Chapter 9: What Justice Looked Like
The trial date was set for eleven weeks after Raul's arrest.
It did not go to trial.
Three weeks before the scheduled date, Raul's attorney contacted Marsh with a proposal.
Raul would plead guilty to four of the seven counts.
Full cooperation with the investigation into the remaining shell companies.
Full restitution to the identified victims, structured over five years.
In exchange, a reduced sentence — eighteen months, with eligibility for early release after twelve.
Marsh called me the morning the proposal came through.
"It's your call," he said.
"You're not the only victim, but your medical documentation is the centerpiece of the domestic case.
If you want to push for trial, we push."
"What do the other families want?" I said.
"Two of them want restitution more than prison time.
One wants trial.
The others haven't said."
I thought about the kitchen floor.
I thought about Raul in his chair, wet-eyed, reaching out one uncertain hand.
"Will the restitution actually happen?" I said.
"Or is this a delay tactic?"
"His remaining assets are frozen.
The house transfer already went through — that's yours regardless.
What's left is enough to cover restitution if it's managed properly.
We'd have oversight built into the agreement."
"And the domestic charges?"
"Those are separate.
The plea doesn't cover those.
Victor and Helena face those independently."
"What about Victor?"
Marsh paused.
"Victor's attorney submitted a cooperation statement two days ago.
He's providing full testimony about the document signings — confirms he didn't know the nature of what he was signing.
Nora's footage corroborates his account.
The DA is likely to accept it."
I sat with that.
Victor, cooperating.
Nora, cooperating.
Raul, pleading guilty.
The family that had spent three years making me feel like I had no one had, in the end, dismantled itself.
"Accept the plea," I said.
"On the financial counts.
But I want the domestic case to go forward.
Helena and Victor need to face what happened in that kitchen."
"Understood," Marsh said.
"I'll communicate that."
The domestic case was heard six weeks later.
It was not a long hearing.
Nora's footage was entered into evidence.
Dr.
Vasic's report was entered into evidence.
Helena's attorney argued mitigating circumstances.
The judge listened, then sentenced Helena to two years' probation, a mandatory counseling program, and a formal restraining order keeping her from any contact with me or my daughter.
Victor stood before the same judge and said, without prompting from his attorney, that he had no excuse.
That he understood what he had done.
That he would not ask for leniency on the basis of his father's influence over him, because that influence did not remove his own responsibility.
The judge sentenced him to eighteen months of supervised probation, mandatory intervention program, and a restraining order identical to Helena's.
He did not look at me when he said it.
He looked at the floor.
I sat in the gallery and watched it happen.
Gregor was beside me.
He said nothing.
He didn't need to.
When it was over, I walked out of the courthouse into pale winter sunlight.
The steps were cold.
My breath made small clouds in the air.
Marsh shook my hand at the bottom of the steps.
"It's done," he said.
"Thank you," I said.
"You did the hard part," he said.
"You sent the message."
He walked away.
Gregor stood beside me.
"What now?" he said.
I looked down the street.
Ordinary city.
Ordinary afternoon.
A bus pulling away from the curb.
A woman pushing a stroller.
A man reading something on his phone, walking slowly, not going anywhere in particular.
"I need to decide about the house," I said.
"Take your time."
"I think I want to sell it." I paused.
"I don't want to live there.
But the money—" I thought about the families Raul had taken from.
Two of them had lost their homes.
"Is there a way to direct some of it toward the restitution fund?
To make it move faster?"
Gregor looked at me.
"Yes," he said.
"There is."
"Then that's what I want to do."
He nodded once.
Not surprised.
Not sentimental about it.
May you like
Just: yes, we can do that, we will do that.
That was enough.
