The jury returned a guilty verdict on 37 of the 41 counts in under five hours.
Judge Celestina Noe sentenced Clovis Beaumont to 216 months in federal prison.
She held her reading glasses in one hand and looked at him from the bench with the practiced judicial distance of someone who has stopped being surprised by the depths of institutional corruption, but has not stopped being disgusted by it.
"You treated this department as a personal revenue stream," she said. "You treated this community as a population to be managed through fear rather than served through law. And when the law finally came for you, you attempted to use the worst impulses of one of your own officers as a human shield."
She paused.
"You are not a victim of your circumstances, Sheriff Beaumont. You are the cause of them."
Barry Sexton received 180 months on his plea deal. Mayor Gaffney received 96 months and was ordered to make full financial restitution.
Dale Pruitt, whose cooperation had been instrumental in securing every conviction, received 48 months in a federal minimum-security facility.
Judge Arno, in sentencing him, noted that cooperation did not erase a violent felony assault against a federal officer. And that the roots of the attack, bias, entitlement, and the willingness to use physical force against a person as a first rather than last resort, were precisely the cultural failures that the entire investigation had set out to address.
He would need to reckon with that.
He said he understood. He was beginning to.
The Harwick County Sheriff's Department was placed under federal receivership pending a complete structural overhaul.
The building was extensively renovated. The administrative command structure was replaced entirely. And an independent oversight board was established, with federal monitoring authority for a period of not less than five years.
On the morning the receivership order took effect, Josephine Duval drove through Meridian Falls one last time on her way back to the airport.
She had a flight to catch. There was a new city, a new case file, a new sealed indictment in a leather folio on the seat beside her.
The work was what it was. Patient, meticulous, endless.
Corruption didn't announce itself, and it didn't stop when you weren't looking. It metastasized quietly, in systems built on deference and silence, and on the assumption that the people holding the authority were not themselves subject to it.
Every single officer in that lobby had believed, right up until those steel doors sealed them inside, that they were operating in a space beyond consequence.
The ledger in the lockbox behind the gun rack said otherwise.
It always does.