Chapter 77

Chapter 77
Gio POV: 

Today, the D.A. had his shot at Domenico. I hoped he gave it everything he had because from where we stood, it looked like the weasel was winning over the jury.

She had pulled herself together from her desolate state last night. She got up and put on a simple dress and shoes, pulling her hair up into a bun. Her face hard as stone as she sat beside me, to everyone else, she looked calm. To me, though I knew that when she looked entirely unbothered in a situation most people would be losing their minds about, she was a storm raging in her head. One hand placed in mine for comfort and support, eyes locked on the back of her father's head as we waited for today’s song and dance routine. 

She was beginning to think he was going to get away with it, but I couldn’t even think about that. If the thought entered my mind, I’d probably slam his head through the witness stand.  

I thought about it for a second, She’d visit me in prison, right? I sighed, letting the thought of ending this right here and now go. I wouldn't do that to her. 

How easy it would be, though, he was right here out in the open, unarmed, undefended, alone. If I truly wanted him gone, this was my best shot, I could put a bullet right between his eyes. Who could blame me? 

I felt my father reach across the ocean to whisper these thoughts in my head. Telling me once more that the only way this ends is with someone in a shallow grave. 

Caputo buttoned his jacket as he made his way towards the stand, smiling to the jury as he went and nodding to the judge respectfully. The perfect act, who could ever blame such a humble and upstanding citizen for these heinous crimes? 

He got up to the podium and swore to tell the truth, lying as he did so before taking his seat. The D.A.  adjusted his tie before strolling up to the stand. 

“Mr. Caputo, you claim that you have no  idea about the tax evasion and that it was your employees pocketing the money, correct?” 

“Yes,” 

“Then why are there photos of you at the bank?” The D.A. pointed towards a TV screen where photos of Domenico arriving at the Swiss bank appeared one after the other. 

Photographic undeniable proof laid out before the jury, he’d been there, he’d known. He wasn’t innocent, he was the biggest con man to ever walk the earth. 

“I knew about the account, yes,” Caputo said. 

I wanted to scream from the mountain tops, a confession. See, he knew, he knew about the account, and he didn’t give the government their share, in America, that was a death sentence, put the man away. 

“And you failed to report this money to the Internal Revenue Service?” The D.A. went further. 

“No,” Caputo responded calmly. 

I gritted my teeth, it was unnerving the ease with which this man could lie. He could slap you in the face, turn around, and say you did it yourself, and he could make them all believe it, too. 

“You went and  failed to report this on your income taxes, even though we have your taxes for the last ten years here, and no foreign account has been provided?” The D.A. showed the records as well. 

“I didn’t file my taxes, I used a service, it was unknown to me that the money wasn’t reported.” The man truly was gifted. He didn’t show an ounce of concern on his face, I wondered if he’d pass a lie detector. Mosley’s precious F.B.I. should study Caputo so he can teach them how to do their jobs. 

“You had no clue that this wasn’t being reported? That millions of dollars in your name and your earring were being reported? How did you assume your taxes were so low?” 

Caputo shrugged. “I assumed my tax preparer was good at his job,” he shrugged and smiled that confident cocky grin. 

He had done this many times already, gotten on the stand and used his charisma to put himself back on the streets. I had foolishly thought the terror he had recently unleashed upon his peers was enough to convict him, but now I wasn’t so sure. 

The D.A., for all his worth, didn’t falter, doing his best to poke holes in Domenico's story. How could he have been blind to so much? How could he have missed this? he must have known something was wrong. All the while, Domenico evaded every question and continued to lie through his teeth. 

I turned to watch her, she was his daughter, for she looked as though she was happy with the way things were going. I’m sure my face was as sour as a lemon with the way the jury hid their laughter at his jokes, and bobbed their heads in empathy. 

She would take the stand tomorrow, I doubted it would be easy. Her father's lawyer would make this personal in an attempt to rile her up and make her look cruel. The D.A. could only stick to questions about the crimes at hand, so anything else she may have seen would be thrown out. 

She could do this, though I only wished I could be beside her as she faced this dragon down. I thought for a second that there must be some way to let her know she wouldn’t be alone up there. 

An idea formed in my head and I waited until we were let out for the day, my smile shining n and bright instead of the downtrodden, beaten expression she held as she braced for the rain outside. 

“At least one of us is happy,” she mumbled, resting her head on my chest as we waited for the car. 

I held her to my chest, seeing our black SUV pull up as we headed outside, a swarm of camera crews and photographers descending on us. 

“Do you think your father is innocent?” 

“Do you feel safe if he gets out?” 

“How do you live with yourself sleeping with your father's enemy?” 

“Did you plant the evidence?” 

They asked their insane question, trying to make her crack, but she marched on ahead, not giving them the time of day. I held them back from her, holding her tightly to me.

Don’t worry, I thought as we got to the car, I’m always here. 

We got into the car, and instead of the house, I ordered the driver to take us into the city. She poured for a moment, turning to me as I got into the back seat behind her. 

“I need to prepare for my statements tomorrow, please, I don’t have the willpower to eat out tonight, I just can’t,” she begged, her hand on my chest, resting the top of her head against it as he looked down. 

No, I wouldn’t force her to eat dinner in front of a crowd as they whispered about our sordid life. 

“Do not worry,” I commanded. “We might get takeout out but I’m not thinking about food right now.” Again, a smile shone on my face as we headed towards my evil plan. 

Pulling up outside. 

“A jewelry store?” She raised a brow towards me. 

“You still haven’t picked out a ring.”