Authors notes: potentially spoilery, at base of page as a result.

-Judy-

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Judy drove to the courts with a pit in her stomach. She was nervous this morning and had lost her appetite, a cold bowl of slowly congealing porridge oats bearing testament to that fact. She told herself time and time again that the court system was good, that Nick would be let go soon. But on her way to the courts every little sign and instinct seemed to tell her otherwise. The sky was overcast and slightly moist but unready to actually rain. The streets seemed quieter as she drove through them while strangers seemed to glance at her in odd ways. Every time she tried to calm herself down, she merely wound herself up again with another errant thought and, considering it was early in the morning and she was without coffee, this was most definitely a bad sign.

Her parents had called in the evening after she had got home. While usual pleasantries had been exchanged, there was still trepidation in the air. Stu at least had been neutral on the matter, saying that it was her choice who to trust and who to support. Bonnie, on the other hand, had sincerely reassured her that she didn't have to stand in solidarity with Nick simply because he was a police officer. The cheek, the utter vile cheek of thinking that she was supporting Nick because the other officers wanted her to… Judy merely shuddered and switched to an easy listening station as she parked outside and walked in.

Outside, once more, stood the protesters. The chants were in the air and the placards waved about but Judy tried to seal them off as she climbed the steps.

"Miss Hopp's?" came a quivering voice.

Judy refocussed and saw a wallaby, about twelve years old. She was dressed in blue clothing and had something in her hand. Pushing it forward, Judy saw that it was a police cadets badge. Not an official brass badge like the real thing but, instead, one made of tin and electroplated. There had never been any cadets in bunny-burrow so Judy couldn't join, but in the big city many schools had groups which would meet together once a week in order to help out neighbourhood watches and perform community service.

"Hello there…" Judy said, relieved a bit to be transported to a time before all this mess.

"I'd just… like to say…" the girl said, tears building up in her eyes. Judy paused, unsure of how to comfort her, but she finished the sentence before she could decide.

"You were once… my hero." With that, the girl pushed the little badge into Judy's hand and left, crying. Judy looked up in silence as she hopped back to what looked like an elder sibling in the crowd. The older brother or sister looked up while comforting the Joey and made eye contact with Judy before shaking their head with disappointment and betrayal etched onto their face. Judy turned down to look at the badge before silently continuing up the steps. For once, her mind was clear and empty that morning.

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"Court is in session," announced the Judge who had climbed back to the top of his desk. "I believe the defence has one more witness it would like to call before we can begin cross examination."

"We do indeed sir," replied the defence lawyer, in a mildly cocky and overconfident tone.

Out of a back door came a middle aged meerkat wearing a set of casual clothes (which Judy quickly assumed was his best set.) After being sworn in, Nicks Lawyer (or Mr Wessling, as she now knew him by) began asking the questions.

"On the alleged night of the attack, did you or did you not serve food to two people in this room?"

"I did, I served Nick here and that guy over there" (he said, pointing at Manny), "Are you all okay with me pointing? I'm not quite sure to act here." The meerkat spoke in a relaxed, carefree tone with his words drawn out as if he were on holiday or something.

"Rest assured, you're doing fine sir."

"Oh, don't call me sir… I'm far too laid back to be a sir. Just call me pal or something."

The people in the court house snickered a bit as the judge politely asked the witness to stick to the standard formalities. The Meerkat straightened up and readjusted his collar, evidently adjusting himself to the tone of the room. In this time, a roll down board had been drawn out in sight of both the Jury and audience. With a flickering light, a picture of three similar (but not identical) pieces of crumpled paper were projected onto screen while Nicks lawyer looked back up to the witness.

"Could you confirm that these receipts are from your business?"

"Yes indeed, all three of them."

"Members of the Jury, while I believe I have already done enough to show my client wouldn't have committed this crime, I have evidence here that he couldn't have committed it. While the leftmost receipt is a random sample from this witness's café, the other two are taken from Mr Wilde's and Mr Guazu's wallets and they clearly show that these two were twenty minutes away from the site of attack when it was meant to occur."

There was a gasp in the audience as the pictures of the receipts zoomed in to show the dates and times highlighted. Millie and her lawyer remained cold faced and silent while, to Judy's left, the Wilde's smiled and relaxed somewhat. She even heard Finnick, who was in attendance nearby, snigger "They hustled them… they hustled em good!".

'That he did', smiling Judy thought back as the lawyer continued.

"This is a police verified, rock solid Alibi. Either the prosecution got their timeline completely wrong or this attack never occurred at all. Whatever it is, this evidence removes any legal possibility of conviction unless new incriminating evidence can be provided. I rest my case."

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-Nick-

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He had been told that cross-examination was a brutal affair in which the integrity of all those called was put to the test. Truth be told, however, the integrity of their side was tough to beat. Bogo was the distinguished chief of police, Judy the hero of the city and Manny the meek student. While the last witness could be cross examined, he was only really there to provide a simple witness statement and verify that some receipts came from his business. The previous day had already seen Nick himself cross examined and there was little more they could dig. Henceforth, it only came as a mild surprise that his accusers declined to cross examine anyone on their side (despite what looked like angry whispers from Millie to her lawyer). Nick turned to his lawyer who stood up and spoke.

"We would like to cross examine the doctor who was brought in yesterday."

"As is your wish," replied the Judge as he called in the doctor once more. The doctor quickly entered the courtroom in a dignified manner, holding his head high while his close trimmed white mane stuck out like a ridge behind his neck. The white horse doctor sat down and was sworn in before the questioning began.

"Yesterday you stated that a loop muzzle was used on Miss Kruger, correct?" began Nicks lawyer.

"That I did," replied the horse doctor, calm and collected.

"What evidence did you have to confirm this?"

"Partial bruising along Miss Kruger's snout."

"And anything on the back of the head or neck?" enquired the lawyer.

"No, nothing there. There is, however, the possibility that the head strap was loose and thus left no bruising."

"But surely, an attempt to remove the muzzle by a panicking mammal would result in such bruising?"

"That it would, but if little force was applied there would be no bruising."

"So if Millie was no struggling and was quite comfortable with the muzzle on, then no damage would be done?"

"Logically, yes."

"But wouldn't someone being muzzled fight back, panic…"

The lawyer was interrupted by boos and hisses coming from the crowd. Turning around, he saw that many of Millie's supporters were incised by the comment and angrily venting their fury. The sudden sound of the Judge's gavel quickly stopped the commotion and, with a subtle nod, the doctor began speaking.

"Not always, many victims are slowly coerced into the muzzle and left doubting of themselves throughout the experience. Others may be able to keep their nerves under control and slowly removed the device."

The lawyer, seeing that this line of questioning was failing, chose to abandon subtlety and go straight in.

"Would you say that the bruising on the accuser was definitely caused by a muzzle?"

"…. No. A muzzle would explain it but it isn't the only explanation."

"Any idea on an alternative explanation?"

"Off the top of my head, self-inflicting them by rubbing a rope on the snout comes to mind but I have nothing after that."

"Thank you, the is all".

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The Judge stood up looked across the crowd. His figure looming across the courtroom, as much as a mouse could in any case, he spoke up once more and boomed to those beneath him. "With no further evidence or cross examination ready to take place, I invite the prosecution and defence to provide their closing statements before the Jury is dismissed."

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"Members of the Jury," the prosecutor began, his voice seemingly tinged with both the sound of resignation to defeat and a hopeless pleading. "The unlawful, forced muzzling of mammals has been ignored as a scourge of society for too long. Investigation, prosecution and conviction levels for this crime are too low while a long line of traumatised and emotionally unstable victims have been left unable to find closure for years. In the midst of this, we have an unprovoked assault on a notable activist by a member of our very own police force. If we allow this kind of evil to exist in such a vital, trust based part of our society, what kind of society are we?"

Nick chewed his teeth slightly, slowly digesting the gritty irony and pain of what had just been said. Looking over, he saw that his own lawyer was ready to speak.

"Members of the Jury, many of you may have lingering concerns against my client. You may consider him sneaky, untrustworthy… dangerous even? But let us look at the larger picture here. He is accused of muzzling a woman, ten times his own weight and whose kicks could break his spine, at a party he had definitely left much earlier in the night. After a traumatic event earlier in his life, he has serious mental issues when handling muzzles and would surely be the last person to use them in anger. The only evidence we have that links him to this case is an unreliable testimony. We don't even have definitive proof that the muzzling even occurred! You were previously asked about what kind of society we live in. I say, we live in a good society that doesn't send innocent mammals to jail for crimes they didn't commit."

"Thank you," stated the Judge, his gravitas filled voice taking over the attention of the room. The moment of silence was quickly filled in as the judge continued. "I hereby dismiss the Jury so that they may discuss the facts of the trial and come to a verdict. The Jury shall have already been informed of the responsibilities and conduct that they must abide by. Court dismissed."

.

Behind the courtroom lay the holding cells and associated infrastructure. Nick was led through winding, featureless corridors that reeked of cheap antiseptic cleaner until he was filed into an empty room and locked inside. To say it was quiet was an understatement. Soon Nick was keeping his mind in check by listening to his breath as he inhaled and exhaled. Sometimes he would change the speed and the depth to add some diversity to the long day and sometimes he would try and forget it all and simply let his body take over the reins once more. He had no clock or watch and so there was no sense of how fast time was passing. Was he in there for one hour, three, five? The tension was far worse than any previous time he had been in a cell while a sense of dread was slowly filling his body. Ultimately, Nick tried to fall asleep and, after what seemed like an eternity, he drifted off. There were no dreams this time, no fear and pain. After he was arrested the muzzling nightmares had come back thick and fast in an intensity that Nick could never remember occurring before. For the week before the trial, every night had been restless as he ran and clawed at his face. Fortunately, however, the terrors only seemed to come in every other dream now and were at a level where Nick could shrug them off when he woke. When he woke up again, he fittingly felt like he was shrugging. However, an aggravated tone accompanied that shrug and Nick, turning his head and letting his eyes refocus, peered into the eyes of a guard who was jabbing him with a truncheon.

"It's time. The Jury has reached a verdict."

"How long did they take?" Nick asked, curious to find out how much of his life had slipped away since he last saw fellow kind.

"Three hours," came the stone cold reply.

Three hours… Nick dreaded to think how long a prison sentence would seem to take at this rate.

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As he entered the courtroom, Nick looked into the benches and saw his colleagues, Chief Bogo among them. The police chief had his best poker face on but Nick could see his eyes dart around with concern. Beside Bogo sat Fangmeyer, Judy and Manny (with Finnick likely sitting hidden between them.) All looked nervous as he walked on. Clawhauser was missing, as he had been throughout the case. Knowing the cat, Nick guessed that he was still in conflict about whether to follow Gazelle (whom Nick had learned was supporting Millie) or his friends. Had it been anyone else then Nick would be angry, but Clawhauser was someone who no-one could truly hold a grudge against for long. By the central corridor Nick saw his family, the parents who had loved him and supported him and who he had supported in kind back during their hardest times. His two sisters, who he hadn't grown up with but who he loved none the less stood by them. They were all there and he could see that they were terrified, eyes open, fur on end and ears back, they made eye contact and all tried to smile but it was little reassurance. As Nick sat down at his chair, he saw the Jury enter and take their place. The pit of dread in his stomach was growing with every second and he now wished he was back in his cell.

"Has the Jury reached a verdict?" asked the judge.

"We have, your honour," replied the head juror.

Three hours, three hours to decide his fate? Was that long enough? Would he loose his life after these people spent just three hours discussing him?

"Do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?"

Nick closed his eyes and buckled down. His breathing and heart rate increased as he awaited his fate. He was still a fox wasn't he? Nothing had changed and he would never be trusted. How long would he be sent away for? Twenty years, thirty, the rest of his life? He had heard stories, would angry guards and inmates muzzle him in there for much of that time? Nicks head filled with dread. He felt the iron grip of the muzzle once more, biting into his mouth and face and squeezing in. He felt the cold pain and burn, he felt terror as if he was stuck on railway tracks in front of an oncoming train, he felt…

"Not guilty."

He felt free…

Authors notes: Down here as I didn't want to spoil that this was the end of this arc. I admit, I've never done courtroom stories before and, while interesting to write, I'll probably stray from doing another one for a while and if I do do one, it will be the focus of the story (so that character building and pacing can be better executed).

Good news. I'm probably more than halfway through writing the final arc, although what is written likely needs a fair bit of polish. There have been a few comments, and I plan to answer them and any extra's in the next post (which will probably be on sunday).