Chapter 6 - The Bail Hearing
At two o'clock on Wednesday afternoon, the Suffolk County District Courthouse was packed with local news reporters and legal representatives.
Brandon stood behind the defense table wearing a orange jumpsuit, his hands restrained by a belly chain. His hair was messy, his jaw covered in rough stubble, his eyes dark with exhaustion.
Beside him stood a public defender—a young, overworked lawyer assigned to him after every high-end corporate firm in the city refused to take his case without a fifty-thousand-dollar cash retainer.
In the gallery sat Brenda and Sonia.
Brenda looked disheveled, her expensive designer dress wrinkled, her hair unbrushed. Sonia sat beside her, holding a crying Mason, her eyes red from weeping. They looked like refugees from a lifestyle that had evaporated overnight.
I walked into the courtroom accompanied by Arthur Pendelton and two private security officers. I took a seat in the front row of the gallery, directly across from Brandon’s defense table.
Brandon turned his head and saw me.
His eyes flared with a desperate, wild mix of anger and pleading.
"Hannah!" Brandon called out, his voice echoing across the high-ceilinged room before his lawyer pulled him down. "Hannah! Please! Tell them to drop the charges! This is ridiculous! It was just an argument!"
The judge banged his gavel with a loud, sharp crack.
"Order in the court!" Judge Miller barked, glaring over his glasses at Brandon. "Mr. Vance, one more outburst and I will hold you in contempt."
The prosecutor stood up, shuffling his files.
"Your Honor," the prosecutor announced, "the State is requesting bail be set at five hundred thousand dollars cash, along with a full surrender of the defendant’s passport. Mr. Vance faces multiple felony counts of corporate embezzlement, fraudulent diversion of funds, and misdemeanor child abuse. Furthermore, he presents a significant flight risk given his attempt to transfer assets offshore."
Brandon’s public defender stood up weakly. "Your Honor... my client is a lifelong resident of this city. He is the CEO of a major logistics firm—"
"He was the CEO," Arthur Pendelton interjected smoothly from the gallery bar. "Vance Logistics entered Chapter 11 bankruptcy proceedings at noon today. Mr. Vance has no formal employment, no access to corporate capital, and his personal assets are subject to a federal court freeze."
Brenda let out a loud, pathetic sob in the back row. "He has a son! He has a family to support! His widow sister-in-law is pregnant!"
Judge Miller slammed his gavel again, pointing a finger at Brenda. "Quiet in the gallery!"
The judge looked down at the financial records provided by the prosecutor, then turned his gaze back to Brandon.
"Bail is set at five hundred thousand dollars cash," Judge Miller ruled coldly. "No bond allowed. In addition, a temporary restraining order is granted prohibiting the defendant from coming within five hundred feet of Hannah Hayes Vance or Chloe Vance. Next case."
Brandon sank back into his chair, his head dropping into his cuffed hands as he began to weep softly.
As the bailiffs stepped forward to lead him back down to the holding cells, he turned his head, locking his tear-filled eyes onto mine.
"Hannah..." Brandon mouthed through the glass barrier separating us. "Please..."
I stood up slowly, smoothing the jacket of my black suit, looking at him with eyes as calm and still as a frozen lake.
May you like
I didn't answer him.
I turned around and walked out of the courtroom, my high heels echoing against the marble floor, leaving him behind in the dark.
