Chapter 19 - The Trial of Denver
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October arrived, bringing the start of the formal criminal trial in Denver.
I flew to Colorado, leaving Lila in Seattle under the care of a trusted court-appointed protection team and Dr. Aris. The courthouse was surrounded by media trucks, protestors, and legal teams from three different federal agencies.
Inside Courtroom 402, Grant sat at the defense table. He was dressed in a sharp dark suit, but he had aged ten years in ten months. His hair was streaked with gray, and his posture was stiff, his eyes burning with an intense, unreadable focus.
When I took the stand as the state's star witness, Grant stared at me without blinking.
"Mr. Whitaker," the lead prosecutor asked, standing before the jury. "Please describe for the court what happened on the evening of December 24th in the defendant's kitchen."
For the next two hours, I laid out every single detail—the four words Lila whispered at the dinner table, the dark bruises on her back, Grant's threats on the snowy road, and the systematic cover-up that followed.
Grant's defense attorney spent three hours trying to shred my testimony, calling me a bitter, jealous younger brother who had fabricated a scandal to steal Grant's wealth and daughter.
But when the prosecution played the recovered surveillance video on the massive courtroom monitors, the jury wept. Two female jurors covered their faces, and even the judge looked away in horror.
When court adjourned for the day, Marcus met me in the marble corridor.
"The jury is going to convict him on every count, Evan," Marcus said, smiling for the first time in months. "Closing arguments are tomorrow morning. It's over."
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I looked down the long hallway toward the defense room. Grant was standing near the doorway, flanked by his two remaining guards. He caught my eye across the crowded corridor.
He didn't look defeated. He raised two fingers to his temple and made a subtle firing gesture.
