probity - integrity and uprightness; honesty
"Mr. Winchester, have you heard a thing I have said," the little man in front of him blustered.
Sam shrugged, the chains on his wrists clinking together. He couldn't care less what happened to him now.
"I am your court appointed defender," he repeated and then waited.
Sam did not respond except to scratch at a particularly itchy spot on his growing scruff. He hadn't spoken in almost two months.
The lawyer shuffled a few papers. "I can not promise to get you out of this if you won't speak to me," he entreated.
Sam fixed the annoyance with one of his best dead stares before his gaze returned to the wall behind him.
The man paled, "Alright then. Your hearing is next Monday. I'll have a suit for you to wear." He frowned and added, "It would be a good idea to shave," before he quickly left the room.
The guards entered a few moments later to return him to his cell. The tall young idiot, though still dwarfed by Sam, on his right asked his partner, "Why doesn't he speak?"
The older guard who had been on duty when he had been marched into the facility wearing enough chains to restrain a horse cleared his throat. They learned on the first day that Sam was generally quiet and kept to himself unless provoked. He had no idea if asking dumb questions qualified.
Sam didn't react.
He looked up and finally replied, "His brother is dead."
Sam threw the first punch.