Chapter 6 - The Fall of Uncle Richard
In the sub-basement detention block of the FBI Field Office in Washington, D.C., Carter Sterling was losing his mind.
Both of his hands were wrapped in heavy plaster casts, throbbing with excruciating, pulsating agony. His designer suit was torn, stained with his own urine and sweat. He sat handcuffed to a stainless-steel table bolted to the concrete floor, screaming until his throat bled.
“Where is my lawyer?! I have constitutional rights! You can’t hold me without charges! You thugs assaulted me! You broke my bones! I will sue the federal government until there isn't a dollar left in the Treasury!”
The heavy iron door buzzed and swung inward.
Carter’s eyes lit up with wild hope. “Uncle Richard! Thank God! Richard, get these animals off me! They raided the house! They took Clara, they—!”
The words died in his throat.
Richard Sterling didn't walk in as the triumphant, untouchable Chief Deputy Prosecutor.
Richard was pushed into the room by two armed U.S. Marshals. He was wearing orange detention scrubs, his ankles shackled together, his wrists bound by a heavy chain around his waist. His slicked-back hair was a disheveled mess; his face was gray, sunken, and haunted.
“Uncle... Richard?” Carter whispered, trembling.
Richard looked at his nephew with a look of pure, unadulterated venom.
“You idiot,” Richard rasped, his voice shaking with hatred. “You absolute, brainless, arrogant worm. What did you do?”
“I... I didn't do anything!” Carter stammered. “Clara was being defiant, she fell, her dad called—”
“Do you have any idea who Clara Vance is?!” Richard screamed, lunging across the table as far as his chains would allow, spitting in Carter’s face. “Do you have any idea what you brought down on us?!”
The door opened again. A tall woman in a dark pinstripe suit stepped into the interrogation room, holding a thick manila folder. Behind her stood two agents from the Internal Revenue Service and the Chief of the Public Integrity Section of the Department of Justice.
She dropped the folder onto the table with a deafening thud.
“Richard Sterling,” she said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. “For twelve years, you’ve used the Alexandria prosecutor’s office to bury domestic violence charges for your wealthy donors, launder kickbacks through offshore real estate holdings, and dismiss four separate sexual assault complaints filed against your nephew, Carter.”
Carter stared at the woman. “Who... who are you?”
“I am Assistant Attorney General Katherine Shaw,” she said coolly. “And until three hours ago, your uncle’s files were sitting in a protected vault. But at nine-fifteen tonight, the Director of National Intelligence signed an executive national security warrant unsealing every encrypted server your family has touched since 2010.”
She opened the file, sliding photographs across the table.
Bank transfers. Offshore shell corporations in the Caymans. Audio transcripts of Richard threatening victims of Carter’s past collegiate abuses.
“Every judge who took your bribes has already been subpoenaed by a federal grand jury,” Shaw said, leaning forward. “Every asset belonging to the Sterling family trust has been frozen under the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act. Your law firm was padlocked forty minutes ago.”
Carter shook his head frantically, tears spilling over his bruised cheeks. “No... no, no, no! This is about a domestic dispute! This is a state matter! You can’t charge us federally for a family argument!”
“Aggravated assault with intent to murder an unborn child,” Shaw said, her voice dropping into a razor-sharp whisper. “Deprivation of civil rights under color of law. Conspiracy to commit witness tampering. And because Clara Vance is an active federal employee and the direct dependent of a senior defense official under continuous threat protocol—your actions have been classified as an act of targeted terrorism.”
Carter gasped, choking on his own saliva. “Terrorism?! That’s insane! I’m an attorney!”
“You were an attorney,” Shaw corrected smoothly. “The Virginia State Bar officially revoked your license forty-five minutes ago. You are now Federal Inmate 88421.”
Richard slumped forward, burying his face in his cuffed hands, weeping silently. “It’s over, Carter. We don't have money. We don't have friends. Everyone I ever helped is currently pretending they never heard the name Sterling. We’re going to die in a federal penitentiary.”
Shaw stood up, gathering her files.
May you like
“Enjoy your stay, gentlemen,” she said without looking back. “Trial starts in three weeks. Don't bother applying for bail. The judge assigned to your case... is General Vance’s former chief legal counsel.”
***
