The groom was in his hotel room, looking at himself in the mirror. He was about to do it; a lifelong commitment that so many men fear to encounter. But he was not scared. He was ready.
"What a nice day for a white wedding," a quiet voice said behind him. The groom turned away from the mirror to look at the owner of the voice. It was a harmless looking man with glasses wearing a green shirt, possibly part of a uniform.
"Uh, hi. Who are you?" the groom asked.
"I don't think that matters. Who are YOU?" the man's voice seemed to rise into a sinister sneer, "What makes you think you can take her away from me?" The groom chuckled at the man's challenge, fastening his tie.
"Are you kidding me? What are you, an ex-boyfriend or something?"
"You could say that."
"Well, I don't care. You can get lost." The groom turned back to the mirror and started to fiddle with his cuff links. He suddenly began to sweat a little, the nerves were surfacing. It may have been because he could still feel the invader's presence. He turned back to him.
"What are you still doing here?" The man simply glared at him, "Listen, you creepy-"
At that moment, the man lunged at the groom and cleanly stabbed him in the shoulder. The groom groaned loudly in pain and fell backwards. The man advanced upon him again, grabbed his neck and forced him outside, onto the balcony. He tried not to look in the grooms eyes, as he pushed him over the railings. He heard the groom yelp. He heard his body hit the ground, 8 stories below. He ran away from the scene, out of the room and to the nearest elevator, pushing the button frantically. The doors opened immediately, he ran in. As the doors closed, his eyes closed too.
"Katrina," he whispered.
It was a slow morning. There were no calls; no cases had come in for a few weeks. Maya was back home in Kurain village, leaving me alone. Calling her was the most productive thing I had done all day, and she seemed excited, as always. She said she was having a blast, the village had arranged a big ceremony to celebrate her first year as a master. She invited me, but I declined. I told her a big case was sure to come up.
I was right.
I was about to take a nap when there was loud thump on the door. I got up from the couch, straightened the crinkles on my clothes.
"Come in," I said. The door swung open and large man wearing a driving cap burst in.
"You!" he bellowed. I tried to ignore his theatrical entrance and be professional.
"Hello there my name is-"
"I know who you are young man, your name is on the door," he pointed to the piece of paper taped to the door with my name written on it. In pencil.
"Why yes it is. I'm Phoenix Wright anyway, how can I help?" The old man simple spluttered, completely overwhelmed.
"My son-in-law, he's been murdered!"
"When did this happen?"
"Yesterday. At his wedding." He choked on the word "wedding". I wondered if the victim was even married before it happened.
"I'm so sorry."
"What's worse, they've arrested my daughter!" It all came down to this. The fiancé was the accused, but I couldn't think of any good reason why the bride would want to kill the groom on their wedding day. I had to investigate.
"Please, take a seat sir. Tell me about what happened, and I can help you."