"We, the jury, find the defendant Luca Romano... not guilty."
All four acquitted on racketeering conspiracy. The foundation of the government's case. The charge that should have been easiest to prove with eight months of recorded conversations.
Not guilty.
But there were more counts. Dozens more. The clerk kept reading.
"Count Two: Money Laundering Conspiracy. We, the jury, find the defendant Sandro Vitale... not guilty."
Again for all four defendants. Not guilty.
"Count Three: Extortion under color of official right. We, the jury, find the defendant Sandro Vitale... not guilty."
Not guilty on all four defendants.
It continued. Count after count. The serious charges—the ones carrying twenty years or more. Acquittal after acquittal.
The evidence that had seemed overwhelming apparently left reasonable doubt. The surveillance warrants Diana had challenged created just enough questions. Vincent's credibility issues—the embezzlement, the immunity deal—had mattered after all.
Walsh looked shell-shocked at the prosecution table. Her carefully constructed case crumbling count by count.
But then:
"Count Eighteen: Operating an Illegal Gambling Operation. We, the jury, find the defendant Sandro Vitale... guilty."
My stomach dropped. But it was a minor charge. Five years maximum. Nothing compared to racketeering.
All four defendants: guilty on Count Eighteen.
"Count Twenty-Three: Tax Evasion. We, the jury, find the defendant Sandro Vitale... guilty."
Again, all four defendants: guilty.
Minor charges. White collar offenses. The kind that resulted in fines and probation for first-time federal offenders with excellent lawyers.
The clerk continued through all twenty-six counts. When it was finally over, the pattern was clear: acquitted on every serious charge. Convicted only on minor offenses that carried minimal sentences.
Judge Morrison addressed the jury. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your service. You are dismissed with the gratitude of the court." Then to the defendants: "Sentencing is scheduled for two weeks from today. Given the nature of the offenses and your lack of prior federal convictions, I'm inclined toward probation and substantial fines, but I'll hear arguments from both sides at that time. Court is adjourned."
The gavel fell.
It was over.
They'd won.
I watched Matteo's shoulders drop like someone had cut the strings holding him upright. Watched Sandro close his eyes and exhale for what seemed like the first time in months. Watched Elio lean heavily on the table like his legs might give out. Watched Luca put his face in his hands.
They weren't going to prison. They got to keep their lives. Their freedom. Their futures.
Matteo and I got to keep each other.
The courtroom descended into controlled chaos. Media scrambling for quotes. Prosecutors gathering their materialswith the careful neutrality of people trying not to show devastation. Walsh's face was pale, her mouth tight. She'd lost. Publicly. Spectacularly.
Diana Martinez maintained professional composure even in victory, but I could see the satisfaction in her eyes. This was what she did. This was why she was the best. She'd taken a case that looked unwinnable and found reasonable doubt in the mountain of evidence.
I made my way through the crowd to the barrier separating the gallery from the defense table. Security guards were trying to maintain order but I pushed through.
Matteo saw me coming. Didn't hesitate. Pulled me over the barrier and into his arms right there in the federal courthouse.
