Julian: This isn't the end of the story. I own the appellate judges in this district.
Marshal Miller: Appellate judges don't review federal racketeering charges, Mr. Vance.
Julian: Racketeering? You're exaggerating a standard business acquisition!
Marshal Miller: Forging deeds and shoving elderly ranchers into glass towers goes a bit beyond standard business.
Victoria: Let him keep talking, Marshal. Every word he says is going straight into the court transcript.
Julian: You're all part of a conspiracy to steal my corporate portfolio!
Victoria: Portfolio? You mean the empty shell corporation funded by stolen pension money?
Julian: That pension fund was legally acquired through a high-yield merger!
Victoria: A merger that never actually existed outside of your forged Microsoft Word documents.
The injured man's hand, wearing a watch and a ring, lies open on the glass-strewn floor.
A low-pitched tension swell vibrated through the room as the heavy black dress shoes paused directly beside his outstretched fingers.
Julian: What are you doing? Don't you dare step closer to me!
Marshal Miller: You resisted lawful detention, Mr. Vance.
Julian: I'm injured! I have a broken collarbone and glass embedded in my palms!
Victoria: You should have thought about your health before you attacked my father.
A black shoe steps down hard directly onto the injured man's hand.
A heavy step and a sickening crunch echoed through the silent ballroom as the heel pressed downward.
The man in the blue suit writhes in agony on the floor, screaming as his hand is crushed.
Julian: Aaaaaah! My hand, it's broken!
Marshal Miller: That'll teach you to keep your hands to yourself during a federal arrest.
Victoria: Take him out through the service entrance before the press arrives.
Julian: I'll ruin all of you! I swear I'll take every single acre of this ranch!
Marshal Miller: The only thing you're taking tonight is a long ride in a secure transport van.