Chapter 6: Ellis Fights Back
Three weeks after the arrest, Ellis made bail.
I found out from Diane, who called me on a Tuesday morning with a warning in her voice before she even said hello.
"He's out," she said.
"Two-million-dollar bond.
His brother co-signed."
"Can he contact me?"
"There's a no-contact order covering you and Noah.
If he violates it, he goes back in immediately." A pause.
"But Sabrina, I want you to be careful.
He's angry, and he has resources we haven't fully mapped yet."
I thanked her and sat with that information for an hour.
He was out.
Of course he was.
Men like Ellis didn't stay in holding rooms.
They made calls.
They had brothers with money and attorneys with strategies.
The first move came four days later — not from Ellis, but from his attorney.
A letter arrived at my apartment, hand-delivered by a courier.
I stood in the doorway and read it.
Ellis was filing a motion to have Noah's testimony and cooperation with federal investigators declared inadmissible on the grounds that Noah had been a minor acting without parental consent or legal guardianship oversight.
The motion argued that any evidence Noah had provided, including the hard drive location data, had been obtained through the improper use of a minor and should be suppressed.
I called Diane immediately.
"I've already seen it," she said.
"His attorney filed this morning."
"Can they do that?
Can they actually suppress Noah's evidence?"
"They can try.
Judges have wide discretion in cases involving minor witnesses.
It's not a guaranteed win for them, but it's not nothing either." Her voice was measured.
"We're filing a response by end of week.
Noah's cooperation was voluntary, documented, and he was never coerced or placed in danger by our team."
"He placed himself in danger," I said.
"Yes.
And that distinction matters.
His choice.
His initiative.
Our role was responsive, not directive." She paused.
"But Sabrina, I won't pretend this doesn't complicate things."
That evening, my phone rang from a number I didn't recognize.
Columbus area code.
I answered.
"Sabrina." Ellis's voice.
Calm.
Almost warm.
I went very still.
"You're violating the no-contact order," I said.
"I'm calling from a colleague's phone.
The order specifies my personal devices." A small pause.
"I'm not here to fight.
I want to talk."
"There is nothing to talk about."
"There is six million dollars to talk about." His voice didn't change.
"That money is in an account you control, Sabrina.
It's tied to a trust I established for my son.
My attorneys believe we have a strong civil claim to recover it regardless of how the crjminal case proceeds."
"Your attorneys can speak to my attorney."
"I don't think you have one yet," he said.
"I think you're sitting in that apartment trying to figure out what comes next.
And I think you're smart enough to know that a federal crjminal case takes years.
Years of uncertainty.
Years of Noah being pulled in and out of depositions and hearings." He let that sit for a moment.
"I'm offering you a way out of all of that."
"What way out?"
"Return the six million.
Sign a document confirming it was transferred in error.
Walk away.
I'll drop the civil claim, I'll stop the motion to suppress Noah's cooperation, and I'll agree to a joint custody arrangement that lets Noah come back to you."
I stood at my kitchen window looking at the alley.
"You're offering me my son," I said slowly, "in exchange for destroying the case against you."
"I'm offering you peace," he said.
"You were never supposed to be part of this, Sabrina.
You were supposed to take the two hundred thousand and start over.
This got complicated because Noah is too smart for his own good." A pause.
"He gets that from you, actually."
"Don't," I said.
"Think about it.
A few more days won't change anything.
But after that—" He stopped.
"After that, my attorneys move forward on every front simultaneously.
The civil claim, the suppression motion, a custody modification filing.
I will make the next two years of your life very difficult."
"You already made the last fifteen years of my life very difficult," I said.
"I survived those too."
Silence.
"You're making a mistake," he said.
"I'm going to hang up now and call Diane Rourke," I said.
"And I'm going to tell her you violated the no-contact order from a third-party phone.
Have a good evening, Ellis."
I hung up.
My hands were shaking, but I dialed Diane before they could stop.
She answered on the second ring.
"He called me," I said.
"From someone else's number.
He offered to drop everything if I return the money and sign a document saying it was transferred in error."
A pause.
"He offered you a deal."
"He threatened me first.
Then offered the deal."
"Did he say anything about the suppression motion?"
"He said he'd drop it if I cooperated."
Another pause, longer this time.
"Sabrina," Diane said, "I need you to write down everything he said, as close to word for word as you can remember, and send it to me tonight."
"Is this good for the case?"
"A defendant in federal custody on bail, violating a no-contact order to offer the primary witness's mother a deal to suppress evidence?" She let out a slow breath.
"Yes.
This is very good for the case."
I wrote it all down.
Every word I could remember.
I sent it to Diane at 10:47 that night.
At 7:15 the next morning, she called back.
"His bail conditions have been reviewed," she said.
"The judge is not happy.
He has until Friday to appear and explain the contact or his bail is revoked."
I poured my coffee and looked out the window.
"He thought I had nothing left to lose," I said.
"He was wrong about that," Diane said.
May you like
"He's been wrong about me for fifteen years," I said.
"He just never noticed."
