Chapter 12 - The Trial of Julian Warren-12
Six months later.
The Federal District Courthouse in downtown Portland was packed with reporters, television crews, and curious citizens.
The trial of The United States v. Julian Warren had reached its final day.
Julian sat at the defense table, wearing a dark gray prison jumpsuit, his hands restrained by waist chains. His former arrogance was completely gone, replaced by a sunken, hollow look of utter defeat.
His expensive private lawyers had tried every legal maneuver to suppress the live bunker audio recording, but the judge had ruled the evidence fully admissible.
Spencer sat in the front row of the gallery, holding eight-month-old Dexter on his lap. Beside him sat Jocelyn, looking radiant and healthy in an elegant cream suit, while Charlee—now neatly dressed in a school uniform—sat holding her father's hand.
The presiding judge slammed her wooden gavel down.
"Will the defendant please rise?" the judge ordered.
Julian stood up slowly, his chains clinking against his jumpsuit.
"Julian Warren," the judge declared sternly, looking down at him over her spectacles. "You have been found guilty on all counts: attempted murder of a minor, kidnapping, felony embezzlement, wire fraud, and obstruction of justice. Your actions displayed a chilling, sociopathic disregard for human life, driven entirely by greed."
The judge adjusted her papers.
"I sentence you to forty-five years in federal maximum-security prison, without the possibility of early parole."
Julian let out a choked groan, his knees giving out as two federal marshals grabbed his arms to keep him upright.
As they turned Julian around to lead him through the side door toward the holding cells, his eyes locked onto Spencer.
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Spencer didn't glare at him with anger or hatred. He simply looked at his brother with quiet, profound pity, holding his healthy, happy son close to his chest.
Julian hung his head in absolute shame as the heavy steel doors closed behind him forever.
