Chapter 8 - THE VERDICT
Julian took a plea deal before trial on several counts.
But one major fraud charge went before a jury because prosecutors wanted accountability for the acquisition scheme.
I testified.
Julian sat twenty feet away.
He looked older.
No tailored confidence.
No executive army.
Just a man in a suit.
The prosecutor asked about my father's trust.
The shell companies.
The forged approvals.
Defense counsel tried to make the case about a bitter divorce.
Expected.
“Mrs. Hale, you discovered your husband's affair shortly before initiating these actions?”
“Yes.”
“And you were angry?”
“Yes.”
“Humiliated?”
“Yes.”
“So you wanted revenge.”
I looked at the jury.
“I wanted a divorce.”
Then back at him.
“The accounting records wanted the rest.”
A juror almost smiled.
The documents were overwhelming.
Julian was convicted.
I didn't attend sentencing.
I didn't need to.
Rebecca called afterward.
Years in federal custody.
Restitution.
Financial penalties.
Executive bans.
Done.
“Do you feel better?” she asked.
I thought.
“No.”
“Worse?”
“No.”
“What then?”
“Finished.”
That was better than victory.
Victoria later sent me a letter.
Handwritten.
She described therapy.
Community service.
Losing her career.
Losing friends.
She didn't ask forgiveness.
Good.
At the bottom she wrote:
I spent years believing powerful men made women powerful by choosing them. I understand now how dangerous that belief was.
I folded the letter.
Put it away.
Forgiveness did not require friendship.
Sometimes forgiveness simply meant refusing to carry another person's ugliness longer than necessary.
I eventually reached that place.
May you like
Not for Victoria.
For myself.
