Hey everyone! Thanks to all of you that read and review my work-in-progress! That's right, both of you.
These trial parts are always my favorite part of the series. I try to end these little 'breaks' in the story with a evidence cliffhanger. You might have noticed it in the first case, and if you can guess what the evidence needed at the end of this chapter is (rather obvious this time), I'll give you a... uh... virtual cookie. That's it.

I love writing this story, and it's really ratcheting up to something incredible! But contradictions are everything, and if my logic fails, then my entire story falls apart. If there are any problems with the trials, evidence, or behavior of the characters (if it seems like I'm puppetearing them in order for the story to work), please, tell me so so I can fix the problem.

Anyway, have fun! And try to guess the evidence! (It's kind of like the real Ace attorney games that way)!

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"This court will now come to order."

It was my second time in court, yet I still shivered as the crack of the gavel rang out in the narrow halls. The audience was much more attentive and crowded this time around, and I could see the many sketch artists scribbling furiously on their notebook-easels. The judge was the same who presided over my last case, his ridiculously wild white beard still unshaven.

"H-how are you?"

I turned to my client sitting next to me. "I'm fine. How are you?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he uttered a cry and laid his head on the desk. I rolled my eyes.

"The trial for Doug Graves, accused of murder, is now in session. Are the defense and prosecution ready?"

I stood, prepared for anything. "The defense is ready, your honor."

"It's good to see you again Mr. Truth, I know how much pressure you must be facing, and for someone with your limited experience… I, wish you luck today. You're going to need it."

A rare comment from the judge, "uh, thank you your honor. I really appreciate your concern."

"The prosecution is ready, and in no need of a consolation pep-talk." Ian smiled deviously, as hyena-like as ever. He was wearing his black and grey striped vest with a black tie, different from the plain grey suit he wore last time. The vest and short-sleeve combination somehow made him seem more… vicious.

The gavel slammed down again. "Very well, I'm sure we're all anxious to start the trial; Mr. Vice, your opening statement please."

Ian nodded, "Of course your honor." He smiled widely; I was beginning to think he plainly forgot about his defeat just a few weeks ago. "Last week, on July13th, Mr. Sid Herms was killed in his very own office with his very own weapon. After he was murdered, his body was thrown out of his office window, thirty stories high. The prosecution will provide solid evidence and testimony that will prove that the defendant, and only the defendant, could have done the deed."

My client whined again; thankfully, it wasn't too loud.

The judge nodded. "You sound confident as always, and I hope you don't again need an additional ten minutes to prepare as you did last time."

"Of course not your honor, the difference between that case and this one is; simply, that this time the defendant is guilty without a doubt."

"Very well, is there anything you'd like to present before you call your first witness?"

"Yes, there is. I'm sure the court would like to know more about the murder weapon. The weapon actually belonged to the victim. He had a collection of valuable melee weapons on display in his office in a glass case hung on his wall."

Funny, I didn't remember seeing that when I went to look at the crime scene. Then again, I only looked through the door, which was admittedly pretty stupid, so the case must have been behind the upturned desk, on the wall next to where Sid Herms would sit.

"It's certainly strange to have weapons on display in an office, especially in something as fragile as a glass case." The judge said.

"There's an easy explanation for it, your honor." Ian pointed to a diagram of the crime scene on his desk. "Sid Herms liked to intimidate his employees. Perhaps his purpose to keeping a display of weapons in the room, right next to where he would be sitting, would be to scare anyone he called into his office. I'd be scared too, if I had to listen to my employer shout at me while a case of deadly melee weapons sat right next to him."

"Well," the judge seemed nervous at the thought, "I guess that would be a good enough reason."

"Wait a minute…" I stood up. "The case of weapons was next to where Sid Herms would sit? Wouldn't that make it hard for anyone sitting opposite him to get a weapon from the case without immediately alerting the victim?"

"Hmm…" The judge looked at the ceiling in thought, "That's a good point. How would it be possible?"

Ian chuckled. "The answer is simple, your honor, the victim was taken by surprise. But now is not the time for testimony, let us now address the autopsy report." He placed a manila folder on his desk and pulled out a few documents. "The approximate time of death was 3:00 in the morning. The cause of death was loss of blood from a knife stab to the chest. Also, here is the weapon in question."

He placed a plastic bag on the desk. Inside was an impressive-looking knife. It had jewels incrusted in the handle and the blade looked like it should gleam like a mirror; that is if it wasn't currently covered in blood.

"This does look rather valuable." The judge said.

Ian smiled. "It is; it's too bad the defendant soiled it so. It would have fetched a decent price on the market."

The judge cleared his throat. "Well, I've seen the evidence so far, but I've yet to see how suspicion was cast on the defendant. Perhaps, there were fingerprints on the murder weapon?"

Ian vice shook his head. "No your honor, there are no readable fingerprints. There are, however, smudge marks that point to the defendant using gloves…"

I was ready for this one. I clenched the document I had Terry send me a few hours ago.

"OBJECTION!"

The judge looked surprised. "Mr. Truth, it seems rather early to begin objecting, please explain yourself."

"It's simple, your honor. There was no way my client was wearing gloves that night! And I have proof!"

"Interesting," the judge nodded to me, "please go on."

"My client told me that he went out into a nearby hallway to call his wife to report that he would be coming home late. I had the phone in question dusted for prints, and sure enough, the fingerprints of Doug Grave showed up on both the phone and dial-pad!"

"Really? And what does that prove, attorney?" Ian smiled at me from across the courtroom.

I shook my head. "You of all people should know where I'm going with this. Mr. Grave didn't have gloves with him at the time because he left his fingerprints all over the payphone!"

"Objection, Mr. Attorney; that is not acceptable as an explanation."

"W-what? Why would that be?" I pounded the desk and began to sweat.

Ian shrugged. "For a variety of reasons. First, he could have put on the gloves right before he murdered the victim. Second, I'd find it a little awkward trying to push little buttons on a payphone with gloves on; he could have simply removed his gloves to use the phone for comfort reasons. Is that enough, or would you like me to continue?"

I sat down; I was so sure that would help my case… "No, the defense sees the prosecution's point…"

"What?" My client whispered to me. "You can't just back down now!"

"There's nothing I can do right now, Mr. Grave. Now, we wait for the witness to testify," I cracked my knuckles, "and that, I'm ready for."

Ian shook his head and addressed the judge. "Back to what you were saying before we were interrupted by Mr. Attorney. I know the evidence so far seems… lacking, but we have yet to turn our attention to two very important ingredients. Those ingredients are, motive and testimony. Allow me to explain the former." He closed his eyes and crossed his arms. "Apparently, Sid Herms himself docked Mr. Grave a month's pay for clumsy actions in the workplace and talking back to a superior. That night, during a birthday celebration on the thirtieth floor, the defendant spilled coffee on important work documents. When confronted by Sid Herms, the defendant threw a tantrum. The victim punished Mr. Grave by not paying him for the next month. The defendant, angry and without proper judgment, proceeded to enter Mr. Herms private office, taking the victim by surprise, and stabbing him in the chest with his own knife. I'm sure this provides enough motive?"

The judge nodded, "Quite. I believe the only thing left to do is hear some testimony, and then I may be ready to pass my verdict."

I gulped. So far, things weren't looking good.

The gavel swung down. "The prosecution may call its first witness."

Ian nodded and smiled. "The prosecution calls Holly Wreath to the stand."

A very attractive woman in a blue business-suit stood up and took her place on the stand. She looked out at the audience and winked a few times at some of the sketcher's. She had blond hair and blue eyes, and she grasped a pretty little blue purse in both hands. Her entire demeanor reeked of the word 'cute'.

The judge cleared his throat. "Since this was a rather important feature of our last trial, I'd like to stress how important it is for the witness to give their name and correct occupation."

"My name is Holly Wreath, and I'm the secretary for Sid Herms, the richest man in America." she placed her purse on the witness' desk and took out some lipstick.

"Ms. Wreath is a very important witness," Ian hunched over his desk, "I have entrusted the case to her testimony, which will reveal to the court the entire truth of this case."

The judge nodded. "This does appear rather vital. Witness, please begin your testimony."

"Of course, your honor," she smiled and did a small curtsy. She turned to address the audience. "I had gone home that night around ten o'clock. When I got undressed to go to bed, I realized I had left my cell phone at my secretary desk. So I got dressed and drove back to the building, rode an elevator to the thirtieth floor and went to my desk to retrieve my phone. That's when I saw him, the guy sitting right there!" She pointed at my client, who gave a small yelp. "He walked in Sid's office at 2:47, and I heard a scream! It was definitely him! He's the one who killed Sid!"

"Very interesting," said the judge, "so you saw the defendant go into the victim's office, the scene of the crime, near the approximate time of death, and you even heard the victim scream. That was indeed a decisive testimony. One thing though, why are you so precise about the time of death?"

"Oh, my cell phone." She pulled a pink phone out of her purse for the court to see. "I had just found it on my desk, I quickly flipped it open to check if the batteries were still running, and the time was displayed right on the screen."

"That seems convenient; very well, the defense may now proceed with the cross-examination."

I stood up. "Yes it will." The first cross-examination of the trial, and I was ready for it. I made sure my tie was straight and came closer to the witness bench.

"Ms. Wreath, isn't it strange that you'd go home at ten o'clock? I mean, you employer was having a birthday party on the thirtieth floor, why wouldn't you stay?"

The witness smirked at me. "Oh, you can ask anyone who works there, and they'll tell you that Sid was always a bit of an ass." She flicked her hand playfully and grinned. "He was constantly yelling at someone, and it was usually me. I mean, I was his secretary after all, who else did he have? Anyway, I didn't feel like staying when I knew that so many things could go wrong, so I decided to go home."

"You felt threatened by your employer, so you took off at the end of your shift." Ian stood up straight. "Perfectly normal; any problems with you, attorney?"

Nothing so far. I turned back to the witness. "How do we know that you really did go back to the Sid Herms building that night?"

"Umm…" she tapped her head with a pen. "I guess I can't prove it, but I really did go. I'm sure I'm on some security camera or something."

"Incidentally," Ian touched his right knuckle to his forehead, "There is a security camera at the front of the building that runs after-hours. We can say for certain that the witness entered the building at around 2:30 that night, proven by the video."

Too bad for attacking the witness' credibility.

I recalled how I left the building and remembered that the elevator did not respond when I punched the button. "Mam, are the elevators shut off after business hours?"

"Oh, yes they are."

"If that's the case, then how were you able to go up to the 30th floor that night, unless you took the stairs?"

"With this." She pulled a blue card out of her purse. "See this? This is the Herms' building official card key." She turned her head and watched me from the corners of her eyes with a smile on her face. "I can come and go as I please anywhere in the building with this card, even Sid's office if I wanted, and that includes operating the elevators." She chuckled to herself. "To get one of these cards, you have to more than the average worker. You have to be a janitor, a close friend of Sid, a member of the committee, or me; the secretary. But then again, only Sid's and mine are special!"

"Umm…" I itched the back of my head. "And why would you call your key card 'special', Ms. Wreath?"

"What? They're blue!" She said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Many audience members seemed to agree with her.

I yawned. "Anyway, are you entirely sure that you saw my client, Mr. Graves, enter Mr. Herms' office a that time?"

"Of course! It was more than obvious! He didn't appear to see me, he seemed focused on something, but I got a really good look at him from my desk. Unless he has a twin brother, you couldn't persuade me otherwise." She winked and grinned.

That's pretty strong testimony. However, there was no possible way for Mr. Grave to get into Sid Herms' office, and I have the evidence to prove it!