Chapter 12 - The Federal Detention Center Visit
Three days after the boardroom takeover, I sat in the sterile, fluorescent-lit visitor booth of the Manhattan Federal Detention Center.
The heavy metal door clicked open, and two guards led Richard into the booth in a coarse orange jumpsuit and steel leg irons.
He looked completely broken, his expensive hair unwashed, his skin pale and sunken from days of panic and withdrawal.
He sat down heavily on the metal stool, picking up the heavy telephone receiver with trembling, handcuffed fingers.
I picked up my receiver on the other side of the thick glass, looking at him with absolute, detached indifference.
“Ava… please… you have to drop the federal charges,” Richard wept through the speaker grill, his voice pathetic and cracked.
“My mother had a stroke in the county medical ward yesterday! We have nothing left!”
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“You had fifty million dollars, a multi-million-dollar estate, and a family that loved you,” I replied calmly, my voice steady.
“You chose arrogance, cruelty, and abuse instead. Now you get to experience the consequences of your own destruction.”
