“We are here for the entry of a plea in the matter of the United States versus Adrian DeLuca,” the judge said.

Her voice was crisp and echoed off the high ceiling.

Adrian stood at the podium with his defense attorney.

The attorney looked uncomfortable, fidgeting with a stack of papers.

“Mr. DeLuca,” the judge said, looking down over her glasses. “I have received a signed plea agreement.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Adrian said.

His voice was clear and firm, carrying no hesitation.

“You understand that by pleading guilty, you waive your right to a trial by jury?” the judge asked.

“I do,” Adrian said.

“You understand the charges against you carry a mandatory minimum of thirty years?”

“I do, Your Honor,” Adrian said.

The prosecutor stood and began reading the factual basis for the plea.

It was a long, brutal list of crimes.

Racketeering, conspiracy, extortion, interstate transport of stolen goods.

Every word sounded like a heavy stone falling into a deep well.

With each accusation, the prosecutor detailed how Adrian had authorized the actions.

Adrian stood perfectly still, his eyes fixed on the mahogany wood of the podium.