Chapter 6 - The Trial of Daniel MercerMy murder trial was formally dismissed.
Daniel's began eight months later.
This time, I entered the courthouse through the front doors.
No handcuffs.
No deputy.
Sophie stayed home.
She wanted to attend.
I refused.
“Why?”
“Because adults made this mess.”
“But Grandpa was my family.”
“So is Daniel.”
She looked disgusted.
“Technically.”
I smiled.
“Exactly why you're staying home.”
Daniel faced murder conspiracy, evidence tampering, obstruction and federal financial charges.
Victoria was tried separately because of her age and medical condition.
Reddick testified.
Claire testified.
I testified.
Then prosecutors played Arthur's recording.
Daniel's face collapsed when he heard his father's voice.
The jury listened to the final conversation between Arthur and Victoria.
Then messages between Daniel and Reddick.
Then evidence Daniel entered our home after Arthur's death.
His defense argued he believed Arthur died naturally.
He planted the vial only to create leverage during an inheritance dispute.
An outrageous defense.
But technically different from murder.
Then the prosecutor asked Daniel:
“If you believed your father died naturally, why did you possess the bottle used to poison him?”
Silence.
Daniel's attorney objected.
Overruled.
Daniel had no good answer.
The decisive evidence came from Victoria.
She accepted a plea.
In exchange for reduced sentencing due to age and health, she testified against her son.
Daniel stared at her as she entered.
“Mother.”
She did not look at him.
The prosecutor asked:
“Who first suggested Arthur had to be stopped?”
“Daniel.”
“Did stopped mean killed?”
Victoria paused.
“At first, I told myself no.”
“Then?”
“He said prison would destroy the family.”
“And?”
“I said scandal would destroy it first.”
“Who proposed using Grace?”
Victoria began crying.
“I did.”
I felt nothing.
She continued.
“Grace had touched Arthur's medication bottles. She was named in the will. It would look believable.”
The prosecutor asked:
“Did Daniel agree?”
“Yes.”
Daniel shouted from the defense table:
“She's lying!”
The judge ordered him silent.
Victoria finally looked at her son.
“No.”
Her voice shook.
“For once, Daniel, I'm not.”
The jury deliberated for seventeen hours.
Guilty.
Multiple counts.
Daniel received decades in prison.
Not life without possibility.
But enough that the man leaving court no longer looked like the powerful executive I married.
As deputies approached, he turned toward me.
“Grace.”
I stayed seated.
He whispered:
“I'm sorry.”
I believed he was.
That did not change the verdict.
I left.
Outside, reporters shouted:
“Do you feel vindicated?”
No.
Vindication sounded too clean.
I had lost a husband.
Arthur was dead.
Emily was dead.
Sophie had lost nearly every blood relative she knew.
Truth had won.
But truth did not return people.
I said only:
May you like
“I'm going home.”
Then I did.
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