"We intend to prove that Frank Castle's mental state precludes him from being able to commit an act of premeditated murder," Foggy said confidently to the microphones shoved in his face on the steps of the courthouse, trying desperately not to wince at the flashbulbs stinging his eyes. He looked over to Karen, off to the side, and saw her smile at him and throw him a thumbs up, encouragement to keep going. "The DA is intent on painting our client out to be a calculating, methodical vigilante, when in fact he is a victim of the same broken criminal justice system as the men whose lives he took. What Mr. Castle needs is medical treatment, not a death sentence. Compassion, not an eye for an eye. That's what we are seeking, and that's what we will demonstrate in court today."
He moved away from the the throng of reporters all shouting additional questions at him and made his way up the courthouse steps towards the doors. And that's when he spotted her.
He recognized her immediately, even though years had passed since he had last seen her. He had fond memories of running his fingers through her dark brown curls long before they were peppered witih gray, and of staring into her wide, expressive eyes now obscured by too much eyeliner and the wrinkles that came with worrying about too many children and a life hard lived. She was dressed in what were clearly her nicest clothes, an ill-fitting blazer with out of date shoulder pads bought on sale in a thrift shop that awkwardly hung on her frame over a lacy tank top, and a pleated skirt that was just a little too short for the setting. Louise Smith. Smitty's sister. There with the rest of her relatives and friends to witness the trial of the maniacal mass murderer who gunned a member of their family down in cold blood.
The man whom Foggy was there to defend. Immediately, he wished he were anywhere else.
He could feel her stare burning into his back as he quickly walked past her without stopping, sense the disappointment and the anger.
Once in the courtroom, he re-focused on the day's testimony and on his duty as Frank Castle's defense. But he knew that she was there, watching. She sat quietly while he walked Colonel Schoonover through a tale of military heroics. While he created a picture of Frank Castle as a model officer and a good man for the jury.
Later, as Dr. Lee gave his testimony, as the courtroom heard details of "sympathetic storming" and as Foggy led the expert to conclude that Frank Castle had "been through hell", Foggy couldn't help but be aware of the crying and head-shaking that was happening in the seats behind him. She was comforting someone. Maybe a cousin or a nephew.
It wasn't enough. She couldn't stop what happened next.
"You killed my dad," the young man, a teenager, yelled. Foggy's heart sank. "I don't give a shit what you've been through!"
The outburst was quickly subdued. But the words lingered in Foggy's mind. Would linger long after the trial ended, he knew. What was he doing?
Later that day, when court was dismissed, he felt a hand tug his shoulder as he tried to make his way out of the building.
"Hey, big shot!" she said. "You got nothing to say to me?"
"No," he said, turning around to face her. "I don't. I'm sorry, Weezy. I am."
"Sorry don't make this right, Fog," Louise choked out, tears in her eyes. "That monster killed my brother, and now you're defending him? Talking about sympathy and compassion? Where was that for Smitty? Frank Castle deserves to pay in blood for what he did!"
"Will that make really make it better?" Foggy asked her. "It won't bring him back. You know that."
"I don't care," she said. "That man in there sitting next to you hunted my brother down like he was an animal. Smitty was just going about his business. What'd he ever do to Frank Castle, huh?"
"Oh, so now you're rewriting history?" Foggy asked her. "Your brother wasn't exactly the picture of innocence."
"Maybe not," Louise told him. "But he was your friend, once. He always liked you. You were the only guy he was ever alright with me hooking up with."
"Yeah," Foggy said. "I remember."
"Really?" Louise spit at him. "Because it kinda seems like you don't."
"That's not fair," Foggy told her. "I'm just doing my job."
"Well la di dah, Mr. Attorney at Law," Louise said venomously, "I hope it pays enough to cover the cost of your soul. I don't get you, Fog. We all heard what you did for that little old lady and her tenement, for Pope and Fitzhugh, hell, for the whole damned neighborhood. You and Murdock. And now here you are making excuses for a guy who'd see us all wiped off the face of the Earth if he could. That guy's a psychopath! He don't care who's in his way."
"You're wrong," Foggy tried to explain. "He watched his whole family die. He just needs help."
"I don't think you believe that," Louise replied. "I think you know as well as I do that if he ever gets out, a lot of your friends and clients will be some of the first people on his shit list. And maybe you, too. Are you thinking about that?"
"He doesn't deserve to die!" Foggy said.
"And Smitty did?" Louise asked.
"That's not what I..." Foggy said, flustered. "You have to look at the bigger-"
"I don't have to look at anything except the expression on my kids faces whenever they think about how much they miss their uncle," Louise said, sobbing. "That's what I have to look at. Every day."
"And you have my condolences for that, but I didn't have anything to do with that. What do you want from me, Weezy. I told you I'm sorry," Foggy said.
"Yeah, well you will be," Louise told him. "After all this. Because you've pissed off a lot of people. And I didn't come here to have it out with you. I just wanted to warn you."
"Warn me?" Foggy asked, confused.
"That the Dogs of War may be down, but they're not out," she explained. "And they know who you are now. So I'd watch yourself. Because if justice doesn't happen in that courtroom, you can damn well bet that they'll make sure it happens on the streets."
"Weezy..." Foggy said, wishing that there was anything he could say to make the circumstances different.
"Goodbye, Foggy," she said, and she walked away.
Foggy could only stand there and watch her go, frustrated and with no clue what to do or how it came to this. He was screwed no matter what happened. Either the DA and the press would eat him alive or the Dogs of War and street gangs would. And where the hell was his partner?