In Brief
Perry Mason looked around the courtroom, his dark eyes locking with the jurors, before turning back to address the bench.
"Your honor, while my specialty is criminal law, my client, Kane," Mason looked back at the man behind the claimant's table, "has hired me to process his lawsuit for slander against Hunter Hearst-Helmsley, better known in professional wrestling as Triple H."
At the table, Mason's loyal secretary, Della Street, squeezed Kane's arm sympathetically, feeling his rippling muscles through the carefully tailored Giorgio Armani suit the wrestler was wearing.
Looking at Triple H, who was seated in the witness box, Mason began his interrogation.
"Triple H, on the Raw broadcast on October 7, did you or did you not publicly accuse my client of the murder of Katie Vick?"
"Yes." Triple H looked smugly at the jurors. "I got access to -- "
Mason cut him off. "Just answer the question."
"Then on the Raw of October 14, did you or did you not make your accusations public once again?"
"Yes."
"Now, you received this information from a police report, did you not?"
"Yes."
"However, you did not make the entire contents of this report public on the 7th, nor did you disclose those facts on the 14th." Mason was on a roll. "Instead you chose to selectively misstate the information."
"No . . ." Triple H, spluttered, "I told everything that was in that report! It's public record." In anger, he stood up, planning to jump the world-famous attorney.
"Sit down, Mr. Helmsley," ordered the judge. Turning to the bailiff, he added. "If the witness becomes belligerent again, you may take whatever steps necessary to keep him in line."
The bailiff nodded, and eyed several Superstars seated in attendance who were prepared to exert a positive influence on the reluctant witness.
Mason walked to the counselor's table and picked up a copy of a police report.
"Your honor, I would like to admit this into evidence. It is a copy of both the police and coroner's reports on the death of Katie Vick." He held the copy for the judge's review.
The judge nodded and handed the papers back to Mason.
"Triple H," Mason continued, "in any traffic accident resulting in a fatality, a criminal investigation is immediately conducted. That's standard procedure. Would you care to read the results from this report aloud to the jury?"
Triple H folded his hands against his chest, refusing to take the proffered paper.
Mason smiled, fully aware that he had the witness on the run.
"The police report states," he turned to the jury, "that Kane was exonerated from any culpability in the death of Katie Vick. The evidence was conclusive that the accident was caused by hydroplaning on a rain-slicked road."
Triple H squirmed slightly, but still kept a sneering expression on his face.
"You also accused my client publicly of having necrotic relations with the decedent, did you not?"
"Yeah, so . . . it's all in the report -- "
"Your honor, I have taken the liberty of having an expert in forensic medicine -- Dr. Quincy, the world-renowned coroner from Los Angeles -- review the autopsy results. Based on his extensive knowledge, there is no question that had what Triple H accused my client of doing actually happened, the coroner conducting Katie Vick's autopsy would have also known that fact. Post-livid bruising and temperature variance in the ejaculate would have proved beyond doubt those facts. So, in fact," he turned back to Triple H, "you attempted to slander my client's good name. All in an attempt to keep Kane off-balance before your match at No Mercy."
The normally verbose Triple H said nothing, but his pent-up rage at Mason and Kane were palpable.
"Do you have anything to say in your defense, Triple H?" asked the judge.
"Yeah," he began, "it's a freakin' soap opera. It's sports-entertainment, for chrissake!"
The judge looked sadly at him. "Triple H, the fans will readily accept that a man can be burned over 70 percent of his body and need to use an electronic voice box to communicate, and yet through skin grafts and some unknown technology he'll only now need to wear a mask. That's made-for-TV drama. But when you start with a plot that would have been outdated in the days of Gorgeous George and Bobo Brazil, you can expect your audience to be turned off. If you want to play in the real world of soap operas, then you'll have to abide by those conventions."
The judge looked at the jury. "You're charged to decide the outcome of this case . . ."
"Your honor," the jury foreman stood. "We don't need three days or three minutes to deliberate this case. We're all in agreement that Triple H is guilty." He looked at his fellow jurors before continuing. "Not necessarily of slander -- we agree with his claim of sports-entertainment. We charge him with the greater crimes of overacting, implausibility and not giving his audience credit for their intelligence."
Case closed.
Author's Note: No characters are mine. They belong to their owners, and now that I've finished playing with them, they can have them back.
