Chapter 18 - Stripping the Veil
|
The federal trial of Richard, Eleanor, and Daniel Whitmore began four months later.
It was dubbed the "Wedding Scandal Trial" by the national press. Every morning, hundreds of reporters lined the steps of the federal courthouse, waiting to catch a glimpse of the family that had fallen from grace so spectacularly.
I attended the first day of the trial as a key witness for the prosecution.
When I stepped into the courtroom, I wore a crisp, immaculate white suit. My hair was styled smoothly, and I wore no jewelry except for a simple silver watch my father had given me for my twenty-first birthday.
Eleanor sat at the defense table, wearing a drab gray prison jumpsuit. Her signature blonde hair was graying at the roots, and she looked frail and hollow. Daniel sat beside her, staring blankly at the defense table, refusing to look up at the jury gallery.
When I took the witness stand, the prosecutor asked me a single opening question:
"Mrs. Vance, can you explain to the jury what happened on the morning of your wedding?"
I looked directly at Eleanor Whitmore.
May you like
"On the morning of my wedding," I said clearly into the microphone, "Eleanor Whitmore attempted to destroy my dignity with a bucket of garbage. But in doing so, she opened the door to her own closet—and let the world see the trash she had been hiding for years."
Eleanor buried her face in her hands and wept loudly. The judge did not ask her to be quiet.
