When the foreman stood and read the verdicts, guilty on all counts, including the severest charge of deprivation of civil rights under color of law, Jenkins didn't even flinch. He was completely numb, his spirit thoroughly crushed beneath the relentless, crushing weight of the legal system he had once manipulated for his own amusement. Sentencing day arrived beneath a bleak, overcast sky. The gallery was no longer filled just with reporters. Valerie had personally ensured the front two rows were reserved for the citizens Jenkins had falsely arrested over the past decade.
The Brady list victims. Dozens of men and women whose lives had been derailed by Jenkins' lies sat in silent, dignified judgment. Judge Caldwell looked down from the bench, his expression etched with profound disgust. "Bradley Jenkins. " Caldwell's voice filled the room, heavy with righteous anger. "You were entrusted with a badge and a gun.
You were given the power of the state to protect the vulnerable. Instead, you acted as a tyrant. You terrorized the citizens you were sworn to serve, hiding behind a blue wall of silence that this court has finally torn down. Jenkins stood beside his lawyer, trembling slightly, his eyes glued to the floor. The irony is not lost on this court, Caldwell continued.
You believed you were untouchable because you targeted those you thought had no voice. You made the catastrophic error of targeting the one woman who possessed the power to expose your entire rotting ecosystem. This was not a mistake. It was an inevitability. The judge adjusted his glasses.
For the crimes of aggravated assault, false imprisonment, and official misconduct, I sentence you to 12 years in the state penitentiary. Furthermore, because you violated the civil rights of Ms. Thompson under the color of law, this sentence will run consecutively with the federal sentencing guidelines currently being prepared by the Department of Justice. 12 years, hard time, no possibility of parole for at least 10. A heavy, definitive silence hung in the room before the bailiffs moved in, clamping the heavy iron shackles around Jenkins' wrists and ankles.
The clinking of the chains was the only sound as they turned him around to lead him out. As he shuffled toward the side door, Jenkins' eyes met Valerie's in the gallery. She didn't gloat. She didn't smile. She simply looked right through him, treating him with the exact same dismissive insignificance he had shown her on that sidewalk six months ago.
He was no longer a threat. He was just a convicted felon. But Valerie's work was far from over. Jenkins conviction was merely the spark that ignited a massive cleansing fire through the city's justice system. Back in her sprawling corner office at the District Attorney's headquarters, Valerie stood looking out over the city skyline.