Episode 1–4: Make No Mistake

August 4. 10:01 PM. Building 201. Phoenix's Apartment.

"And your sure?" Pam paced the floor, the moon shining through the apartment window. Her brother had already gone to sleep, so she was trying to keep her voice down. All the same, her tone was urgent.

"Of course I'm sure! When am I not sure?" It was a little hard to hear the person on the other end of the line, but she certainly sounded a bit miffed. "I've never told you wrong before. My information is always 100% accurate. A Mitnick is never wrong!"

"Sorry, Stacy, you're right. Of course you are." Pam sighed, sitting down on her couch. "I'm just stressed. I don't want to jump the gun on this case. And I know this is dangerous for you, so I owe you one."

"I understand. Don't worry, I'll send this stuff over to you via text asap. You can buy me pizza when I see you next. As a thank you." Stacy was quiet for a moment before speaking. Her voice was much softer. "Hey, how are things going over there? Found anything about Kent's murder?"

"Well, I have found one thing, but I can't ask you to investigate it, at least not yet. I'm already getting you in enough trouble as it is."

"You got that right…" Pam heard Stacy typing something, and then a long sip of what was probably an energy drink. "Things have been a little slow here. Seems like Kent was pretty private online. It's taking me longer than originally thought to find anything. Don't worry about me, though. It's worth it. Anything to help a friend. If you need, I'd be willing to look into whatever you need."

Pam shook her head even though she knew Stacy wouldn't see. "No, not yet. If I still haven't found anything in a few weeks, I'll try to let you know. I don't want those idiots on your tail again. For now, what you've done is enough. It lifts a little stress off my back."

"Of course. I'd cut off my own hands if it meant we could get his killer behind bars."

"Well, let's not go that far. Your hands are pretty valuable."

"Yeah, it's the only part of me that's valuable," she mumbled. "Anyway, next time you call me, don't let it be to call in a favor. Call me and tell me about your day, without the murder bits, please. It's boring here without you."

That got a laugh out of Pam. It was a little loud, and she paused, listening for any sign of Phoenix waking up. He hadn't, which was good, because Pam wasn't sure what she would tell him if he did.

"I will, I promise. I should go, though. I have a busy day tomorrow. If your information is right, then I'll be making my first real arrest in LA."

"I get it. Have a good night. And Pam?"

She was about to hang up, but paused. "Yeah?"

"Kentbé would be proud, you know that?"

Pam swallowed a lump in her throat. Her breathing came in short bursts, and thankfully her brother had gone to sleep. No one could see the small tear run down her cheek.

"…goodnight, Stacy."

"Night, Pam."

August 5. 8:00 AM. Police Department. Forensic Lab

"Wright…Wright…Pamola!"

Pam's eyes shot open, the memories of the previous night darting from her mind. Goodman was in front of her, waving his hand in her face. When he finally got her attention, he stood back with a huff.

"Glad that you decided to join the land of the living, Wright."

"Sorry, sir." Pam shook her head, surveying their surroundings. They were downstairs, in the small forensics lab under the precinct. There were shelves not unlike a morgue, storing the bodies in cool conditions. One body, Carry Fry, was laid out on a table, covered by a white sheet. Other than Goodman, herself, and Otto, there was no one else in the room.

Now that she was fully awake, Goodman walked over to Otto, who was standing by the body. He was still wearing the same getup as yesterday, except instead of sunglasses, he wore lab goggles.

"Otto," Goodman said with barely disguised annoyance. "Tell us what you found out."

"Sure thing, Boss Man!" Otto put on some gloves and uncovered Carry Fry's face. Pointing to her lips, he said, "It was definitely poison that caused Mrs. Fry here to go belly up. We found traces of arsenic in her system, and it was enough to kill."

"So, we can fully reason that she didn't die of natural causes?" Pam asked. She immediately wished she hadn't when Otto sent another wink her way.

"Absolutely, Pams!"

"Don't call me that," she growled. No one seemed to hear.

"Anyway," Otto continued, "the easiest way to consume arsenic is through food or pills. And it doesn't take much to kill someone. With the amount in Fry's system, someone was making sure that she wouldn't wake up in the morning."

"All right. Good work, Otto." Goodman motioned Pam to the door. Otto tried to follow them, but the older detective put a hand on the labbies face and pushed him backwards. "Come on Wright, we have some work to do." They got in the elevator. Goodman sighed as they slowly ascended. "We had to release both Stirman and Dillo last night. If we don't get some concrete proof soon, we won't have much of a case to go on. Any ideas, Wright?"

"Well, thanks to my research yesterday, I found out that Stirman not only works at a company that deals with all things business, but he also has a few connections on the outside. Apparently, Stirman was in the drug industry before he became a businessman." Pam mentally patted herself on the back. "It really wouldn't be hard for him to get his hands on some poison. Arsenic was our cause of death. Mr. Fry wouldn't even have to get it through his job. All he would have to do is talk to his old buddies." The older detective leaned against the elevator wall. He flicked his hat up so that Pam could see his scrunched eyebrows.

"Your…research?"

"I did some digging in my off time last night. We live in the age of the internet." She shrugged, hoping he would buy her teeny-tiny lie. "You can't hide your online past."

Goodman frowned. Pam couldn't tell if it was because he didn't believe her, or if he was concerned about his own online history. He cleared his throat as the elevator stopped. "Be that as it may, Stirman didn't have any opportunity to lace his wife's food with poison. Do you have any ideas on that little problem?"

"A few. I think we need to go back to the scene of the crime. There's someone there that I need to talk to. If I'm right, we'll be able to catch the murderer red-handed."

Goodman glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "You sound confident. Let's just hope that confidence isn't misplaced."

"It's not."

"Sure, but don't get ahead of yourself—"

"It's not."

"All right, all right, sorry I said anything."

August 5. 8:48 AM. Magnanimous Apartments.

"Right, so I have a question for you." Goodman had been quiet on the way up to the apartment buildings, driving their shared squad car. Now he broke the silence just as they got to the door, putting a hand on Pam's shoulder. "You think the girl did it, right? The chef you were talking to that first day, I mean."

A bit upset that she had shown her hand to quickly, Pam's shoulders drooped. "…yes."

"But you have no proof that she did do it, and I doubt it will be an easy confession if she did."

"I disagree. I think with a little pressure, she will crack like an egg and will tell us what she knows." Pam straightened her back and walked through the revolving door. "Besides, I do still find Stirman to be the most suspicious person in this case."

The two would have kept talking, no doubt about exactly who the killer might be, but stopped at the entrance. There was a crowd surrounding the kitchen area. That, coupled with panicked shouting of the people, caused the two detectives to quickly push through the crowd.

"Everyone, make a path," shouted Goodman, his hat getting knocked off in the mayhem. "Police! Move out of the way!"

Thanks to her smaller stature, Pam was able to push her way through the crowd first. She stumbled into the kitchen area, eyes landing on a body. And not just any body. Pam crouched down next to one Lindsey Linch, though she looked much worse for wear. She had bruising around her neck, and her arms had dark handprints showing that someone had held her harshly. There was blood splattered on the floor, but curiously enough, none of it seemed to be coming from Lindsey. Goodman finally made his way through. Pam never took her eyes off the body, but she heard him curse.

"All right, nobody is to move from this area," he ordered, talking to the crowd. "I want all of you to file into the lobby, and not a person is going to move, is that clear?" The muttering got farther away, so Pam assumed Goodman was busily trying to get them organized. She was sure he was going to call the rest of the LAPD to cover yet another crime scene. Making sure to not touch the body, Pam took a closer look.

It was easy to tell that Linch had not been dead for long. There was still a bit of color clinging to her cheeks, though it was fading fast. Her body was curled into the fetal position, as if she was trying to comfort herself as she died. Her fingers were splayed out on the floor, her mouth open slightly. The eyes were always the worst for Pam. Lindsey's were glassed over, brilliant blue now gray. Pam did her best to separate the person from the body now in front of her.

Around Lindsey's lips was a pale, white powder. Pam somehow doubted it was sugar. She sat back on her heels, mind racing. The blood on the floor was minimal, probably not from a large wound. What had happened here? A struggle, between the chef and an unknown third party. They threatened her, perhaps. Pam looked at a small container, spilled onto the floor. Its top was thrown off, and its white content was now making its home on the floor. Pam dragged her hand through the powder, giving it a sniff. No smell. That arsenic theory is sounding more reasonable by the second. Considering how close it was to Lindsey's hand, it wasn't hard for Pam to connect what happened.

Pam stood up, running to the door, and shouting to Goodman. "Detective! I need you over here!" At some point, Gumshoe had arrived. Apparently, Goodman thought he was good enough to handle the situation, so the older detective quickly made his way over.

"Tell me what's going on, Wright."

"I think Lindsey was threatened; just look at those marks. Someone came in here, hurt her, and then left. My guess is it happened a few hours ago. Have any of the people out there said anything about what happened?"

"It's hard to get anything out of that spooked lot. Everyone's telling something different. A few of them swear they heard a bang sometime around 6 this morning, like something fell over. When the a few people came down for an early breakfast…" Goodman shook his head. He looked different without his hat.

"So, someone came in here, threatens the cook…" Pam trailed off, walking to the door on the other side of the room. It must have led to somewhere else in the building. It looked reasonably heavy, and it proved to be when she opened and closed it with a snap. "That would make for a loud bang, wouldn't it?"

"And there's no other exit out of here. They had to leave through that door. Security didn't see anyone come through the main kitchen door, even early in the morning."

"Then Lindsey gets spooked." Pam was picking up steam now that she was on to something. Pointing to the container, she said, "She knew she was in trouble. Perhaps she used that same white substance on the sweet bread, giving it to Mrs. Fry. She knew she was guilty. Maybe the person who threatened her was blackmailing her. She did the only thing she could think of—"

"And if that stuff is arsenic, then we can guess what happened next," Goodman finished darkly. "A lethal dose of that coupled with shock could certainly kill someone very quickly. Her death probably only took a few hours. But that leaves one question. Where is the person who threatened Ms. Linch?" Pam's eyes wandered to the heavy door.

"I have a hunch as to where he went."

"Stirman. You think it was him?"

"Maybe. There's only one way to find out. You go up to check his room. I'll go through the back and make my way up there. If he left behind any clues, I'll find them."

"I don't like splitting us up," he mumbled, "but you're right. He's too full of himself to run off, even with his wife's money. If he's not here, it shouldn't be hard to track him down. Just be careful. He could be armed."

Pam nodded, taking off through the heavy door. The hallway was filled with carts for carrying food. It looked like this was a storage area. Pam pulled her gun out of it's holster, slowly walking up the halls for any sign of Stirman. It had to be him. He had to be the murderer. Perhaps he didn't outright stab his wife, but he had a hand in all this. She just knew it.

There were a few emergency exit doors, but all of them led to fenced in areas, none of which she thought Mr. Stirman would be able to climb. Besides, the man had an ego the size of the apartment building. He was too prideful to run. A bit more walking got Pam to a staircase next to an elevator, perhaps for quick room service. Nearby was a trashcan, a bit of white cloth sticking out, dripping with red liquid.

Wait, red?

She tried not to touch the cloth, but a quick look told her it was definitely blood. Sure, it could have been from an untimely cut in the kitchen, but it was better not to take chances. Pam grabbed one of the nearby napkins, carefully taking the towel out of the can. There was a good amount of blood on it, still a bright red color. Pam put it to the side, taking the lid off the trash can and peering inside. There was a piece of paper, equally as bloody. On it was neat writing, and wouldn't you know it, it was addressed to none other than Stirman Fry.

Pam set both the towel and letter on a nearby table, quickly running up the stairs. Now she was even more confident that Stirman was the cause of all this. Every now and then she would see drops of blood on the floor, and she followed it like a hound. The stairs were steep. Pam was winded when the blood led her to the 15th floor. Despite her lack of breath, Pam smiled.

She stepped to the door, but paused. There was a sound, like that of a scuffle. Two men, from the sound of it. She heard Goodman curse, the sound of something glass shattering, and finally heavy footsteps. Whoever was running was coming her way. Pam took a step back, gun pointed toward the door. She had just turned the safety off with a click when the door was pushed open. A disheveled Stirman Fry stared straight into the barrel of her gun.

"Freeze," she said, voice icy. "This is a warning. Hands where I can see them."

"Right, right, o-of course." Stirman slowly raised his hands. His nose looked crooked, and it seemed to slowly be leaking blood. Pam didn't take her gun off him, glancing at Goodman. He was getting up from the floor, his usually white coat dirtied.

"You all right, sir?"

"Yeah, never better." Goodman sounded winded, but at least he didn't look hurt. The detective looked up, his eyes going wide. "Wright, watch him!"

Pam's gun had wandered just a little bit to the right, a rookie mistake. Stirman took her moment of weakness and pushed her aside, dashing down the stairs. Pam's back slammed into the rail banister, her gun falling to the ground as the breath was knocked out of her. She bent over, coughing. He's getting away! Still struggling to breathe, Pam raced after him, jumping down the steps to catch up.

Stirman moved as quick as Pam, adrenaline causing him to stay just ahead of her. But she was fast too. A few times she would reach out, almost able to grab him. He would dart away just in time. She kept falling behind. It was only serving to make her angrier. At one point, he was a halfway down the next flight of steps. Pam climbed up the railing, filled with an insane amount of courage. With a yell, she leapt off the railing, sailing through the air and slamming into Stirman on the other side. He fell with a scream, and the two tumbled down to the bend of the staircase. Pam felt her ankle pop. She bit her tongue, ignoring the pain and instead focusing on getting Stirman on his back.

Once he was caught, the fight seemed to drain out of him. He moaned as she tugged his hands behind his back, slapping on a pair of handcuffs. Pam was just catching her breath when Goodman finally caught up to them, her gun in his hand. He helped her pull Stirman up, glaring at him as he told the man his rights. Pam winced, her ankle sending tiny waves of pain up her leg. She hoped she had just twisted it. She didn't have the money to fix a broken bone.

They made their way down a floor, then took the elevator to the lobby. By now, a couple dozen cops were getting testimonies from the crowd. Pam could see someone rolling the body of Lindsey Linch out on a stretcher, sheet covering her.

Goodman handed Stirman over to another officer before turning to Pam. She took a few steps back, confused at the anger on his face. The older detective pointed a finger at her.

"Wright, that was a stupid move. You should have never taken your eyes off the suspect! And don't get me started on how stupid that jump was!"

"I was making sure you were all right!" she shot back. "You could have been injured, or worse. I'll agree that my jump may have been risky—"

"Unless I was bleeding out, the suspect should have been taken care of first."

Pam was ready to keep going back and forth with Goodman. Just because he was bigger and older didn't scare her. But her words got lodged in her throat. She was thrown back in time, back to New York, to the one time that she wasn't watching her partners back. When she thought he had just gone down, that he would stand back up soon.

After all, people who were bigger and stronger than you…weren't supposed to get hurt. They weren't supposed to die.

Pam looked at the ground, studying her shoes and trying her best to keep her emotions at bay. Goodman stood in front of her, silent, finally letting out a deep sigh.

"All right, we'll…continue this later. This place needs to be cleared out. Come on, we need to get back to the precinct…"

August 5. 9:34 PM. Building 201. Phoenix's Apartment.

Pam took another bite of her sandwich, savoring Mia's superior cooking. She, Mia, and Phoenix were all eating in the tiny kitchen. Mia had heard about her first case coming to a close and had made some special paninis for the occasion. As payment, Pam had been telling the two of them the story. Phoenix had the sandwich halfway in his mouth, staring at his sister with wide eyes.

"Well?" he asked. "What happened next?"

"We took Stirman back to the station. We interrogated him, but he did a pretty good job of keeping his mouth shut. The trial is scheduled in two days. I have no idea who the prosecutor will be."

Mia tapped her chin, frowning. "It will be a hard trial. Without that chef, you don't have any solid witnesses. No doubt this Stirman is guilty, but I'm not sure if that will be enough to convict him."

"Ah, but I haven't finished yet," Pam said, taking a sip of water. "Remember that bloody towel and note in the trash can? It was written to Stirman, and Ms. Linch was the author."

"Mhwam iw sway?"

"Chew with your mouth closed, Phoenix," Pam scolded. "I'm getting there. Lindsey had written it to Stirman, saying how much she loved him, how he was her only friend in the world. She said she wanted to be with him. She would take nothing less than marriage. Stirman went downstairs after receiving the letter. It just so happened that she was the only chef in the kitchen. They had an argument. At some point, Stirman had tried to strangle Lindsey, and she broke his nose in response. He must have threatened her, then left. He threw the bloody towel over the note, hoping no one would see it until he could come back later and burn it."

"And with that evidence," Mia finished for her, "it would be quite easy to convict him of murder."

The two women nodded, continuing to snack on their sandwiches. Phoenix looked between the two of them, nose scrunched up.

"Wait, but what happened?"

"What do you mean, Phee?"

"With the murder of Carry Fry! Did Stirman kill her after all?"

Pam rolled her shoulders, sighing. "Well, there's no way to know until two days from now, if the prosecutor is good. I have my own personal theory."

"And what would that theory be?" asked Mia, leaning forward on the table. Her eyes were sparkling. Pam guessed that she had the same idea.

"I think Stirman was the mastermind. He thought a lot of himself, and his looks. It was easy to charm younger, more beautiful girls. He got Lindsey wrapped around his finger. His wife, Carry, was in the way of him marrying someone younger. As a bonus, if he got rid of Carry, he would stand to inherit quite a lot of cash. He got some arsenic, ground it up, and gave it to Lindsey, giving her instructions. She was to put it on the sweet bread, and then it was brought to their table. Ms. Dillo didn't eat any of it, and Stirman could have scrapped the worst of the arsenic off the top. They all would have been sick, but Carry would be the only one close to death.

"After that, Lindsey tried to contact Stirman, asking for him to marry her. Once he refused, I believe she told him she would talk, and that's when he strangled her. Once he left, she felt hopeless, enough that she felt the arsenic would be her only escape. She may have wanted to tell the truth, but she also still loved Stirman. My guess is that she did the only thing she could think of, which was taking some of the arsenic herself." Pam took another sip of water. "We had two murderers in this case. One was Stirman, the one who supplied the poison, and the other was Lindsey, a lovesick girl who made a fatal mistake."

"I see…" Phoenix trailed off, setting down the rest of his sandwich with a sigh. "That's…awful."

"Yes, but at least you were able to catch the person responsible." Mia stood, gathering the dirty dishes. "I hope you don't blame yourself for what happened to that girl."

"Of course not," Pam said, tucking that piece of hair behind her ear. The sandwich, which had tasted so good seconds before, now soured in her stomach. "You can't control every variable, after all. We were going to ask her questions. We just didn't make it in time."

The atmosphere had taken a considerable turn for the worst. Thankfully Phoenix, in his usual buffoonery, quickly gave them a better conversation topic.

"Well, I'm proud your first case here went well…relatively speaking. I hope the department knows how lucky they are to have you on their team."

"Yeah," Mia said with a smile. "Maybe with you there, the police can be halfway competent."

"Thanks." Pam forced a fake grin. She just couldn't stop thinking about how angry Goodman had been. He'd barely talked to her at all. She wasn't sure he wanted to see her. Maybe she could soften him up. He was still missing his hat, after all. "You should get going, Mia. You've been here a long time. Thanks for the food."

"No problem. You're right, though. I have a lot of work to do at the office." She pointed a finger at Phoenix, trying to look menacing. It didn't work. "And just because you had a successful first case, that doesn't mean you can be lazy. Make sure you get to work on time, got it?" Phoenix saluted, spine straight.

"Yes, Chief!"

Pam snorted, putting the rest of her sandwich in the fridge for later. Mia left the apartment, promising to come back soon. Phoenix helped her clean plates, remaining strangely quiet. It wasn't until after she had taken a shower that he said anything.

"Hey," he started, abnormally quiet. "You okay?"

"Sure," Pam said cautiously. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's just…seeing dead bodies, you know?" He shrugged, not able to get his point across. "Look, I just need you to know that you can talk to be if you need to, you know?"

For the first time that night, Pam managed a genuine smile.

"Yeah, Phoenix. I know."

It wasn't as if she could tell her brother anything, as much as she loved him. It was her burden to bear. She didn't need to push unneeded baggage on Phoenix. She was strong. She could handle this.

She had to.

Howdy, howdy. I wanted to explain how I am going to write these stories. Episode 0 was all about my OC, Pamola: who she was, what motivated her, etc. Episode 1 followed the actual Ace Attorney game, but since case 1 is very short anyway, I decided to add a case for Pam on the tail end. Hope that wasn't too out of pocket.

I've decided that between canon cases, I'll put some other non-canon stuff in between. Anything in-universe will be written from Pam's POV, and these non-canon bits will be in other Ace Attorney character POVs. Here's the recap

Episode 0 - Pam's POV (Sort of an OC prologue episode)

Episode 1 - Pam's POV (Larry's case)

Episode 1.5 - ? (Non-canon case)

Here's your hint for our mystery character in 1.5: TLLWNZM. Good luck :)