Page 71 of Prince of Vice

He looks at the document, his brows furrowing as he starts to catch on with where this is going. “Seventeen minutes," he responds curtly.

"And the week before that?"

"Twenty-three minutes," he says.

"Other than the night in question, has there ever been an entry for longer than one hour, Mr. Maldonado?" I ask, turning again to the jury.

"No," he replies.

"Is the prison in the practice of allowing visitors to stay for four hours?" I ask incredulously.

"I couldn't say," he replies, irritation coating his voice. "I'm not in charge at the prison."

"No, I suppose not," I reply.

"Can you tell the jury why, on the night of the murder, your visit was so much longer with your father?"

"As I said," he replies, staring me down, "I guess we had a lot to talk about that night."

"Is it possible, Mr. Maldonado," I ask, my voice dripping with implication, "that you cannot account for this inconsistency because you – conspiring with your father, no less – orchestrated this entire setup for your brother?"

He opens his mouth to respond, but I press on relentlessly, a tidal wave of questions crashing down upon him. "And is it not true that Primo did not kill Beau Bennett, but in fact, it was you who pulled the trigger?"

Constantino's face pales as he stumbles over his words, the mask of composure slipping away before our very eyes. Silence stretches taut between us, and I know I have him.

“Please listen carefully, Mr. Maldonado, and tell me if the events as I outline them are consistent with your recollection. Following your father’s guilty verdict, control over the family business fell to Primo, his first born son. But, that didn’t sit well with you. And, neither did it sit well with your father, with whom you’ve always had a closer relationship than Primo. So, you both needed a way to get Primo out of the way so that you could take over.

“Axe Michelson created a perfect opportunity for your father to lay a trap. He asked Axe to lure Primo to Miami to handle a business meeting. Primo, suspecting that this agent had double crossed him, was prepared. Someone tipped the police off to the meeting and the police showed up and everyone scatters.

“Primo escaped your trap, so you need to lay another. The feds showing up in Miami gave you the perfect excuse. You started to conspire with Beau Bennett and word is passed to Primo that Axe has gone rogue and is working with the feds. A meeting at a safehouse is set up to take out Axe. You, quite conveniently, are in a four hour meeting at the prison, so you could not possibly be at the safehouse, where you expect Axe to be killed.

“But, Axe isn’t killed. He escapes, and this time he really does go to the feds. Angry over the second failure, you decide that you need a body that you can pin on Primo. Beau Bennett was your victim, wasn’t he Mr. Maldonado? He trusted you, so you were able to pull the trigger at close range, because he never suspected it would come from you.

“An anonymous tip was given to the police, Primo’s DNA, which you have easy access to given that you live in the same residence, was found at the crime scene, and away he goes, in the back of the squad car. Did I get it right, Mr. Maldonado?”

“I invoke the protections of the Fifth Amendment, and decline to answer your question, Ms. Moretti,” Constantino says with ice in his eyes.

Turning to the judge, I announce, “No further questions.”

I return to my seat next to Primo, feeling like I've just stepped off a roller coaster. His hand finds mine under the table, squeezing gently in reassurance. It's been ages since we've had any meaningful interaction, but this small gesture fills me with renewed hope and strength.

As closing arguments begin, the prosecution once again paints a picture of a cruel and heartless man, attempting one last time to sway the jury against Primo. When they finish, I rise once more, ready to speak from my heart.

"Members of the jury," I address them earnestly, "the prosecution is trying to put Primo Maldonado on trial for who he is, rather than what he's done. But we are here today because he stands accused of killing Beau Bennett – a crime for which the evidence clearly shows he has been wrongly framed by his own family." My voice swells with passion as I implore them to see past the smoke and mirrors, to find the truth buried beneath the lies.

I look at each juror in turn, my gaze steady, as I make my final plea. "I implore you to see through the smokescreen the federal agents have cast over this case, obscuring crucial facts from your view. Consider how they have manipulated the truth to serve their agenda, ignoring the inconsistencies and glaring omissions in their presentation.

"Ask yourselves," I continue passionately, "if there remains even a shred of doubt in your minds that Primo was not the one to pull the trigger, can you honestly sentence him to a life behind bars for a crime he did not commit?"

The room is heavy with anticipation, an electric charge buzzing in the air as I finish speaking. It feels as though the eyes of every person present are boring into me, but my focus remains solely on the jury, hoping beyond hope that my words have struck a chord.

I make my final plea and return to my seat, my pulse in overdrive.

"Very well, Counselors," Judge Dolan replies, giving a firm nod. "Court is adjourned for the day. The jury will begin deliberations tomorrow morning. Everyone is dismissed."

As I gather my papers and close my briefcase, my heart races in my chest, a wild symphony of hope and fear. Primo places a hand on my shoulder, his touch warm and reassuring despite the world bearing down on him. I can see it in his eyes, that flicker of gratitude and admiration.

"Thank you, Isabella," he murmurs softly before leaving the courtroom under heavy guard.

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