Chapter 5 - The Arraignment
Courtroom 3-B smelled of old paper, lemon-scented floor wax, and damp wool coats. A low gray autumn rain was drumming against the high arched windows, casting the wood-paneled chamber in an austere, muted light.
I sat in the second row of the gallery, flanked by Arthur Byrne on my left and an advocate from the county domestic violence unit on my right. I wore a high-collared navy sweater that completely hid the bandages on my neck, but there was nothing I could do to conceal the dark purple bruising that had bloomed across the left side of my face, or the white medical gauze taped above my hairline.
Across the low mahogany rail, in the holding box, sat my mother and sister.
The transformation was staggering.
Stripped of her makeup, her jewelry, and her tailored cashmere, Sloane looked small, pinched, and terrifyingly ordinary. She wore an oversized orange institutional jumpsuit that swallowed her thin frame. Her hands were cuffed in front of her waist, linked to a chain around her middle. She kept her head down, refusing to look at the gallery, her jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles in her cheeks twitched uncontrollably.
Judith, however, sat with her back straight as an iron poker.
Even in orange, even with her silver hair disheveled from a night in a holding cell, she carried herself with the terrifying, arrogant composure of an empress who believed the guards had simply made an amusing clerical error.
Her eyes swept across the gallery until they landed on me.
She didn't flinch. She didn't look at the stitches. She didn't look at the black eye.
She looked at me with an expression of cold, aristocratic reproach—the exact same look she had given me when I was seven years old and had dropped an antique teacup during her Tuesday bridge club. It was the look that said: *See what embarrassment you have brought upon this house?*
Beside her, seated at the defense table, was Richard Sterling—not the judge, but his brother, one of the most expensive criminal defense attorneys in Central Pennsylvania. Standing behind the rail on the opposite side of the gallery was Uncle Robert, his face red with fury, his tailored camel-hair coat folded over his arm.
“All rise,” the bailiff barked.
Judge Eleanor Sterling swept into the room, her black robes billowing, her face an unreadable granite mask. She sat, adjusted her half-moon spectacles, and looked down at the docket.
“Commonwealth versus Sloane Merritt and Judith Merritt,” Judge Sterling read. “Preliminary arraignment on multiple felony counts. Mr. District Attorney, let us hear the Commonwealth’s position on bail.”
The assistant prosecutor, a sharp-featured woman named Sarah Lin, stepped forward to the podium.
“Your Honor,” Lin said, her voice clear and carrying through the silent courtroom, “the Commonwealth requests that defendant Sloane Merritt be remanded without bail, or in the alternative, that bail be set at no less than one million dollars cash. The defendant committed an unprovoked, brutal assault using a deadly weapon—specifically, a heavy crystal glass—against her sister, causing substantial bodily injury including a concussion and severe lacerations requiring surgical intervention.”
Richard Sterling was on his feet instantly. “Your Honor, this is an outrageous overreach by the Commonwealth! This is an unfortunate, tragic domestic dispute between two sisters who were in the process of an emotional separation. My client has no prior criminal record, deep ties to the community, and—”
“Mr. Sterling,” Judge Sterling interrupted, her voice dangerously calm. “Has your office reviewed the digital exhibit provided by the arresting officers?”
Sterling hesitated. A tiny flicker of uncertainty crossed his polished features. “I... I have had an opportunity to review the summary report, Your Honor, but—”
“I watched the video thirty minutes ago in chambers,” Judge Sterling said, looking over the rims of her glasses directly at Sloane.
The temperature in the courtroom seemed to drop ten degrees.
“I watched this defendant wind up and strike an unarmed, retreating woman in the head,” the judge continued, her voice cutting through the silence like a scalpel. “And then I watched defendant Judith Merritt calmly, intentionally lock the primary exit to the home to prevent the victim from seeking medical attention or fleeing the premises.”
Judith leaned forward, whispering furiously into Richard Sterling’s ear. Sterling held up a hand, trying to silence her, but Judith’s voice broke through the quiet:
*“She was having a manic episode! She broke my furniture!”*
Judge Sterling’s gavel came down with a sound like a rifle shot.
*BANG.*
“Defendant Judith Merritt will remain silent or be removed to the holding cells immediately!” the judge ordered. She turned her icy gaze back to the defense table. “Bail for Sloane Merritt is set at five hundred thousand dollars, ten percent allowed. Bail for Judith Merritt is set at two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, straight cash or approved property bond.”
Uncle Robert gasped audibly from the gallery.
“Furthermore,” Judge Sterling said, leaning forward, “I am issuing a permanent, full-stay-away order of protection. Neither defendant is to contact Paige Merritt directly, indirectly, through third parties, through electronic means, or through family members. Any violation—any attempt to harass, intimidate, or influence this witness—will result in the immediate revocation of bail and immediate remand to county prison. Is that understood?”
Richard Sterling swallowed hard. “Understood, Your Honor.”
“Next case,” the judge snapped.
As the bailiffs stepped forward to escort Sloane and Judith through the side door, Sloane finally looked up.
Her eyes locked with mine across the mahogany railing.
There was no remorse in them. There was only the naked, venomous hatred of a creature whose host had finally ripped out the IV line. Her mouth formed three silent, jagged words:
*You are dead.*
I didn't blink. I didn't look down at my hands.
May you like
Beside me, Arthur Byrne leaned over and whispered, “Now we go to the bank, Paige. Before Uncle Robert finishes the bail paperwork, we cut the cables.”
***
