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Part 3
“Sit down, Mr. Vance!” I commanded, slamming my gavel down with a sharp crack that echoed like a gunshot in the silent courtroom.
Vance ignored me.
He shoved his own attorney aside, lunging toward the side exit.
But he didn’t make it three steps.
Two U.S. Marshals tackled him to the plush carpet, driving their knees into his back.
The distinct click of handcuffs snapping around his wrists was poetic justice.
Thorne didn’t move a muscle.
He sat frozen in his chair, openly weeping, utterly defeated by the magnitude of their mistake.
“Your Honor,” the prosecutor continued, his voice trembling slightly as he glanced up at my bruised and shaved head, putting the pieces together.
“Officer Hayes has surrendered a hidden ledger documenting twenty-four separate incidents of racially motivated brutality committed by the defendants.”
