Grand Courtroom St. Lucia High Court
Grand Courtroom
St. Lucia High Court
Nine Months Later
The NBC reporter stood in front of the camera, microphone in hand and the high court of St. Lucia framed behind her. The cameraman counted down, “Three, two, one.” He pointed at her.
“We’ve just received word that the jury is back in the Grace Sebold case.
It’s been a long nine months for Julian Crist’s family as they’ve sought justice for their son, who was killed here in St. Lucia back in March.
A fourth-year student at New York Medical College, Julian Crist’s body was found on the morning of March thirtieth having washed up on the famed Sugar Beach, where he and classmates had gathered over spring break to celebrate a friend’s wedding.
Originally believing it to be an accidental fall from one of St. Lucia’s legendary Twin Pitons, detectives quickly began to suspect foul play.
Just two days into the investigation, Crist’s fellow medical student and girlfriend, Grace Sebold, was taken into St. Lucian custody and charged with Julian’s murder.
An intense, and sometimes wild, trial followed in St. Lucia’s High Court.
Today, Grace Sebold’s fate will be determined by a group of twelve jurors. ”
The reporter put her finger to her ear. “The jury, I’m being told, is returning. We’re going to take you inside the courthouse for the verdict.”
The production crew cut to the inside of the courthouse, which was crowded with spectators lining the pews like a busy Sunday church service.
Reporters and cameramen from CNN, the BBC, and FOX News crowded along the back wall.
The jury members shuffled into their spots, and the chamber buzzed with a silent trepidation that was broken occasionally by the snapping of cameras, their shutters opening and closing as photographers attempted to capture every gesture and facial expression.
Through the stillness, a side door rattled open and a constable led Grace Sebold into the courtroom.
The press was frenzied as they jockeyed for position to steal the best photo of the enigmatic Grace Sebold, described over the past three months as a combination of a brilliant future physician and ruthless murderer.
The constable led Grace to her counsel, who was seated at a table in front of the judge. The lawyer stood when Grace arrived and whispered into her ear. Grace gave a subtle nod. The magistrate brought the high court to order with three booming raps of his gavel.
“This is St. Lucia’s High Court, Southern District, presiding over the case of St. Lucia versus Grace Sebold.” He looked to the jury. “Foreman, have you come to a unanimous decision in this case?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” the middle-aged man said, holding a thin folder.
The constable took the folder from the foreman and handed it to the judge, who placed it on the surface in front of him. His facial expression gave nothing away as he opened the file and silently read the verdict, then looked out at the crowded room.
“I would ask all who are present this morning to respect the high court by refraining from emotional reactions after I’ve read this verdict. I further ask the press to remain in the media section and to please cross none of the barriers that have been constructed.”
The judge looked down at the verdict, paused briefly before setting his gaze on Grace Sebold.
“Ms. Sebold, please stand.”
Grace stood, her chair piercing the silence of the courtroom with an awful screech as it slid across the tiled floor.
“In the case of St. Lucia versus Grace Sebold,” the judge said, “on the count of first-degree homicide, the jury finds the defendant. . . guilty.” A murmur went through the courthouse, a combination of applause from Julian Crist’s family and supporters to weeping and gasps from Grace Sebold’s parents.
“By order of the high court, Grace Janice Sebold, you have been found guilty of murder in the first degree and will be held at the Bordelais Correctional Facility to await sentencing. Ms. Sebold, do you fully understand the charges levied against you and the potential penalties for being held accountable for said charges?”
Grace mumbled a nearly inaudible yes.
“Would you like to address the court or the jurors, as is your right?”
Grace shook her head and mumbled again. No.
The judge rapped the gavel three more times as Grace Sebold’s attorney tried to support her.
The weight of her limp body overwhelmed him, and he settled her onto the hard wooden chair that had broken the silence of the courtroom moments before.
The constable was quickly at her side, lifting her under her arm to usher her back to jail.
Despite the judge’s continual gavel banging, reporters shouted questions as Grace left the courtroom.
“Did you do it, Grace?”
“Are you guilty?”
“Will you appeal this decision, Grace?”
“Are you remorseful for what you’ve done?”
“Do you want to say anything to Julian’s family?”
One particularly adamant reporter made his way to the front of the barrier, leaned over the mahogany railing to get as close to the side door as was possible. The constable shuffled Grace toward the open doorway.
“Grace!” the reporter said in an urgency that caught her attention and made Grace glance at him. When their eyes met, the reporter shoved his microphone over the barrier, cutting the distance between him and Grace to an impressive twelve inches.
“Why did you kill Julian?”
Grace blinked at the bluntness of the reporter’s question. The constable swatted the microphone away and pushed Grace through the side door, leaving the shouting reporters and their clicking cameras behind.