Judge Vance’s gavel slipped from his clammy fingers and clattered onto the floor. His face drained of all color, turning a sickly, translucent white.
"This... this is a state court," Vance stammered, his arrogant bravado instantly disintegrating into pure terror. "You have no jurisdiction here..."
"I have been sitting in that back row for three days," David Sterling interrupted, his eyes locked onto the corrupt judge like a predator. "I have documented every civil rights violation. Every dismissed piece of exculpatory evidence. Every racial slur you muttered under your breath when you thought the microphones were off."
David turned to the stunned court reporter. "Let the record show that the Department of Justice has been investigating Judge Arthur Vance for six months for systemic judicial corruption and civil rights abuses. We have your private emails, Arthur. We have the bank records showing the kickbacks you took for filling private prison beds."
The courtroom was so quiet you could hear the fluorescent lights buzzing. Marcus stared at his father, his jaw trembling, his tears frozen on his cheeks. He hadn't told his dad about the arrest because he thought he'd be ashamed. He never realized his father would rain down hellfire to protect him.
"As of 9:00 AM this morning," David Sterling continued, turning back to the terrified judge, "a federal grand jury indicted you on twenty-two counts of judicial misconduct, obstruction of justice, and civil rights violations."
Before Vance could even open his mouth to gasp, the heavy oak doors at the back of the courtroom swung open again.
Four men in dark suits with FBI windbreakers walked in in perfect synchronization. They didn't pause. They marched straight past the gallery, past the jury box, and stepped right up to the judge's bench.
"Arthur Vance," the lead agent said, pulling a pair of heavy steel handcuffs from his belt. "You are under arrest for federal corruption. Step down from the bench."