Chapter 4 - The Court of Public Opinion
By noon the following day, the thirty-second video clip of Khloe falling down the courthouse steps had been viewed over forty million times worldwide.
The video was terrifyingly clear.
It showed Khloe standing near the top landing, her hands raised defensively, her voice pleading. It showed Vanessa stepping forward aggressively, reaching out, and then Khloe tumbling backward down the stone steps while Richard stood motionless beside his mistress, making no effort to catch his pregnant wife.
Public fury exploded across the city.
Protesters gathered outside the glass headquarters of Harrington Commercial Group holding signs reading JUSTICE FOR KHLOE and LOCK UP RICHARD AND VANESSA.
Inside his penthouse suite, Richard Harrington paced furiously across the plush carpet, a glass of scotch shaking in his hand.
"They canceled the bank line, Vanessa!" Richard screamed, throwing his glass against the floor, shattering it against the white marble hearth. "The city revoked our building permits for Grandview! My investors are demanding an emergency buyout!"
Vanessa sat huddled on the velvet sofa, her eyes swollen from crying, her phone buzzing continuously with death threats and media calls.
"It was an accident, Richard!" she sobbed. "I didn't mean to push her! She stepped backward! You saw it!"
"The video doesn't look like an accident!" Richard shouted, pacing back and forth like a trapped animal. "And Harrison Cole is controlling the narrative! He’s freezing our accounts! My credit cards were declined ten minutes ago at the pharmacy!"
The heavy mahogany doors of the penthouse burst open.
Four uniformed officers from the Montgomery County Sheriff's Department walked into the living room, led by a detective holding an arrest warrant.
"Richard Harrington and Vanessa Kensington?" Detective Miller said calmly. "You are both under arrest for aggravated assault, reckless endangerment, and attempted manslaughter. Hands behind your backs."
As the steel handcuffs clicked around Richard’s wrists, he caught a glimpse of his television screen mounted on the wall.
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Harrison Cole was standing on the steps of Philadelphia General Hospital, speaking live to a wall of reporters.
"My sister remains in critical condition," Harrison was saying into the microphones, his face stern and unyielding. "My niece is fighting for her life in the NICU. To those who believe wealth and influence can buy immunity in this state—prepare yourselves. Justice is coming."
