serving deception. To erase your own child’s sacrifice, to declare an active-duty soldier a felon for the sake of real estate and petty cash, is an affront to this community and this country.”
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The sentence was swift: six years in state custody for my father, four years of probation and restitution for my mother, and a total lien on all their assets to repay every cent stolen from the church and my grandmother’s trust.
As the bailiffs led them through the side door, Eleanor turned back to look at me. Her lips moved, trying to form the word ‘sorry,’ but I simply looked at her, nodded once with military discipline, and let the door swing shut.
