Chapter 7 - The Trial of the Plastics
The federal trial of Evelyn and Chloe Jones began in mid-May at the John Joseph Moakley United States Courthouse in Boston.
The media circus surrounding the trial was unprecedented. Television cameras, news helicopters, and crowds of spectators lined the waterfront streets every morning, eager to catch a glimpse of the disgraced socialites who had attempted to steal millions and frame a helpless family member.
Inside Courtroom 502, Evelyn sat at the defense table wearing a plain dark grey prison jumpsuit, her once-impeccable hair streaked with silver roots, her face gaunt and bitter. Beside her, Chloe looked utterly destroyed, her eyes red-rimmed from constant crying, her fingers twitching nervously against the wooden table.
Adelaide took the witness stand on the third day of the trial.
She wore an elegant navy blue suit, her posture immaculate, her voice calm and authoritative as she answered the prosecutor’s questions for three hours.
She walked the jury through every single spreadsheet, every fraudulent wire transfer, and every forged signature, breaking down complex financial crimes into simple, undeniable facts that left no room for doubt.
When the defense attorney attempted to cross-examine her, attempting to paint Adelaide as a bitter, vengeful daughter seeking to destroy her family out of jealousy, Adelaide did not lose her temper.
“Mrs. Moretti,” the aggressive defense attorney sneered, stepping up to the podium. “Isn't it true that you felt resentment toward your stepmother and sister for years because they enjoyed a high social standing while you remained at home?”
“No,” Adelaide replied smoothly, looking directly at the twelve jury members. “I felt no resentment toward their social standing. I felt pity for their complete lack of integrity. My stepmother and sister did not commit grand larceny because they disliked me. They committed grand larceny because they believed they were above the law, and because they assumed I was too weak and uneducated to notice what they were doing.”
She looked across the courtroom at Evelyn.
“They were wrong,” Adelaide added quietly.
The jury returned a verdict in less than two hours.
Guilty on all counts.
Judge Sarah Montgomery looked down over her glasses at Evelyn and Chloe as she read the final sentences.
“Evelyn Jones, for the crimes of federal wire fraud, aggravated identity theft, and grand larceny, you are hereby sentenced to fourteen years in the Federal Correctional Institution in Danbury, Connecticut, with no option for early parole.”
Evelyn collapsed backward into her chair, letting out a sharp, strangled gasp.
“Chloe Jones, for your active participation in conspiracy and financial fraud, you are sentenced to seven years in federal custody.”
Chloe burst into loud, hysterical screams as two female corrections officers stepped forward, pulling her arms behind her back and snapping steel cuffs over her wrists.
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As the guards led them toward the side door leading to the holding cells, Chloe turned her head, looking at Adelaide sitting in the front row of the gallery beside Mateo.
Adelaide did not look at her with triumph, hatred, or cruelty. She simply looked at her with quiet, peaceful detachment—the look of a woman who had moved so far beyond the toxicity of her past that the people who had hurt her no longer held any power over her world.
