Fair warning, there will be some hard times in the future. We're approaching the point where the plot thickens. Will Kenten's plan succeed? What will happen to Danny in court? Will Kenten succeed in killing him? You'll find out soon enough.
Zootopia belongs to Disney. Spider-Man belongs to Sony.
Nick was surprised, to say the least when he saw Danny land on his feet gently with his wife strapping herself to him like a hiking backpack.
"Is there a fee or do you offer free rides?" he asked in an attempt to draw something other than a blank.
"It'll cost you extra; you're fat." Judy burst out laughing at the panther's remark.
Nick fake gasped, laying a paw on his chest - while sticking out his belly to make himself look fatter. "I... am offended." He took his paw off his chest and held it out in an exaggerated show of fanciness, turning his head with his eyes closed and adding rapidly, "I demand an apology submitted in writing."
Nick held his pose while Danny and Judy gave up struggling to contain their laughter.
After a couple minutes of composing themselves, they walked together toward the courthouse. Gazelle couldn't be there, unfortunately; she had a meeting today. While he was greatly helped by the recent levity and the visit to Gazelle's house - not to mention the swinging - he was, well... scared.
As previously, he was directed to sit on the left side of the room, where Weston was already waiting.
"How you feeling today, cowboy?" he asked. Danny responded by shrugging. He just wanted to get this over with, whichever way it went.
The judge made it to his seat and called the court to order. He gave Mr. Fat Panda the floor and he stood up. He walked slowly to the front of the room, grasping several sheets stapled together.
"According to the law, as my opponent is well aware, theft is punishable by law. And yet, in direct contradiction to both law and logic, Mr. Goldfurr asserts - forgive the circular reasoning - 'He's guilty, but he's not guilty.' Which, if I may be so bold, ladies and gentlemammals, demonstrates, I believe, a lackadaisical approach to the very concept of lawful conduct and behavior in a civil society such as ours."
He flicked the stapled packet upright and scanned it, probably for dramatic effect. "I have here, in my paw, testimony given by each of my clients present here today, who have asked me to speak on their behalf at this present time. Your Honor, if I have your permission, I would like to read, for the jury to consider, my clients' descriptions of their encounters with Mr. Arcturus." The judge gestured with his front foot.
Clearing his throat, he began to read. "Mrs. Francesca Ortegen, July seventh of this year. 'I was at home sewing and the lights went out. There was a crash in the kitchen. I tried calling the police, but the phone left my hoof, for lack of a better way to say it, and I was pushed to the floor by someone. It was nighttime. The lights were out so I couldn't see. I was terrified. I was terrified for my daughter, terrified for my own life. I didn't know what was happening and I panicked. I stood up and could make out someone standing in front of me. But it was too dark to see what kind of mammal it was. It was just a shadow; I couldn't tell what it was. But it got close to me and I thought it was going to kill me. But instead it reached behind me and grabbed my purse. It left the kitchen and didn't come back. But I saw all of the things that were in my purse in the trash outside the next day."
Mr. Lorian Biggles, August eighteenth of this year. 'It was very late and I was alone in my office, just, you know, counting some money. I have always enjoyed staying later. It calms my nerves when I'm stressed. There were some crashing sounds outside my office, and then... I don't know how to describe it. The door was smashed inwardly. And this black figure came in on the ceiling, followed by someone on the floor. And they came toward me. So I threw them some money and they left. Oh, and they also took my watch. I called the police but they were gone by the time they had come.'"
One by one, the panda read the statements given by the mammals the cub had taken from. Danny resisted the urge to keep rubbing his chapped lips. He poured a glass of water and chugged it, followed by another, then another, until...
"I have to go to the bathroom," he whispered to Weston, holding his paws (and tail) to his lap.
He chuckled. "I figured; you almost swallowed the whole pitcher." He gestured at Reede. "He's almost done. I'll call for a break after he's finished reading." As expected, Reede concluded his dissertation on Danny's guilt, prompting Weston to stand.
"Mr. Goldfurr?"
"Your Honor, if I may, I would like to request a short bathroom break."
He nodded and picked up the hammer. "We'll take fifteen minutes." He banged the hammer and stood up to descend from the high chair. The mammals in the room began to mill about and leave the room during the break.
"Wes, can I ask you something?"
"Shoot."
"..." He didn't really know how to ask it.
"Yes...?"
"Well, I... hearing all those testimonies, it just... it feels like..." Weston held up a paw. He glanced down at his lap to remind him of his need to answer nature's call. As if he needed a reminder.
"Look, go to the bathroom real quick, and then we'll talk about this."
He took his time in restroom. He didn't want to go back, but knew what would happen if he didn't. After washing his paws, he went back outside where Weston was waiting for him, leaning against the wall with his paws in his pockets. He thought he would be more prepared today. But no, he wasn't. He was just as scared. He wondered how long this would last, sitting at that table, under attack by every mammal he had ever wronged. Well, not all of them, but the most powerful ones. Justice was a painful truth. But if that was the way things worked - crime and punishment, then shouldn't he be convicted? He knew he'd stolen. He had known exactly what he was doing; how could he not be responsible?
"I know where you're coming from." Danny was about to answer but Weston cut him off. "Listen. I didn't become a lawyer to keep bad guys out of jail; I work primarily juvenile cases for a reason."
"And what's that?"
"I don't care much about what you deserve; I care much more about whether or not you want to do better. And..." He pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and pulled up a screenshot. It was a photo of the news story documenting the aftermath of his rescue of that fox family. "...I think you've proven you do."
"But how does that change what I've done?"
Semi-consciously, Weston put his paw in his pocket and gently traced with his finger the edge of a small, wooden cross he always carried around. "It doesn't. But that's why it's called mercy."
"Mercy?"
Before he answered, the bailiff came around the corner. "Time to come back, Goldfurr."
"Listen, we'll talk about this later. Let's get back to the courtroom, 'k?" Danny nodded and followed him, comforted by his paw leading him down the hallway.
Once the court was in session again, Mr. Fat Guy had finished his emotionless recounting of seven tirades against Danny. He was glad that he had taken his break. It would have broken him if he hadn't.
Judge Trumphorn asked Weston to call first witness.
"Thank you, Your Honor. I call Daniel Arcturus to the witness stand. Mr. Arcturus, if you will." Danny would not. Or, at least, he didn't want to. He didn't move.
"Mr. Arcturus, you are required to approach the stand," said the judge.
He looked at Weston, who said softly, "Come on," and waved him forward calmly, though his eyes said, Trust me.
He stood up slowly and tensely walked toward the front of the courtroom. The bailiff held a Bible in front of him.
"Lay your paw on the Bible," he instructed. He did, nervously. "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?" He nodded. "Say, 'I do' or 'I don't'.
"I do," he said evenly. He sat down, facing everybody from the front of the courtroom. He felt much more exposed. He couldn't pretend he was invisible up here.
Weston stood in front of him. "Mr. Arcturus, though it isn't necessarily common knowledge, you are the Black Spider, would you agree?"
"Yes, sir."
"The general consensus of the ZPD, both by eyewitness testimony and by evidence collected in the investigation following your arrest, is that you were under the supervision and/or care of a leopard by the name of Douglass Kenten. Is that correct?"
"Y-yes, sir."
"How did you come into contact with this individual?"
Danny's shoulders lurched subtly. Very subtly. But it was his sudden grimace, disappearing as quickly as appearing, that betrayed his distress arising from such a question as this. This was very personal. He was just coming to terms with it, and now he had to talk about it in front of dozens of strangers? In front of multimedia outlets? Surely he was already a very famous - or infamous - panther. He was under the eye of many, many mammals. And the last thing he wanted to talk about was the one event that sent his life spiraling. Well, to be fair, he didn't ask for that specific detail. He decided to leave it out.
"I was living on the streets at the time. I was six. And, um..." he swallowed at the sad memory of his friend "...a hyena named Peter Andrews found me. He was a doctor who worked for Kenten. He took me to live with him and Kenten and his team."
"How were you treated there?"
Danny thought about the question. Truth be told, he was treated relatively well by most of the mammals there, save the Shark. Dr. Andrews and John, especially, were something akin to family to him, like an adoptive father and uncle. Their deaths still affected him. He thought about them every day.
"I... Most of the mammals there... they treated me all right. But Kenten, he... he always seemed ready to kick me out. His nickname for me was 'liability.'" Even after all this time, he still couldn't help but slur the word with a measure of disdain.
"Liability, how so?"
"I object, Your Honor." The panda stood up. "Mr. Goldfurr is leading the witness on by a tangential matter."
"Sir," countered Weston, "this is not tangential; criminal psychology is very important in determining culpability in cases such as this, even if it is apparently tangential by parallax."
The judge nodded. "Overruled. Mr. Arcturus, you may answer."
"Th-the, uh... um..." Geez, that panda had him rattled. "C-can you repeat the question?"
"Yes. How did Mr. Kenten consider you a liability?"
"He... he never really... told me how exactly. He just called me that. And I always had this fear that he was going to come and kick me out at any time. It certainly kept me doing what he told me to."
"That's enough for now, Your Honor." Danny sighed and was about to stand. "Your witness," he said to the panda, causing Danny to flinch. He remained in the chair tepidly. No, no, not him. I don't want to talk to him...
The panda, with a pleasant smile, walked toward him, but to Danny he may as well have been baring venomous fangs at him. He began to sweat in anxiety.
Judy, meanwhile, gripped a pawful of her shirt as she observed her son. His eyes were jumping all over the place, and he nervously chewed his bottom lip. Come on, baby, you'll get through this.
Reede leaned his arm against the judge's high chair. "Mr. Arcturus, you have been in Mr. and Mrs. Wilde's care for, I believe, almost a month now, is that right?"
"Y..." he gulped. "Yes sir."
"And how has that gone for you so far, hmm?"
"It's been great. They treat me well."
"Good, I'm happy to hear that. Now, before you were put into their custody you spent a period of two weeks in the custody of the Zootopia Police Department, Precinct One. During that time, you were caught outside of your cell. As witness testimony suggests, you were bending the bars apart to escape." Danny tried to shrink. "Correct?"
He gulped again and nodded.
"I'm going to need you to verbalize your response."
"Yes." He winced, having said it a bit louder than he'd intended.
"I see. What would you do when you left your cell?"
He wanted to downplay it, dumb it down, pretend it didn't happen. But he had sworn to tell the truth, and Weston had already said he'd committed this crime. If you break a promise, don't bother opening your mouth again, because only liars break promises, Gazelle had said to quote her father. There wasn't any point in hiding it. But it still hurt very much to have to do this.
"I would..." he exhaled hesitantly "...take things..."
"What things? From where?"
Danny looked down, wanting to avoid the eyes of the panda's clients. His victims. He knew they were relishing every second of this, desiring to squeeze every last ounce of guilt out of him. He sat in silence for several seconds.
"Mr. Arcturus, you need to answer the question," said Judge Trumphorn. Danny looked up to see Weston, trying to call for help with his eyes. But he only nodded. He groaned inwardly. It was a classic case of jury, judge, executioner. And this was the first step.
He pressed his dry lips together before opening his mouth. He closed his eyes as he said it, trying hard not to squeeze them. "I broke into houses and took from them."
He kept his eyes closed. The verdict was clear. He was guilty.
"No more, questions, Your Honor."
"You may step down," said the judge.
Danny didn't move.
"Mr. Arcturus, you can step down." He still didn't move. "Bailiff."
As soon as Danny felt the rhino's hoof touch him, he stood up and pushed past him, briskly walking through the gate toward the door.
"Mr. Arcturus!" called Trumphorn.
"Danny!" said Weston.
Judy and Nick, standing up, watched as he exited the room. "I'm sorry, Your Honor, my client is very distressed. I'll go and talk to him." He, along with Nick and Judy, left the room.
After over five minutes of anxious searching, Weston opened the door to the restroom Danny had used earlier, and he heard a small sniffle.
"Danny?" he asked softly.
He didn't answer. Slowly, he stepped toward the single stall. It was open. He pushed it inward. The cub was curled in on himself on the toilet seat, shivering, his head between his knees, arms hugging his thighs.
Weston, for the first time, didn't have anything to say. He'd never dealt with a client who was as broken about the things he'd done as he was. It suddenly became absolutely clear to him that he had enough baggage to lay on the shoulders of several older adults. Yet... he was still just a kid. He hadn't even started his teen years, gone through that angsty period. He had no system yet to deal with the intense guilt he was harboring. It was no wonder he stuck so close to Judy.
He lowered himself to his knees and put his paw on his shoulder. Danny still didn't respond, but he stopped shivering. Weston decided he should tell Danny how he could find real peace.
"Have you ever heard of the Gospel, Danny?"
He shook his head, still between his knees.
"Well, the Gospel tells a story that happened a long time ago, where God sent His Son into the world because we couldn't be good enough for Him. And He took our punishment so we wouldn't have to experience it..."
A few minutes later, Weston emerged with Danny, still distraught but calmed down. Listening to the story, he had wondered whether or not it was true, that there was a God who could really give him a kind of peace that wouldn't go away.
"Ok, now don't worry about having to testify anymore. We got that out of the way, so just stay seated and relax."
He nodded.
"Danny!" said Nick, walking toward him with Judy as he and Weston headed back toward the courtroom. "You ok, Little Buddy?"
"Of course he is, he's a cowboy, right Danny?" Weston said, shaking his shoulder.
He smiled sheepishly, wiping his eye. "Sorry, guys. I needed a minute."
Judy pulled him into a hug. "It's ok, Dan. You're doing good." He hugged her tight.
Dan. He liked that.
They walked back to the courtroom. Everyone watched the cub return to his seat. He took a deep breath and did his best to ignore them.
"We're ready to continue, Your Honor," said Weston.
"Wonderful. It's time to call your next witness, Mr. Goldfurr."
"I'm making a redirection, Your Honor. I call Dr. Matthew Lapel to the stand, who," he said, turning his head to address the crowd, "I may remind you, unlike me, is an antelope." Some in the audience snickered.
An elderly antelope with glorious, corkscrew-shaped horns stood up in the middle of the audience and carefully (slowly) made his way to the witness stand.
"Can you state your name and credentials for the record?"
Weston had been correct about the antelope's high-pitched, raspy, Southern drawl. It made him sound like he could put coffee with cream and sugar to sleep. "Matthew Lapel, Professor of Psychology, former family therapist and psychiatry consultant."
"You've followed this story for quite some time. And I am correct in saying that you've read the police reports concerning Mr. Arcturus?"
"Yes, you are correct."
"So, given what the police have said about him and what you have observed in the news and by word of mouth, what would you conclude about this case?"
He didn't hesitate to answer. "My conclusion would be, 'Why isn't this Kenten fellow on trial?'"
"Your Honor, I object," said Reede sharply. "How could a child psychologist make a judgment like that from his position in this trial?"
"Please explain your reasoning, Mr. Goldfurr," said Judge Trumphorn.
Weston nodded and addressed the courtroom. "This ties back into the Culpability Clause, specifically the Age of Culpability. It is my belief that Daniel Arcturus, while he has committed numerous counts of theft, was not doing so with violent intent. That is, none of the victims were severely injured physically. And witnesses say that Mr. Arcturus was accompanied by, as Mr. Reede quoted Mrs. Wilmore, 'A tall individual...' probably an adult lion. More interestingly..." he went to the desk and grabbed a sheet of paper. "This is a ledger listing the names of each of Mr. Reede's clients present here today, among a few others who have chosen not to press charges." He lay the sheet on the judge's desk for him to inspect. "This ledger was printed off of Mr. Kenten's own desktop computer. And - I was going to address this later, but I'll address it now - Douglas Kenten was supposedly the CEO of a military contracting firm known as Angle. Upon inspection, no public records were found of any such business as Angle, hence the investigation of Kenten's activities of late. And it is my belief that this, er... "business" was a front for the sake of his alleged criminal activity. My intention is to assert that Douglas Kenten should be further investigated personally as to his role in these escapades and, if current and further evidence is found to implicate him, then to ensure that the charges be placed on Kenten rather than on my client."
"Objection overruled. Dr. Lapel, you may continue."
The panda sat down, scoffing quietly in irritation. Danny smiled with a relieved sigh, glad that he had a lawyer who could contend with the best.
"Thank you, Your Honor." He gestured to Weston to continue his examination.
"Now, you agree that Douglas Kenten should be on trial and not Daniel Arcturus. What makes you say that?"
"I read not only the news and police reports, but I also listened to the boy's own testimony, which you were kind enough to record and send to me." He held up a tape and set it on the desk. "Case y'all want to hear it, feel free. But to answer your question, while he displayed only two signs indicative of Stockholm syndrome, which is a kind of dependency a captive feels toward a captor, he did display many signs related to Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD. Now, PTSD is the classic case of the soldier who returns home from war and ruins his marriage, or a child abuse victim who grows up as a juvie delinquent. It can also occur in patients who have witnessed horrible crimes or brutal murders. Victims with PTSD are usually adults who turn to drugs or alcohol to alleviate their stress. They may also develop habits that are self-destructive or destructive toward others. Or they can develop severe anger management problems or other psychological issues, like depression, or severe feelings of guilt in some cases."
Danny's eyes widened at that. So... his guilt is because of a mental illness? Like, his brain's... broken?
"What would you say to summarize?"
"I think, based on the evidence, it is very possible that Mr. Arcturus has experienced severe trauma that has, up until recently, been left untreated."
"And what, in your opinion, would be the best course of action?"
"Well, first off, we need to establish that something traumatic has happened to him in the first place. My assessment is only an educated guess coming from a mammal who is familiar with the patterns that are generally observed in cases such as this. Mammals in general are relatively impressionable, especially at a young age. If you want them to be compliant, all you have to do is keep them in fear, and they're like putty in your paws, and Mr. Arcturus displays many of the signs that are associated with exposure to such as this. Second, once trauma is diagnosed, treatment options can be made available: counseling, therapy, medication, etcetra."
"And what is the success or fail rate of those treatments?"
"Depends on a few factors. Age, severity of trauma, whether treatment began immediately or much later, other psychological issues... In the case of Mr. Arcturus, I'm convinced that he has actually made significant progress. Your notes of your interview with him - you quoted him quite a bit. He mentioned Judy many times - Detective Judy Wilde, that is. In fact, he wouldn't shut up about her." There were a few snickers.
Judy exhaled, touched that she had been such a strong helping paw to her son. Nick looked down at her and squeezed her shoulder in pride.
"That's enough from me. Your witness."
The panda eagerly stood up and approached the easygoing doctor.
"Now, I'm no psychologist," he began. "But I do know a red herring when I see one."
"I'm not a dead fish, I'm an antelope." The audience laughed.
The panda chuckled, more out of annoyance than in levity. He did not like it when a witness he cross-examined was unintimidated. "What I mean is, I understand you're a psychologist. A very good psychologist, I might add. You've studied the subject for over forty years, have had tremendous success. But this is the legal system. Mr. Arcturus' actions cannot be explained away by the suggestion that he's simply insane..."
"Uh, forgive me, I may have lapsed in my memory. Would you care to remind me where I suggested that he is insane?"
"Well, let me rephrase... see, um..." He stumbled in his words, suddenly regretting that line of argumentation.
"All right, let me define insanity for you," he said, cutting him off. "First of all, clinical insanity and PTSD - very different. Clinical insanity is a broad spectrum of behaviors characterized by an inability to discern - such as not understanding the difference between right and wrong, decent and indecent, or a rectal canal from a hole in the ground."
The audience laughed again. Even the judge gave a little smirk. Danny tried not to snicker as he wondered what the gazelle had been thinking when he'd said he was boring. This guy was great!
As calm as ever, he kept going. "PTSD is different from that. First of all, what it actually is, is a mental condition in which mammals who have experienced a situation they were unable to reconcile in a healthful way, such as war combat or instances of abuse, vent their experience in a manner they can understand. And second of all, while PTSD is also a broad subject, its prognosis is much more promising than that of clinical insanity. Psychology is a dynamic field of study. Every mammal with the same mental disorder has their own distinction in their diagnosis and even distinctions in their responses to treatment. But..." he paused "... as I implied before, psychology is based on patterns. Diagnoses are based on observable behavioral patterns. And Mr. Arcturus' behaviors and thoughts as he described them were highly suggestive of patterns that are observed in patients with moderate to severe PTSD."
"Forgive me, but doesn't that seem a bit... convenient?" rebutted the Fat Guy. "It's clear that Mr. Goldfurr's play here is using psychology to make his case. And to me, it just seems too easy."
"Well, unless this kid had a Master's in psychology, then I would have reason to believe that. But I don't have one. There wasn't any significant implication in his explanation that told me that he wasn't being truthful."
"'Significant?' So, there was some implication?"
"You wanna tell a total stranger your worst memory?" He gestured to the whole room. "We already have a group available." More laughter. Reede was beginning to show his irritation. "Every patient I've ever worked with I've had to spend a great deal of time with to get the full story. Or at least enough of a story to understand their thoughts as best as possible. Some took a few hours; most took years. Treatment is only effective if the patient wants it."
"And did he give an explanation as to what caused such trauma?"
"He did. It wasn't recorded on tape, but Mr. Arcturus gave his attorney permission to allow me to read the full account. Mr. Arcturus elected not to share that information publicly, which he is entitled to do. And, in my professional medical opinion, Mr. Arcturus is not insane. He, to put it another way, is suffering from baggage that he did not know how to process, nor did he have a system in place with proper support that could aid him in sorting out his experiences in a healthy manner. So, he processed the only way he knew how: by venting." He leaned forward, planting his forearms on the stand and looking the panda in the eye. "What he needs, Mr. Reede, is an outlet to help him come to terms with his experience, not jail time. And I can tell you that if you, sir, consider him to be as dangerous as you assert him to be, then jail time is the dumbest suggestion I have ever heard spewed out of anyone's mouth."
At that, the audience applauded.
Reede turned his head to the side, rubbing the back of his neck. He appeared hard-pressed to respond. Dr. Lapel continued, calm but with conviction strong as iron.
"And I might add that, based on what I've learned from the defendant and about this case in general, Mr. and Mrs. Wilde have already provided much of the help he needs. And based on Mr. and Mrs. Wilde's two cents, Mr. Goldfurr's own assessment, and Mr. Arcturus' own testimony, I think he's shown tremendous progress already, despite the circumstances. So I would ask you, Mr. Reede, why are you so intent on breaking weeks of treatment-in-progress that has shown great results, rather than not putting any effort forward in pursuing the mammal who set him in that direction in the first place?"
Now many in the audience were standing and thunderously applauding the antelope's strong words. Some even whistled loudly.
"Order," said Judge Trumphorn, banging his gavel. "Order."
The panda, his eyes moving around awkwardly, hesitated. His lower lip twitched once. The tables had turned. "No more questions, Your Honor." He went and sat down at his table, trying and failing to ignore his clients' glares in his direction.
"This session is concluded for today. We will continue Monday of next week since it is NCD this weekend."
Judy jumped up onto Danny and hugged his neck once they were outside. "YES!" she cried. "I have to find that antelope and tackle him; where is he?"
"Oh, he uh, headed back to the academy. He's got research to do."
"Really?"
"I thought you said he was going to be boring," said Nick. "He turned that courtroom into a circus, and that panda was the clown!"
Weston laughed. "Well, he's boring in the classroom. But when he's giving expert testimony in court on behalf of a defendant, if he feels they're innocent, the very ground shakes."
"I know, I felt it," said Nick.
"We all did!" added Judy. "I think we should celebrate!"
"I agree," said Nick. "Danny promised us that he would take us on a little ride."
"No I didn't!"
"Wait, what you mean?" a curious Weston inquired. He had heard of Danny's webbing power, but he had yet to see it live. He was in for a good show.
Things are really looking up so far. The main conflict is coming up in just a couple chapters so we'll see how that goes. I'll try to make it so you know what the plan is by the weekend.
In case anyone is confused by the wording - since I love using big words, "tangential" means not important to the issue at hand (or paw ;D) or diverging from a more important topic, and parallax means apparent displacement, like when you look at an object from one angle, then at another angle: the difference in appearance between the two perspectives is parallax.
I loved writing this chapter.
NCD stands for Nighthowler Crisis Day, the day that the crisis was officially declared over.
I would like to point out that twice have I received reviews from a "guest account," and twice have I had to use antiviral software to be able to access my docs again. I've had to learn a hard lesson. Both times I thought my data was erased, which was very scary to me. Whoever keeps sending me those fake reviews, I am no longer opening emails with reviews from "guest account." From now on, I am going directly to the website to read them. You've failed, fair and square. So stop trying to put viruses on peoples' computers, whoever you are.
