Summary:
Miles cross examines Polly Yanni.
Friday August 12th 2016 – 11:30 AM
Purohit stood at his designated post and asked the witness to state her name and profession. She was a middle-aged woman modestly dressed – a blue sweeter and black pants. She said, "I am Polly Yogi. I am a yoga instructor."
The Judge and the prosecutor segued into the next phase – the one that Miles and Gregory waited for.
"So. I was home as usual. Baking brownies and waiting for my nightly seminar. When I heard booming footsteps rushing up to the third floor. 'My, someone's in a hurry', I thought to myself. Then I heard loud bangs on the neighboring door and a woman screamed! I called the police instantly! Then barricaded myself in the bathroom."
One of the de facto strategies – unrecognized by most courts as it truly was an underhanded play – was to press on every fact and statement until a thread of lies formed. It was coined as 'badgering the witness' and it was correctly called out when abuse. Miles did not use this strategy: it was primitive and akin to monkeys flinging feces until something stuck.
Instead, he knew exactly where the contradictions resided and where to apply the pressure. It was called being thorough and knowing the facts of the case just as well as the prosecution.
The obvious lie as followed: She was not a yoga instructor, she sold marijuana infused desserts; this didn't matter and Miles couldn't care less. She left out the part where she pulled Yanni away from witnessing White. That is the critical omission that needed exposed.
"Mrs. Yogi, where was your husband during this time?" Miles asked.
"Objection," Purohit yawned, "Is there a point to this?"
"Of course there is. If she heard it then her husband did, too." Miles reasoned.
". . . True. I suppose." Purohit shrugged. Can you at least pretend to care about this trial?
"Objection . . . overruled?" The Judge was equally bewildered by the blasé attitude of the prosecutor.
"I took him in the bathroom with me." She answered.
"And before then?"
"Obje –" he yawned again, "Excuse me. Objection. Your honor, Mr. Yogi's mental state is questionable. I have his medical records. He lost a lot of his cognitive functioning due to severe oxygen deficiency and PTSD after being trapped alone in a darkened elevator for five hours."
"Oh my! When did this happen?" The Judge asked.
"Fifteen years ago. In this courthouse. He was a bailiff here." Purohit answered.
"Oh! That's where I knew that name from. That was . . . him, then." Gregory recalled a bailiff with that name – although they were never close. "There was an earthquake here. We were already outside when it cut the power in the courthouse, do you remember it?"
". . . I do. A little." Miles nodded. He is going to play it as if Yogi has no cognitive ability and cannot be trusted as a witness, then.
"From then on I always took the stairs. Who knows what could have happened in that elevator?" Gregory said.
"I . . . cannot imagine it." What may or may not have happened then does not change the fact that we fell for Purohit's trap. He knew we would go for his alternative witness and found a way to discredit it. We have other moves, of course . . . but is it safe to use them now?
"Does the defense have a good reason to bring Mr. Yogi in to testify?" The Judge asked, "Abusing the witness, especially one who has health issues, for a lead is not looked well upon."
"Well, any ideas, Father?" Miles asked.
"It's a risky gambit. We should stay with Mrs. Yogi for a few more minutes. See if she actually saw anything."
"And if she was ordered to lie?" Miles asked.
"Then we need to expose the lie." Gregory stated.
"No. Your Honor. Not at this time." Miles answered the earlier question.
Purohit dozed off into the ether and Miles asked, "Miss Yogi. You were baking brownies at the time you heard the commotion outside. Did you look out the window or the door to see who was causing a the disturbance?"
"I would never have put myself in that kind of danger." She said. "I called the police then the office as soon as I heard it all. I swear, I been calling them all week long! Those sisters are noisy!"
"What was your husband doing during your phone calls?"
"Oh, he was sitting with Polly." She said.
"He was – come again? Is your name not Polly?" Miles asked.
"Oh! Polly the Parrot, silly! I'm Polly the wife and he has a parrot named Pretty Polly." She explained.
"That is – um – nice. When he sits with Polly the Parrot, what does that activity entail?"
"Objection due to relevancy. The defense is grasping and he knows it. Let us imagine a parrot that sits with his owner. What does that mean? It means the parrot sits with his owner. Nothing else."
"Well, it does seem intuitive." The Judge agreed.
"Then let me rephrase. Who was sitting? The bird or the man?" Miles asked.
". . .Oh, you know what? Neither of them! Pretty Polly was flying around the room. Yanni was trying to catch Pretty Polly. It's a game. She gets excited when my brownies are stewing! Hehe!"
Do not tell me you feed the bird your brownies. . . It's poisonous to them. Miles asked, "And did Pretty Polly ever roost near the window?"
"How did you know?" She exclaimed, "Are you a mind reader?"
Well, this was certainly not the direction I expected this to go in.
"If Polly the Parrot roosted at the window, does that mean Mr. Yanni Yogi was sitting near the windows at the time of the attack?" Miles asked.
"Hmm."
"Objection . . . We already decided not to ask Mr. Yogi to the stand. Please keep that in mind, Mr. Edgeworth."
"I am not asking on his behalf." Miles stated. ". . .Mrs. Yogi, when you completed the calls, where was your husband and the parrot?"
"Um. By the window."
"And you took him to the bathroom for safety. Which means you would have been near the window as well." Miles explained. "Did you see anything when you collected your husband?"
"I . . . um . . ."
"Mrs. Yogi?" The Judge asked, "Did you see anything at the window?"
". . .Hmm. Maybe if I talk about it, something will jog? I was really scared and my brownies were burning by the time we heard the police sirens."
"Very well. Mrs. Yogi, please testify to the events after the phone calls were made." The Judge requested.
"Okay! So . . . like. I went by the window like you said. I was focused more on my husband . . . He said something – a 'suite of diamonds'. Then Polly repeated the phrase and has kept saying it. Since she keeps saying it, Yanni keeps saying it. It's a vicious cycle, really."
"A 'suit of diamonds'? Do you know what this phrase means?" Miles asked. You're missing a descriptor, Mrs. Yogi.
"Hmm. Well. There is a deck of cards that he sometimes plays go fish with. Pretty Polly is good at that game, hehe."
". . . And what is the color of this deck?"
Purohit laughed, displaying some emotion, "Objection. Dear me. You seem to have long traveled of the beaten path. A deck of cards? A 'suit' of diamonds. None of this has anything to do with the perpetrator."
"Then why would Mr. Yogi say it as the murder took place? Do you not find it odd, Mr. Purohit? A 'suite' or a 'set' could be misconstrued for a 'suit' or 'formalwear' – Are we absolutely sure we understand this part clearly? Which is more likely that Mr. Yogi was describing at that moment? A deck of cards or someone's clothing?"
"To a fully cognitive person, clothing. To a person with cognitive malfunction, who knows?" Purohit said.
"Mrs. Yogi. Did Mr. Yogi state anything in addition to this 'Suit of Diamonds'?"
"Hmm. Purple! A 'purple suite of diamonds!' It does have a romantic ring to it, now that I think about it." She answered.
"And what is the color of your deck of cards?" Miles asked.
"Uh. Red. We have a standard red deck at home." She confirmed.
"Well, it occurs to me that Mr. Yogi may have more cognitive function than you would like us to believe, Mr. Purohit. If Mr. Yogi was indeed depicting a person in a purple suit adorned with diamonds, that description would completely conflict with Miss Ruby Frost's entire outward appearance."
"Then we would need to listen to Mr. Yogi's testimony, as he might be the only one who witnessed the murderer." The Judge said. "Prepare Mr. Yogi and report back in half an hour."
"Or it is possible that red looks like purple. Mrs. Yogi was not at all paying attention to her husband or Polly. Um. Pretty Polly, the, uh, parrot. For all we know, they were playing a game of suites and the cards were utilized."
"That is conjecture – what he stated is fact. And the most obvious conclusion is that he spoke of a man in a purple suit." Miles argued.
"I agree with the defense on this," The judge said, "if there was a possibility of another person involved, we need to identify this man."
"As you wish, Your Honor." He nodded to Mrs. Yogi, "Thank you for your time, Madam."
"Oh. You are a sweet soul, aren't you? I will give you some of my dessert for free!" She said as Purohit helped her down.
"That will not be necessary." They left. Mr. Purohit did not seem too upset about having to summon Mr. Yogi, even though he fought to deny the chance.
"Well done, Miles." Gregory praised, "You continued our progress and did not lose your temper once. That is an accomplishment."
Miles' eye twitched, but he said gratefully, "Thank you, Father. I wonder what Purohit's next plan is."
"We have to assume he as the same knowledge as we do. He can attempt to manipulate the facts for as long as he wishes, but there is one truth. And we have found it." Gregory encouraged, fully accepting what they discussed yesterday as fact.
"So. The old man saw White, huh?" Ruby said. "A man in a gaudy purple suit of diamonds. Wright still asleep?"
"He was quite exhausted." Miles stated, "Do you want us to try and wake him? We have time before the next cross-examination."
"If you want to let the princess sleep, let him sleep. Oh, and Red?"
"Yes?"
"You ain't half bad out there. Looks like Wright knew what he was talking about. He must've gotten pointers from you all this time, huh?" Ruby joked, trying to ignore her own pain.
"Actually. Wright and I have not spoken until just recently. Whatever he learned, he did so elsewhere."
"Oh? Is that right?" Ruby shrugged, "I guess I shoulda asked him more about his personal life. But if he didn't learn all those things about law from you, where did he?"
". . . Ask him later. I am sure that will be an interesting story that you should hear from him. And only him." Miles deflected, knowing only a few of the lies upon lies that Phoenix and Ruby exchanged. And he was not going to be the mediator of that.
"Kay." She nodded. She and Gregory talked about something, but Miles wanted to know how Phoenix was doing. He made his way to the defendant's lobby, and saw Ray out looking at the snack machine.
"Highway robbery! Someone oughta take the court to court, eh Miles?"
"Let me guess? $10 for a Cinnaroll?"
"Ugh. Yeah. Rip off." He grumbled. Miles went into the privacy room and saw Phoenix asleep, now completely stretched out on the couch. Miles could not help himself – he took out his phone and found the camera mode.
"Let's see how you like your picture taken unaware, Wright." He took a single shot, but rapid mode was enabled somehow, so it took ten in a row. Miles shrugged then reviewed it. All of the images came out blurry, or flared, or with a streak down the center.
Miles muttered, "Is there something wrong with my phone's camera?"
Is it a coincidence? Every photo of Phoenix I've seen thus far all come out marred or defected. At first, it was just that film roll was exposed to too much light, or was stored at the wrong temperature, or possibly chemicals in the darkroom leaked into the canister. Then his ID cards also had some strange imperfections. And now my camera . . .
It has to be just a coincidence. The lighting is poor in here or the mechanism on my device is damaged.
Miles excused the phenomenon and put his phone away. He probably should focus on the next court phase and not engage in childish diversion, anyway. Ray resumed his post and asked, "What's up, Miles? You got a weird look on your face."
"Just exhausted, Raymond. Thank you for keeping an eye on him."
"There's that formal tone of yours again! Relax, okay?"
"Ah. Yes. Quite. My apologies."
"Someone's gotta knock that autonomous response out of you. Maybe the fugitive – I mean detective – I mean prosecutor can." Raymond joked. Once Miles did not respond, he asked, "I need some fresh air. You good to stay with him for a minute?"
"Yes." Miles answered and felt relief when Raymond left again. He still tensed up when it was just him and Ray . . . He would have to figure out why later. Miles took the chair at a near desk and watched Phoenix sleep. His face was neutral – neither a smile nor a frown formed as he took a pause from the world.
Miles did not think about that earthquake five years ago all that much. When they were outside, the ground shook violently and suddenly. Gregory held him close on the pavement as they waited for the tremor to subside. The entire city lost power – perhaps it hit the powerplant? Regardless, Gregory carefully navigated the darkened streets and they spent the evening reading by candlelight.
If Miles took away anything from that incident, it was that as long as his father was close, Miles would always feel safe.
