Court reconvened, and the gallery buzzed for long cracks of the Judge's gavel. Finally, quiet fell. Edgeworth bit out his statement:
"It is unclear how Mr. Pathos is involved in the case. But he was in the vicinity of Foster Park and the Orchard bistro on the morning of the murder, and he may have vital information. The prosecution now calls Mr. Pathos to the stand."

As he looked to Maya and Stewart, Phoenix thrummed with a stronger force than nerves. Something was going to happen here; readiness charged the air.

On an even gait and a pleasant smile, Pathos took the witness stand.
"Witness," Edgeworth said, "Your name and occupation."
He eased his hands to rest in his suit pockets. "I am Sior Pathos, amateur journalist."
"And for the sake of the record," Edgeworth asked, his tone chillier than usual, "Why were you in the courtroom this morning, Mr. Pathos?"
Pathos inclined his head. "I simply decided to watch a trial. I've heard they can be quite exciting. But I was struck with inspiration for my writing just moments ago, and I wasn't paying attention to the proceedings." With a smile, he added, "Your Honour, I apologize for inconveniencing this court."
"Oh!" The Judge straightened. "Why, it's no trouble at all, Mr. Pathos!"

"I'm pretty sure it was some trouble," Maya muttered.
And it would be more trouble if Pathos could play the Judge like a fiddle.

"Now, then." Holding a pen ready, Edgeworth flicked a look at Pathos. "If you would give your statement once more for the court: what were you doing on Tuesday morning?"
"With pleasure."
Pathos looked at Phoenix then, direct, and still smiling small and cool. Did he really think he was going to get away with it? Phoenix's hands turned to fists against the stand.

"On Tuesday morning," Pathos began, "I had an early lunch in the Orchard bistro."
"Hold it," Phoenix called. He had to stay calm, follow threads and yank the loose ones. "What time was that?"
"I left my apartment at approximately ten-thirty. And the path through the Orchard kitchen is an elaborate one, as I'm sure you know, Mr. Wright." A flash in Pathos's icy eyes, and he glanced between Phoenix and Maya, resettling his hands in his pockets. "So, I would have been in the Orchard at approximately twenty minutes to eleven. You can ask the good Chef LaFlamme about it. She served my meal."
That did match Cherry's testimony - which wasn't the point.
"The good Chef ...?" Phoenix tried. He rubbed his chin. "Are you on friendly terms with Chef LaFlamme?"
"Of course," Pathos smiled. "For all her shortcomings, she is a remarkable individual. I don't mind sharing property with her at all."

"How graceful," Foxx said, dry enough to crack.
"Should we push that?" Phoenix asked.
"Whether they're friends?" Maya scratched her temple. "Maybe where he was at the time of the murder is more important than why he was there?"
"See where it goes, Phoenix," Foxx decided, "Let's see where he'll lead us."
Hopefully somewhere Phoenix had a map for.

"And when you were done your meal?" Edgeworth prompted.
A pause. Pathos blinked contemplatively. "As I finished my meal, I began the preliminary notes for my next article. Not long afterward, I left the Orchard."
"Hold it," Phoenix called. "Why did you leave?"
That same level smile, and that same knowing gaze. "Because the lunch hour was upon the Orchard. That sort of bustling noise is a distraction to me, you see."

Now came the important part - Phoenix leaned forward.
"So, Mr. Pathos, where did you go?"
"I'll say it again for you, Mr. Wright. I went for a walk in Foster Park, to clear my head. Mostly on the main path, past the wedding festivities, since the other paths can be so terribly muddy."
"The mud was a concern for you?" Edgeworth didn't look up from taking notes, his brows knitted. "Why is that?"
"I didn't want my shoes dirtied." Pathos looked pointedly down, to his luminously polished dress shoes. "Although, I still ended up needing to wash some debris from them when I arrived home. One never knows when a first impression will be made, of course."

"If he really cleaned his shoes, we can't pin him with soil traces," Foxx hissed.
One more lost opportunity. So what did they have? The Nexus pen and the ink on the victim's sweater, and the security camera-

"And while on my walk," Pathos continued, "I saw the defendant fleeing the scene of the crime."
"What?!" Phoenix choked.

The gallery rumbled, and the Judge hammered his gavel.
"Order! Order! Mr. Pathos," and the Judge frowned confused, like a dog just realizing it had peanut butter stuck to the roof of its mouth. "Why didn't you mention this before?"
"Should I have?" Pathos had the nerve to keep smiling. "My apologies. I don't mean to hide anything from this court, I'm simply telling the events as they happened."
"Then you should have been more specific in your prior statement to me," Edgeworth grated - it was a wonder his pen didn't snap in his hand.
"May I go into detail now, then?" Pathos asked, "I'll be very thorough in what I saw."

"He's bluffing," Phoenix hissed, "No one saw Stewart … Right?"
"No one else was on that path, but-" Foxx paused, and a pained sound slipped from her. "But he's seen J! He knows the uniform, he knows how Agents move in the field! And if he committed the murder-"
"Then he has everything he needs to make up a testimony! Maya, pass me the alley notes?"
She shuffled through papers. "Look at the map, too, Nick! I marked Pathos's trail on it!"
Lemon-bright highlighter caught Phoenix's eye again, forming a triangle along Pathos's flight path, widening to fill the Orchard alley. Pathos's trail? Of what?

"I was walking down the main path of the park," Pathos was beginning, "Enjoying the weather and the music."
"Hold it!" Phoenix glanced to the notes and back. "There was music ...?"
"I believe a wedding celebration was taking place in the park? I recall seeing workers erecting the karaoke stage, the previous evening."

"He knew about the wedding, and he knew there was music," Foxx murmured.
"And he felt Stewart's music, too, didn't he?" Maya asked. "With his music sense."
That was the only way Pathos could have known an Agent was nearby - picking up on the vibes most people didn't notice. But if there was music in the area before Stewart arrived on the scene ...

"I see," the Judge said. "It seems that Foster Park was quite popular that morning. And then what happened?"
"Then," Pathos went on, his smile dropping off, "Movement in the bushes caught my eye, and I turned back. I saw the defendant emerge from the trees, running."
"Objection!" Phoenix slammed the stand. "This is a serious accusation, Mr. Pathos. What makes you think it was my client you saw?"
"You'd like a description, Mr. Wright?" A smirk spread on Pathos, slowly. "He was wearing a black suit and good shoes, and he had blond hair, neatly styled. He was well-built and if I had to estimate, perhaps five-foot-eight. He ran as if for his life, on a diagonal across the street and into the Orchard bistro's alleyway."
"You sound quite sure of yourself," Edgeworth commented, raising a brow.
"Because I'm quite sure of what I saw." And Pathos turned his gaze to the defendant's box - staring, frost slipping into his voice. "The defendant can change his appearance however he likes, but I recognize him. I know what he did."

Stewart - holding his head high, looking pale and alone - said nothing.

"May I ask," Edgeworth broke in, "If you actually saw what the defendant did in Foster Park?"
If Edgeworth was asking a question like that, in such a bristling tone, he couldn't have told Pathos anything. The days of groomed witnesses and edited testimony were long gone.
"Did I see the crime scene?" In a flash, Pathos was smiling apologetically for the court. "The sight of that strange man made me uneasy, and I left the park to find assistance, I'm afraid. I didn't think to look for the lady."
Finally, a slip.
"If you didn't see the crime scene, and haven't paid attention to these court proceedings-" and Phoenix put hands to his hips, "-Then how did you know the victim was a lady, Mr. Pathos?"
His face didn't crumble, his cool aura didn't even flinch: Pathos merely blinked. "I did just hear the 'Grandma Murderer' story on the radio the other day. Forgive me, I shouldn't make assumptions. Is this case's victim a lady ...?"

He was even oil-smooth while playing dumb. Phoenix felt his teeth grate.
"He must know the victim was a lady, Nick," Maya hissed, and she grabbed the bagged Nexus pen like she wanted to whip it up onto the stand herself. "We have proof that he was there!"
"Use what you've got," Foxx agreed.

This was it, then: no turning back.
"This case's victim is indeed Morna Beasley, the 'grandma' from the news story," Phoenix said. "But I think you know that already, Mr. Pathos. In fact, I think you were at the scene of the murder, and you were the one running!"
The gallery muttered, scandalized. Phoenix barely heard the hammering gavel - only saw the black flicker across Pathos's face.
"Order in the court!"
"If I may," Edgeworth said, lifting a demonstrative hand, "The defendant and Mr. Pathos have a remarkably similar build and appearance. Since Mr. Lowe was well-dressed at the time of his arrest, the two of them could be interchangeable in witness testimony."
Humming, looking from witness stand to defendant's box, the Judge decided, "Yes, I suppose they could. It would be easy enough to confuse them at a distance."
"Therefore," Edgeworth went on, "Witnesses could simply be confused as to which running man they saw. Mr. Pathos could have been the one running from the crime scene, if Mr. Wright has the evidence to support his theory ...?"
Phoenix did. He lifted the evidence bag, Nexus pen glinting inside.
"Do you recognize this, Mr. Pathos?" The opportunity was too perfect; Phoenix couldn't help smirking.
A twitch pulled Pathos's mouth. He straightened, squaring his shoulders, resettling his hands in his pockets.
"Yes, I do. That's my favourite pen. And I must say, Mr. Wright, if you didn't have a search warrant, I would be most irritated at your taking my things."

Maya looked to Phoenix. "What's this search warrant thing he keeps talking about?"
"Search me," Phoenix muttered.

And then, louder, he said, "So, Mr. Pathos, this is your pen. It uses green soy-based ink cartridges, and green soy-based ink is exactly what was found on the victim's sweater!" Phoenix pointed. "If you weren't at the scene of the crime, then how do you explain that?"
"Are you sure, Mr. Wright?"
No sweat on Pathos's brow, no furious grimace, nothing - his smile didn't change one bit. But if he didn't react to that …. The strength drained from Phoenix's pointing arm.
"I ... uhh. Am I sure of what?"
"Of the ink's composition," Pathos said. "My previous job was an executive position, not part of any large-scale manufacturing. And to my knowledge, soy-based inks are used industrially, not in common pens."
"I- But this pen is a commemorative gift from Nexus Broadcast, the ink cartridges are custom ordered!"
"And how do you know this, Mr. Wright? Testing of the ink in question?"
Now this just wasn't fair. Phoenix put the evidence bag down, fists tightening. "It's public knowledge what type of ink this pen uses! I- I found it on Wikthology!"
"But," and Pathos's tone went cold, "You don't have documented proof of this ink's composition? You're working on coincidence, Mr. Wright? I suppose because the pen's ink colour and the traces on the victim happen to be the same colour. "
"Green is not a common colour for pen ink," Edgeworth broke in. "Particularly pens used in executive-level business dealings. This is a very suspicious coincidence."
"But a coincidence nonetheless." Sliding a cool gaze over to Edgeworth, Pathos went on, "Soy-based ink could be from anything. Flyers, newsprint, perhaps that deck of cards on the evidence table ...? Unless there are test results matching my pen to the traces on the victim … I do hope this respectable court of law won't rely on a database any child could edit."
The Judge blinked, and smoothed his beard. "Publicly edited? My, that explains a lot of what I find on Wikthology. I'm inclined to agree with Mr. Pathos: decisive evidence is needed here, not conjecture."

"But that's ..." Frustration knotted in Phoenix's throat; he growled. "That was our ace! What now?"
"Just keep-"
And suddenly, static crackled in his ear. Phoenix's hand flew to the com link.
"Foxx? Wha- Maya, do you hear that?"
"Phoe- ..."
One last murmur and Foxx was gone, the com link just white noise.
"Sounds like a broken radio," Maya murmured, wide-eyed. "But how could he jam the lines with everyone watching him ...?"

Pathos stood all the way across open court but he watched Phoenix close, his eyes too sharp and smile too pleasant. And his hands stayed firmly in his pockets - he could have anything in there. Pathos was always a step ahead, wasn't he? If there was nothing else to throw at him-

"Frankly," and Pathos shook his head, every motion clawing down Phoenix's nerves, "I don't know why I would be accused of such a vicious crime. I have no reason to wish ill against this Ms. Beasley. I've never even met her."
"You're not familiar with her name?" Edgeworth tried, "Perhaps you've heard talk of an older lady around the Orchard bistro?"
"Chef LaFlamme is the one concerned with politics." And, removing his left hand from pocket, laying it on the stand, Pathos said, "I try to avoid gossip, it's so petty."
"That's understandable," the Judge said.
"Avoid gossip?" Edgeworth pointed a speculating finger. "Are you claiming that you routinely spend time in the Orchard bistro, yet you don't speak with the people in it?"
"Because I am engrossed in my writing when I go there. I believe I've mentioned that several times already. " Pathos canted his head. "If there's nothing else of note ...? I'd hate to waste the court's time."
"Well," the Judge mused, "I don't see anything unusual about the witness's testimony, and if there is no decisive evidence linking him to the crime ... Do you have any further points, Mr. Edgeworth?"
With a long pause - and a desperate stare at Phoenix - Edgeworth answered, "No, Your Honour. Nothing further."
"Mr. Wright, do you have anything to add?"

"We have to have something!" Maya crouched, pawing through both briefcases. "Anything! We know Pathos did it!"
But their information was double-edged: Stewart worked with music sense, and Morna Beasley had invoked it, and Pathos hunted it like vermin. Every clue in Phoenix's arsenal dripped with secret sources and extrasensory knowledge and if it weren't for Agents's secret powers, no, there wouldn't be a thing suspicious about Sior Pathos, would there? No credible witnesses, no hard evidence, not even a murder weapon. Maybe Phoenix could stall - no, he had to - and his mind raced, scratched at the walls and found nothing-
"I-I ..."

At the heart of Agency base Alto, the com room was deathly quiet around Foxx- the alt satellite only carried broadband signals and the backup frequencies crackled dead. The interfering signal was just too powerful for her reroutes to handle. She could strip everything to its code and hack around any signal ever emitted but only if she had that kind of time-
SP says no link to MB, Missy's infrasound chattered, long-short-long in thrumming awareness, team is critical. U got them back?
Another ping to the Special Ops com links - not that it would help, Foxx knew as she watched the loading bar crawl. But what else was there? Think in Morse, think around the throb in her head and jitter her heel with purpose-
No link yet, she told Missy. What more could she say? Even if she could speak to Phoenix and Maya, she was intelligence backup with databases full of nothing.
J's faltering beats - from shoes clutched in his hands - said, Assist them?
Foxx straightened. This was the talented Phoenix Wright they were talking about. But this was the fate of more than a target; this was the Agency and their way of life and everyone they had ever looked out for, everyone they wouldn't be able to look out for if they were exposed today.
Target is in public, and SP senses, she tapped.
N/m!
Section Three-Eighteen of the Agency code wouldn't like it, but Missy was right - Pathos already knew they existed. They had to think bigger. Queasy courage moved Foxx's fingers on the keys, hitting sequences she knew like names. If she couldn't be intelligence, she could still do her job. She swallowed.
"All Agents, come in," she said, "Priority red."
"Hey, Foxxie."
"Read you."
"On my way!"
"Hello, is it me you're lookin' for?"
Morris, Derek, Starr, and Spin answered her: friends and family and life itself. Link the band frequencies, adjust the buffers, don't think about the distance logistics or her hands would shake harder-
"We need backup, team," Foxx murmured. This was a mission, any mission and every mission, rallying a team and ignoring the odds. "The courthouse, middle-east side. Target is Mr. Wright at the defense bench. Missy and J have visuals."
"Reporting."
The voice of reason - something near a smile warmed Foxx's face. "Chieftain," she answered. "Any suggestions?"
"Don't think. Just feel."
For once, Foxx was going to truly listen to him. "Ten-four." She pushed her chair back, stood and circled her desk; she shivered and burned inside and she tapped: Tri assist. Lead us in.
4/4 time, PW desp, u know him, Missy said, tangled and garbled with J's hurry!
Starr swept in then, blonde and red and sure; she took Foxx's flank, familiar but backward because she always led.
"Okay, ready." She smiled in Foxx's peripheral vision. "Go for it."
Because Foxx could feel Phoenix already, the bristling brace against his stand and the fire he flew with, and the sheepish way he smiled. The resounding open court, and lies too sturdy to break but Phoenix stared blue-hard and piano built higher, resounded in Foxx's veins-
"A-All right," she said. "Alpha set. Four-four time."
She squared and stood taller, shifting in time with Starr and with all of them.
"Are you ready? Three, two, one."