Chapter 7 - The Verdict and Sentences
The jury deliberated for less than two hours—one of the fastest deliberations in the county's legal history.
When the jury returned to the courtroom on Friday afternoon, the atmosphere was suffocatingly tense. Everyone stood as Judge Raymond took his seat on the bench.
"Has the jury reached a verdict?" Judge Raymond asked.
"We have, Your Honor," the foreperson, a stern-looking woman in her fifties, replied, handing a sheet of paper to the bailiff.
The judge read the paper silently, nodded, and handed it back. "The defendants will stand and face the jury."
Warren and Elaine stood up. Warren's hands were shaking so violently that his defense attorney had to hold his arm to keep him steady.
"On Count One, Attempted First-Degree Murder of a Minor, how do you find the defendant, Warren Holloway?"
"Guilty," the foreperson declared clearly.
"On Count Two, Aggravated Child Abuse and Endangerment, how do you find the defendant, Warren Holloway?"
"Guilty."
"On Count Three, Tampering with Physical Evidence, how do you find the defendant, Warren Holloway?"
"Guilty."
The foreperson then read the identical verdicts for Elaine Holloway: Guilty on all counts.
Elaine collapsed back into her chair, covering her face as a quiet sob finally broke through her cold facade. Warren stood frozen, his eyes wide with disbelief as if he genuinely could not process that his status and money could not protect him from justice.
Three weeks later, the sentencing hearing took place.
Judge Raymond sat behind his elevated desk, looking down at Warren and Elaine with righteous indignation.
"In my thirty years on the bench," Judge Raymond said, his voice ringing through the court, "I have seen many acts of violence and neglect. But rarely have I witnessed such a cold, calculating, and utter lack of human compassion as displayed by the defendants in this room. You poisoned a helpless two-year-old child—your own granddaughter—and discarded her in a trash bin in the middle of winter to preserve your vanity and social standing."
The judge leaned forward.
"Warren Holloway, for the charge of Attempted First-Degree Murder, I sentence you to thirty-five years in state penitentiary without the possibility of parole. For the additional counts, I add fifteen consecutive years. You will spend the rest of your natural life in prison."
Warren closed his eyes tightly as the bailiffs stepped forward to lock heavy iron chains around his waist and ankles.
"Elaine Holloway," Judge Raymond continued, "for your central role in planning and executing this horrific crime, I sentence you to thirty-five years in state penitentiary without the possibility of parole."
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As the officers led them away in chains, Elaine turned her head to look at me one last time. Her eyes were filled with tears of self-pity, silently begging for forgiveness or mercy.
I did not glare back with anger. I did not smile in triumph. I simply held Lucas's hand, took a deep, clear breath of freedom, and turned my back on her forever.
