Edgeworth flicked through the paperwork on his desk and sighed. Why did Phoenix have to get himself into that? And now, because he was such a high-profile case, they had commissioned the very best to prosecute him-the Chief Prosecutor himself. In other words, Edgeworth was stuck prosecuting his best friend.
He took another look at the evidence. It was all so... decisive.
"I'm sorry, old friend," he muttered into the air, "but we're doomed."
He sat down at his desk and wrote a letter. He supposed it was mostly to Phoenix, but he had a feeling that other people would want to see it too. His eye was drawn to the kettle and he got up to make himself a cup of his favourite tea. Earl Grey, which would help.
He counted out the pills he always took whenever he had trouble sleeping. Eight, he thought. Eight is the lethal dose.
He opened each one up and watched the bitter white powder dissolve into the liquid in front of him.
He took his first sip, praying that he'd be able to finish his tea before his heart stopped.
Phoenix knocked on the door of the Chief Prosecutor's office.
"Mr. Edgeworth?"
He knocked again, a little harder.
Silence.
Desperately, he tried the door. It was unlocked.
The first thing he saw was his friend slumped seemingly asleep, with fragments of bone china on the floor next to him.
That was all he needed.
Trying to keep his composure, he rushed around like a madman until he found the person he needed to.
"Ema, would you... seal off the Prosecutor's Office for me?"
"Why?!"
"We may have a homicide on our hands."
About an hour later, Ema turned to Phoenix with a concerned but weirdly relieved look on her face.
"Well, I can safely say it is not a homicide."
"Why not?"
"Scientific reason: only his fingerprints were found on the bottle of pills that were evidently used to kill him."
"And the unscientific reason?"
"He left a note."
Phoenix took the letter from Ema's hand. Trembling, he started to read.
Phoenix,
I know you're innocent. We all do. But I'm too good at my job and the evidence is too decisive for the judge to agree. Whatever scum framed you was a little too competent for my liking. Perhaps in a better world I would find them and make them pay, but not in this one. In any case, I'd rather die by my own hand than let you die by it. That is why, as ironic as this statement is, Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death.