Your answer spoke to what being a "lawyer" means to you.

It might be my turn to say, "Defense Attorney Phoenix Wright chooses death."

"I did the wrong thing."

"Pardon?"

"In Matt Engarde's trial, when I said he was guilty. It was wrong."

"In point of fact, he was guilty."

"Right. But I shouldn't have said so as his attorney."

"Don't tell me you'll push for a not guilty at any cost."

"No, no. Not at any cost. Never by lying or falsifying evidence. But I should also believe in my client, and keep fighting until the bitter end. That's what Mia always told me."

"The attorneys in your line do seem improbably fortunate in your clients. A great many of them are innocent, at completely improbable odds."

"Well, Mia was the daughter of the Misty Fey, master of Kurain Channeling Technique. Maya is the master of the Kurain Channeling Technique. Apollo and Trucy are amazing at reading tells, and Athena at interpreting moods. I myself have the magatama. Ha, for all that Mia told me to have faith, I've relied shockingly little on faith."

"A bit hypocritical perhaps, but that is exactly my point. What do the merely-human attorneys do when they defend someone who is clearly guilty? They cannot possibly believe in their clients."

"Yet even the clearly guilty deserve an attorney who will do their best, right? That is the foundation of our justice system, that both sides are represented by someone who gives their all. And I failed in that regard. In the end, I did not give Matt Engarde my all."

"Engarde was obviously guilty. He even told you as much."

"And Lana confessed her guilt too. And we both know cases where someone seemed obviously guilty at first glance, and it all turned out to be wrong. Terry Fawles—"

"And me. Heh."

". . . I wasn't going to be the one to say it. Ha."

"Ahem. I see what you mean though. If we rest easy thinking that someone is obviously guilty, and allow that kind of decision-making in a trial, well, sooner or later, a lawyer's judgment of guilt will be flawed."

"Exactly. It's not on lawyers to determine guilt. That's the judge and jury. Our job is to give the best case we can."

"Even if it would let someone guilty and dangerous go free? Matt Engarde killed someone."

"I know! That's what haunts me. Were I to do my job as a defense attorney, should I let him go free?"

"By the time you were personally answering the question of his guilt, Engarde's fate was already sealed. But I won't do you the disrespect of giving that excuse. If your plea made a difference in the outcome, you would still have to make a choice, and live with it."

"And I made a choice, and I'm doing a pretty bad job living with it, ha."

"Heh. It's alright, Phoenix. There were no right answers."

"I know. Thank you."

"But perhaps that is the price you pay to be a defense attorney. For if you have the authority to brand Engarde a danger, and decide on your own to lock him away, well, any other attorney would have decided Terry Fawles was too dangerous to walk free."

"And you, ha!"

"You said it first this time."

"Miles, if I did my best as a defense attorney, would that be betraying you? You've helped me find the truth so many times, even if it meant losing your case. Surely I should be willing to lose my case too, when the truth is on the line. Isn't my job to find the truth?"

"Phoenix, my job is to find the truth. It's not quite the same. Part of the prosecutor's job is to find the right person to prosecute, so there's no contradiction in losing a case when the evidence points to someone else. The defense attorney's job is to be the accused's advocate no matter what."

"Which side are you on anyway? What would you have done?"

"I. . . You know what I chose. The prosecution rests, remember?"

"That was different. You chose Maya's life. What if there was no kidnapping victim at stake? Only you deciding whether your client is guilty or not."

"Then. . . I'm lucky to never be in such a position, as prosecutor. I prosecute those whom I believe to be guilty, and if the evidence points to someone else, I change the direction of my prosecution."

"Ha. I guess you prosecutors are lucky in that way. I may have to defend someone I know is guilty, but you wouldn't intentionally prosecute someone you knew was innocent."

". . . I prosecuted you, didn't I?"

"Oh no, Miles, don't look like that. It's alright—"

"It isn't. You could've been executed."

"But I wasn't, was I? Miles. Stop. Look at me. That's all in the past."

". . . You're right. It was the greatest providence of my life that you were able to stop me."

"That's what I do, haha."

"I'm fortunate I have you to help me find the truth and prosecute the right people. And you likewise, you don't have to fear yourself, alright?"

"Yeah. . . you'll comb through the evidence with me to find the truth."

"Yes. When the prosecution and defense are at war, there is no room for common ground in the two versions of the truth. But when we collaborate in court. . . what emerges as the truth is not simply your judgement, prone to personal biases or your generous heart. It is the story told by the evidence."

"I cannot trust in that for everyone. . . so many times I had to fight tooth and nail, and think through the evidence from another angle. What if I had just accepted your evidence at face value?"

"I do not propose this for everyone, but only for you. Because I know you will have fought tooth, nail, spine, and heart, and only then, when all other options have been exhausted, does the evidence paint a picture of guilt in your mind."

"I. . . Miles. . . ."

"Consider it a note of my confidence and regard in you."

"Miles. . . Thank you. I can only do it with you opposing me, you know. You're someone I know who will take my words in good faith."

"Thank you. And with that, I leave the rest in your capable hands, partner."

Author's notes: Summer of 2020. That was when I played the Matt Engarde case, and I've been warring with myself since then. About once a week I have this exact fight with myself, and if I haven't come to a resolution in over a year, then clearly none is forthcoming. So here it is: on the page and hopefully gone from my head. But will I be at peace, or will I simply infect other minds with this cursed conundrum?

Every time Phoenix says "ha", imagine that he's rubbing the back of his neck and making a hapless face. :)