Episode 2-3: Teamwork Makes the Dream Work

Sept 6. 5:00 PM. Building 201. Phoenix's Apartment.

Phoenix was sitting on the couch when Pam walked inside. He still had his blue suit on. He was careful to not drop any of the food he was eating on the dark blue fabric. He set his plate of pasta down when she shut the door. The tension in his face relaxed.

"Pam! How are you feeling?"

"Like I sat in a room for hours on end." She held up the bag of burgers in her hand. "Thankfully, Gumshoe got me some food. I think it was his way of trying to make up for what his boss did." He'd gotten her food, more desk supplies, and even a nice whiteboard, though she wasn't sure how he knew to get that. Each time he came back in the room, he was smiling, new item in hand. 'Don't worry pal! I'll smooth things over with Mr. Edgeworth! I have to look after my future junior officer, yeah?' Annoying as he may be sometimes, Pam could acknowledge he was at least trying to be nice.

Phoenix frowned, stabbing his fork into his noodles with extra force. "Miles Edgeworth…who would have thought he would change that much?"

"Let's not talk about him right now." Pam sat down beside him, taking a bite out of her sandwich. She took a folder from under her arm and set it on the coffee table. "I'm more interested in what you found out today. First, I'm guessing you'll be representing Maya tomorrow?" He nodded, sighing.

"Yeah. I won't lie. I'm nervous. I feel like everything is against us. If Mia were here…" He shook his head, voice taking on a hardened edge. "Actually, best not to think about it."

"Tell me about today." She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. Hopefully there would be time to comfort him later. Right now, they were racing against time. "What things did you figure out while I was locked away in my tower?"

"Pam, are you sure it's a good idea for you to get involved in this? You've already gotten into trouble with Edgeworth. I don't…" Phoenix sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I don't want you to lose your badge over this. This is my fight, not yours."

"Phee…" How sweet. Pam lightly smacked the back of his head. "I didn't become a cop because it was easy. I want to catch the real murderer. If you think I'm going to let you shoulder this on your own, you've got another thing coming."

"But—"

"I swear I'll be more careful." She held out her pinky, grinning when he looped his finger around hers. "Promise. No more yelling at stupid prosecutors. Besides, technically I'm not on this case, so there's nothing stopping me from helping you." Pam tried not to think about the camera. It definitely had proof on it that she was sneaking around. The pictures were currently hanging in the rest room. If anyone walked in there, her goose was cooked. Maybe Gumshoe would accidently delete the ones on the camera. She could only hope. "Anyway, tell me about what happened. The short version, if you would." Her brother leaned back on the couch, sighing.

"It's a long story, so don't interrupt. Around 9, I went and talked to Maya. I asked if she wanted me to represent her, but she gave me a number for another law office instead. I guess that's fair, considering I've only gotten one case under my belt. She told me about how she was a spirit medium in training—that's what those weird clothes she was wearing means—and that Mia was one too."

"She's a what now?"

"No interrupting!" Phoenix cleared his throat. "Anyway, on the day of the crime, Mia had called Maya and asked her to hold some evidence for her. The evidence was put inside the Thinker clock that Larry gave her. He gave it to Mia after I got him declared innocent. She had recorded the conversation with her sister on her cellphone, which Detective Gumshoe had—" He paused, pulling a plastic bag out of his pocket. In it was a pink phone. "—and now it is in my possession."

"Very sneaky, Phoenix. I'm impressed."

"Grossberg wasn't there at first, but I did meet him later. He's a big defense attorney. Mia worked for him ages ago. He wouldn't take Maya's case, saying that 'any lawyer worth their salt' would stay far away. When I went back to our office, the police were everywhere. I managed to get the autopsy report from Gumshoe and found out where the witness was at, but that was all. Here," He gave her the report, watching as she hungrily read it.

"Immediate death from a blow." Pam handed it back to him, smiling. "That puts one giant hole in their theory that Mia wrote the note."

"That's what I was thinking. After that, I went and talked to the witness, April May. She wouldn't tell me anything, but I saw some pretty strange stuff in there. First, there was something in the drawer. It looked like a screwdriver. I snuck in later and found a wiretap." He pushed a box from under the table, where a picture of the wiretap and other evidence was stored. "The other weird thing was that there were two wine glasses on the table. I think Miss May had a visitor that night. Later the bell boy told me that someone named Mr. White from Bluecorp had left a message for her.

"The thing is, Maya also talked about someone named White. Apparently, he had ruined her mother, Misty Fey, so badly that she ran away from their home. Grossberg said Mia might have been looking into him, and then I started thinking that maybe that's what Mia was working on the day she was killed."

"I remember seeing a date in Mia's planner that said 'RW trial date'. If the man's first name starts with an 'R'…" Pam's leg bounced up and down. "It's making him look mighty suspicious, whoever he is." I've learned my lesson, though. I need proof before I do anything else.

Phoenix put the autopsy report back in the box. "I went back to the detention center after talking with Grossberg, and Maya agreed to let me represent her in court. I know she's innocent. I just have to prove it!"

"Against Edgeworth." Pam felt sick just saying the man's name. She set her food down, her appetite gone. "You do realize that he's not going to play fair, right? And I bet I just made things harder for you with the stunt I pulled today."

Phoenix mused her hair. "I think he would have been just as awful whether you said anything or not. I think our main problem is keeping you out of trouble."

"But I want to help!"

"I never said you couldn't!" Phoenix rubbed a hand through his hair, ruining the style. "But we need to be careful. We're walking on eggshells here. One wrong move, and we both go up in smoke."

"I have a plan," she mumbled, looking at the wiretap photo. "You've gotten everything you need together. But I did some of my own research too. Here." She slid him the folder, watching his face as he opened it. One of his eyebrows jumped up his forehead.

"What is this?"

"It's a case study. I got it from a friend at the precinct." Man, she must be in desperate straits if she was considering Otto to be her friend. She shook her head. "It talks about the effects of blows to the head. If someone is hit hard on the head, it has the chance to affect an area of the brain called Broca's Area. It's the part of the brain that handles speech and language production. So if that part of your brain is damaged—"

"You're saying it has the chance to screw up someone's handwriting?" Her brother flipped through a few more pages in the report.

"That's not all, though. The frontal lobe also plays a big role in writing and reading." Pam propped her feet on the table, inching her shoes off with her feet. "Otto said that in almost all cases, someone with a head injury will have difficulty writing. If they can write, it's messy, sloppy, and usually the letters won't connect well. If the prosecution says Mia wrote that letter, this could put the judge on your side."

Phoenix closed the folder with a hum. "Well, if the Mia's autopsy report didn't confirm that she couldn't have written the letter, then this certainly will." He elbowed her in the stomach, just a little. "How in the world did you manage to get this? You could have gotten into some serious trouble."

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you. I've already been chewed out by my senior officer because of the whole Edgeworth mess." Pam rolled her eyes. She reached into her jacket, pulling out the crumpled room list. "I'll give this little bit of evidence to you after I've shown it to the guy in charge of me. I think it's the only thing that'll get me out of the doghouse."

Phoenix forced out a laugh. "Really, Pamola, you've done enough."

Pam shoved the paper back in her jacket. She made sure to avoid her brother's eyes. "It doesn't feel like enough."
Her brother pulled her into a side hug. Pam closed her eyes, pretending that she was a little kid again. In his comforting embrace, she could almost forget all the mistakes she'd made today.

"I just want you to be safe, too," Phoenix sighed. "I've already lost Mia. I can't lose you, Pam."

"I'm not going anywhere. I made a promise, remember?"

"Yeah. Be careful, Pam. I mean it."

She stood, patting her brother on the head once before leaving the apartment. Pam had made sure her brother was okay and had dropped off the medical report; that was one part of her mission down. She had more information than she did before. Pam would need to go back to the station and do some research on those witnesses. And now she had proof for Goodman, though she wasn't sure it was going to get her anywhere. She knew she wasn't out of the woods yet.

Goodman had absolutely gone off at her once she'd gotten out of her cell. The phone call with him lasted for a solid hour. She was told what an idiot she had been, how childlike she was, and a million other things that hammered home her ineptitude. Pam just had to sit there and take it. Buy the end of the call, her phone was almost dead, as was most of her hope.

He was definitely mad at her again, and she didn't have enough money to buy another fedora.

The room list crinkled as she got back into her car. Pam touched it briefly before pulling out onto the road. Hopefully, it would be enough to convince Goodman that she was on to something. She could only pray it would. But prayers only get you so far…Pam hummed. She felt like someone had just flipped a switch; the ideas started to slowly trickle in.

With a lot of imagination and a little luck, Pam might be able to pull this off.

Sept 6. 7:46 PM. Goodman's Apartment.

Pam paced in front of Goodman's door, pushing the doorbell every other minute. She knew he was there. His white, sleek car was parked in the parking garage. He probably knew it was her at the door, too. Why else would he be ignoring her? She had pulled another stunt behind his back. He probably would be more than happy giving her to some other detective, if only so that he could get rid of her. She twisted the handle of the brown paper bag she was carrying.

He just had to give her one more shot. After this, she would be the perfect little detective. She wouldn't even step a toe out of line.

Maybe her unspoken promise was what made the door open. Goodman was glaring at her through a pair of reading glasses, the day's newspaper rolled up in one hand. He was wearing pajamas. They were white, like everything else he wore. His fedora was still on his head. As soon as he saw her, he went to slam the door shut. Pam jammed her foot in between the door, wincing when he tried to push it closed.

"Goodman, wait!"

"No more waiting," he grunted. She squeezed herself halfway through the door. Goodman grunted as he tried to push her out. He wacked her face with the newspaper a few times, but Pam held steady. "I am washing my hands of you, you hear me? If you don't want to listen to me, then the consequences will be on your own head!"

"I know, but please—"

"Do you have any idea the kind of trouble you would be in if someone found out? You're already in hot water with Prosecutor Edgeworth. He's probably already written a letter of complaint about you! Prodigy or not, you might as well kiss your badge goodbye! I wouldn't be surprised if Gant called me within the hour to—"

Pam pushed her way inside the man's apartment, rubbing her aching foot with her free hand. The momentum caused Goodman to accidently slam his door shut. He growled some curses under his breath before looking at her. That newspaper from before was pointed threateningly at her face. She held up her hands, dropping the brown bag to the floor.

"You can't say anything to me that I haven't already said to myself. I know I got in over my head. I know I screwed up. Just let me say my piece, and after that I'll leave, and you won't have to speak to me ever again." Goodman looked from her to the bag, then pinched his nose.

"You have 5 minutes."

Pam sighed in relief. She leaned against the wall, sliding to the floor. Her eyes still burned from lack of sleep, and she would like nothing more than to take a nap right where she was. "I know that what I did could lose me my job. It was stupid. When I should have been helping my brother through a difficult time, I was trying to prove how great of a detective I was. When I was in that cell, I had a lot of time to think about it. I'd even decided that after I heard my brother out about what he found out today, I would focus on helping him. I was going to drop my insane obsession. But," she pulled a piece of paper out of the bag and handed it to Goodman, saying, "then I found this."

Goodman pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, frowning as he read. "A hotel room list? How is this important?"

"Before I got detained by Gumshoe, I had asked the hotel receptionist if I could get a room list. The witness from before was in room 303. Notice anything funny about that?" Goodman scanned the document until he found what she was talking about. She saw his hands tighten on the edges of the paper.

"Redd White? The CEO of Bluecorp...How in the world—"

"Most small hotels only need one person's name for a room. That's because they only care about the name on the credit card." Pam rubbed her eyes, willing herself to stay awake. "It turns out that big hotels like Gatewater require anyone in the rooms to be listed in the registry. In case of an emergency, the receptionist can print out the room list and hand it over to any first responders, letting them know exactly who is still inside the hotel. It's a safety procedure."

She couldn't stop herself from smiling. Any moment now, Goodman would be admitting her success. The older man glared at the room list as if it had personally offended him. Pam cleared her throat until he finally looked back at her.

"Even more interesting is that Maya Fey told Phoenix that her family was ruined by someone with the last name White."

"Could be a coincidence. White is a common last name."

"But look," She handed him another thing from the bag. It was a copy of the picture she had taken of Mia's planner. "Mia was going to trial against someone with the initials RW. Then, if you look at the list of witnesses Mia was going to interview, you can see that a lot of them have some kind of connection to this RW person. Redd White collects information, which is a nicer way of saying he blackmails people."

"I…see what you're saying. It's a plausible theory. Redd White has been making a nuisance of himself over the years. He's almost as annoying as you are." Goodman ignored her peeved look, handing her back the rooming list. "It's good, Wright. A bit out there, but I think you're on to something. You could probably go to court with this stuff."

Pam jumped off the floor. Her knees popped at the sudden movement. "So you'll talk to Gant about putting me on the case then?" She had done it! It had been almost 24 hours without sleep, but she had gotten Goodman the evidence before the deadline. She was just about to pat herself on the back when her superior shook his head.

"No way."

"W-what? We had a deal!"

Goodman put up a hand. "That was before you decided to make yourself public enemy number one. Miles Edgeworth is not someone you should have messed with. He isn't called the Demon Prosecutor because he's soft and squishy." Pam's hands were curled into fists, her shoulders shaking.

"So, what, I'm just supposed to ignore this and let it go? Mia's killer—whoever it is—will get away with it if Maya is convicted! It has to be Redd White."

"You have no way to prove it was him," Goodman pointed out, walking over to sit in a fancy white armchair. "Maybe if you were on the case, you could. However, seeing as you are not, there's nothing more you can do."

"But—"

"No buts. I admit that without any help from the other officers, you have made a lot of leaps forward with this case. People probably wouldn't think anything about there being another killer. But I'm going to tell it to you straight, Pam. You are jumping to conclusions. Maybe it was White, maybe it wasn't."

"But it wasn't Maya." Pam followed him to the living room, picking up her bag on the way there. "I know it wasn't. Phoenix believes she's innocent, and I do too."

Goodman flipped open his newspaper. "I'm more than willing to believe you. From what it sounds, the sister doesn't have any motive to kill the late Ms. Fey. However, you can't do anything else. I can only see one line of thinking that would save your hide from Miles." Pam's shoulders fell. She remembered her promise. Not a toe out of line. I've already screwed up so much today. I can't afford another mistake.

"Yes sir. I'll do what you ask."

"Now that's more like it. Here's my suggestion. Wrap up that evidence in a nice folder. Drop it off near Gumshoe's desk and label it for Edgeworth. He'll probably deliver it himself. As long as you don't put your name on any of the evidence, it will be received as an anonymous tip."

"But Edgeworth will pick and choose which evidence he wants!"

"And that will speak more about his character than yours." Goodman pointed at the bag with his head. "I'm assuming that has the evidence you've found in it?"

"Yeah, this is everything." She'd taken apart her wall after she had left her brother's apartment, making sure Gumshoe wouldn't stumble on it. The breakroom was back to how it had looked before, excluding the beds. She had been too tired to move those back. "I guess I can get Otto to put it there for me. If someone in the station saw me put it there, I'd be screwed." Pam straightened her back, crossing her arms. "But I'm going to give my brother a copy of everything first."

Goodman was giving her a disappointed look over the top of his glasses. "Detectives aren't supposed to help defense attorneys."

"Seeing as I'm not officially on the case, that shouldn't be a problem."

"Hm…I don't like it, but I'm sure there's no stopping you." He sighed, standing up from the chair and setting the newspaper down on the coffee table. "I guess I should get dressed then."

"You're coming too?" Pam shifted from one foot to the other, a little uncomfortable at the thought of being babysat. "I can do this on my own, sir."

"After what you did today? Fat chance I'm leaving you on your own." His voice was loud as he rounded the corner, entering what she assumed was his bedroom. "Besides, you want to go watch the trial tomorrow, don't you? I doubt Edgeworth will let you anywhere near that court, especially when he sees the evidence Gumshoe will deliver. You're going to need an alibi, a reason to prove you couldn't have been the one to gather that little bag of secrets."

"An alibi?"

Goodman came out of his room sporting his usual look. He twirled his keys around his finger. "First, we'll get a copy of that evidence to your brother. Then we will get Otto to drop off that evidence box. After that," his smile turned sinister. Pam felt an invisible heavy burden on her shoulder at the sight of it. "I believe the Common Evidence Room needs to be organized. As your superior officer, it is my responsibility to make sure you are disciplined for your actions today. I'd say it'll take the whole night for you to get every one of those folders labeled in alphabetical order."

Goodman laughed as a dark cloud of gloom settled around Pam. He put an arm over her shoulder, having to drag her from the room. She groaned, putting a hand on her face. Pam deserved it, she knew that, but she still couldn't help but weep for another night without sleep. If this was what she had to do in order to watch her brother tomorrow, then Pam would organize the room with pride.

Hopefully it wouldn't be too much of a mess.

Sept 7. 9:50 AM. District Court. Courtroom No. 1

"What do you mean I can't go inside?" Pam voice was a low growl. The man in front of her guarded the door to the inside of the courtroom. He had good enough sense to look scared.

"I-I-I'm sorry miss, but Prosecutor Edgeworth—"

"That's detective to you," she snapped, the mere sound of the man's name making her shake with anger. Even though Goodman had told her this would happen the night before, it still came as a shock when she went to enter the room with Phoenix and was denied entry. Goodman put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'll go inside and talk to Miles. He's probably still mad about your little 'joke' yesterday. I'll be right back." He walked inside without any problems. Pam snarled, pacing in front of the door like a caged animal. The guards watched her, eyes wide with terror.

She cracked her knuckles, frowning at their stiffness. In fact, her whole body was stiff. Organizing that evidence room had been no joke. Some of the evidence was in the wrong place entirely, while other's weren't in the room at all. Goodman had made her do it all on her own, sitting back and watching a TV show while she slaved away. A few other officers had come and gone during the night. They all snickered when they saw her moving boxes around. She had to force the shame down, but she couldn't stop herself from blushing in embarrassment. By now, the whole force would know what had happened.

She did not look forward to going back to work when this was all over.

One of the officers walkie-talkies buzzed. She didn't recognize the voice that spoke.

"Go ahead and let her in. And be quick about it, the trials going to start soon."

Pam went ahead and did their job for them. She ripped the door open, trying to look more composed. The crowd was still milling around, looking at Maya, who was sitting in the defendant's chair with her hands in her lap. No one had noticed her come in save her brother, who smiled at her, and Edgeworth, who was trying very hard to hide his disgust. Pam found Goodman, who was waving her over. The seats were crowded, bodies pressed together. Pam squeezed in beside Goodman and an oversized lady. It wasn't the most comfortable seat she had been in, but it would have to do. The trial was starting, and there were no other free seats to sit in.

The judge, an old man with a great white beard and bald head, slammed his gavel down. The chatter instantly silenced as he cleared his throat. Pam saw her brother stand up a little straighter.

"The court is now in session for the trial of Ms. Maya Fey."

"The prosecution is ready, Your Honor."

Phoenix put one of his hands in his suit pocket. Pam intertwined her fingers, wishing him luck. He was going to need it. "The defense is ready, Your Honor."

The judge nodded, setting his gavel down on his stand. "Mr. Edgeworth. Please give the court your opening statement."

"Of course, Your Honor. Ms. Maya Fey was found at the scene of the crime. The prosecution has evidence that she was the one to commit this murder."

Not if you looked at the evidence I gave to you. Goodman put a hand on Pam's shoulder, sending her a warning look. She breathed out through her nose, leaning back in her seat.

Edgeworth continued talking, voice haughty. "We have a witness who saw the murder take place. The prosecution sees no reason to doubt the facts of this case, Your Honor."

"I see. Mr. Wright, the court will now have your opening statement as well."

Everyone's eyes flew to her brother. Thankfully, he wasn't showing any sign of weakness. Pam was sitting behind him, so she couldn't see his face. Her brother gestured to Maya, still sitting in her chair flanked by two officers.

"Thank you, Your Honor. I believe that the evidence found is not enough to convict my client of murder. I intend to prove that it was not her, but someone else entirely!"

The crowd began to mutter. Some said that Phoenix was in over his head, going against Edgeworth. Others wondered how the case would turn out. After all, if Maya wasn't the killer, then who was? Hopefully he'd be able to make use of what she found. Whether she liked it or not, Pam had been benched.

The judge hit his gavel on the plate a few times, waiting for the crowd to get quiet. "Very well. The court has heard you both. Now we will begin the trial." Edgeworth bowed at the waist, sporting that evil smirk from before.

"Very well. The prosecution would like to call the chief officer at the scene, Detective Gumshoe!" Gumshoe strode toward the front from a holding area in the back. Pam rubbed her eyes when she saw two Gumshoes instead of one. Need to stay focused. Come on, brain, don't start playing tricks on me. Once he was at the stand, Gumshoe nodded to Edgeworth. The prosecutor cleared his throat. "Witness, please state your name and profession to the court."

"Sir! My name's Dick Gumshoe, sir! I'm the detective in charge of homicides down at the precinct, sir!" With every 'sir', Gumshoe was saluting to Edgeworth in an over-the-top fashion. Apparently, the crowd thought so too. There was a wave of giggling before Edgeworth silenced them with a glare.

"Detective Gumshoe, please describe the scene of the crime for the court."

"Very well, sir!" Gumshoe pulled out a map, giving a copy to Edgeworth, Phoenix, and the judge. A larger copy was projected onto a large screen above the judge's head, so the crowd could see. Pam squinted at the screen, trying to make the blurred lines come into focus. It was no good. The white of the outline with the bright yellow lights overhead were only serving to make her dizzy. Pam bit the inside of her cheek, trying to stay awake while Gumshoe continued his speech. "Let me use this floor map of the office to explain. The body was found by this window, here."

"And what was the cause of death?" asked Edgeworth. Pam looked at him, only to blink and pinch her leg. For a moment there, his grey bangs had instead looked like rabbit ears. Goodman looked over at her, concerned.

"Loss of blood due to being struck with a blunt object, sir! The murder weapon was a statue of the Thinker, which was found next to the body. It was heavy enough to be a deadly weapon, even in a girl's hands, sir."

Pam started tapping her foot on the ground while continuing to pinch herself. She hated even thinking this, but she was going to retract her statement about Maya not being able to use the Thinker as a weapon. Phoenix had told her that when he had held it during Larry's case, it had been far heavier than it looked. It was still hard to imagine Maya being the person who killed Mia, but it wasn't as bad a theory as she originally thought. Which was the worst, because that meant potentially agreeing with Edgeworth.

"The court accepts the statue as evidence." The judge had his gavel in hand, little wings sprouting from the hammer's top.

"Now, Detective Gumshoe," Miles slapped a hand on his table. The sound was terribly loud. Pam winced as the noise rung inside her aching head. "You immediately arrested Ms. Maya Fey, who was found at the scene, correct? Can you tell me why?"

"Well, obviously it was because she was the murderer," someone whispered behind her. It sounded like a young woman; the tone of voice was heavily sarcastic. Pam turned around, ready to tell the person off, and was greeted by the site of an old man. Pam blinked, looking at the other people nearby. None of them were talking, though a few were watching her as if she had grown a second head. She turned back around, scratching her head. Goodman put a hand on her knee, stopping it's bouncing.

"Wright, what is up with you?" His whisper was barely audible. Pam had to lean closer just to hear him. "You're acting strange. If this is because of your feud with Edgeworth—"

"No, it's not that. I'm just…tired. I thought I heard someone talking." She shook her head. "I'll keep it together." Goodman hummed under his breath, removing his hand.

Gumshoe had been talking that whole time, but Pam only caught the last end of his sentence. "—hard evidence that she did it, sir."

"Detective," the judge said. "Please testify to the court about this hard evidence."

"Well, first we got a call from another officer, a younger detective named Pamola." Gumshoe glanced at her for a moment before looking back to the judge. "We rushed to the scene and saw Pamola was there, along with that defense attorney, Mr. Wright, and the defendant, Ms. Fey. I immediately arrested Ms. Fey because we had another call from a witness, who had seen the murder take place!"

"Hm…a witness who saw the murder. Very well. Mr. Wright!" Phoenix jumped at the judges voice. Pam thought his hair spikes were moving around like little snakes. The judge's gavel still had those little wings on it too. Pam shifted in her seat, sweat running down her neck. I am losing my mind here. The judge nodded his head. "You may now begin your cross-examination."

"Good luck to 'im. I'm tired just thinking about talking to that oaf." This time the voice came from Pam's left, one of a man. It sounded like a Scottish accent, one that Pam knew. Heart racing, her head whipped to the left. Instead of a man, she saw a little old lady with a plump face. The lady didn't notice Pam, too busy listening to the trial and knitting some kind of scarf. Pam took off her jacket, suddenly feeling far too hot.

Her brother was reading a piece of paper when she looked back. He put it in his pocket before starting his questioning.

"Hold it, Detective! If I heard you correctly…" Phoenix pointed a finger at Gumshoe. "You said you arrested her because you had 'hard evidence' she did it, correct?"

"Huh?" Gumshoe pulled at his tie. "Did…did I say that, me?"

"I heard you say it!" confirmed Phoenix.

"You did say it," agreed the judge, wings sprouting from his white beard.

"You said it," Edgeworth said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Tell me, what about that suspicious woman in pink's claim was 'hard evidence'?" Phoenix put his hands on his hips. Pam could imagine his cocky smile even though she couldn't see him. She heard the woman's voice again, though this time it seemed like it was coming from the other side of the courtroom.

"He's walking right into a trap," she scoffed. Pam tried to find the voiced owner, but no one was saying on word. Despite the fact that the people on the other side of the room were dead silent, the voice was clear as day. "I thought I taught him better than this…"

"Aye, that you did." Now it was the Scottish voice, coming from below her feet. "But the fella has to stand on his own two feet, and making mistakes is the best way to learn."

"It's all in my head," Pam muttered. She barely said the words. They were so quiet, not even Goodman heard. Speaking of Goodman, his white clothes were starting to steam, or at least that's how it looked to the delirious Pam. Her eyes were heavy. Even the shouts from below weren't enough to keep her mind on track. From the sound of things, Gumshoe had just revealed something pretty big, but it all just sounded like buzzing in her ears. She grabbed her head, eyes straining to focus on the scene below her. "It's just in my head. It's not real."

"Not real?" The Scottish voice scoffed. "Don't be a fool. I'm as real as the sun in the sky."

"Oh, stop it, you're scaring her." The woman's voice was soft, pleasant, and just as familiar as the other. Pam closed her eyes, giving her face a slap. When she opened them, she was in a completely empty courtroom. She stood, looking for someone, anyone. She'd even be glad to see Edgeworth at this point. But no, there was no one here. She ran down the steps, reaching for the door. It disappeared just before her hand touched it, turning into a brick wall. Pam jerked backward, a hand on her head.

"I've gone insane," she mumbled, falling into the defendant's chair. "Completely and utterly insane. Am I dreaming?" She pinched herself again, yelping when she felt pain.

"You're dreaming, of a sort." Pam looked up to the defense's desk. Behind it stood Mia, in the same clothes she always wore when she was alive. It was Mia, but it also wasn't. Pam stood up on shaky legs.

"Great," Pam sighed. "Now it's official. I'm seeing dead people in my dreams. Fantastic."

"Or maybe this is just your tired mind compensating for a lack of sleep," Mia suggested. She pushed her bangs out of her eyes, only for them to fall back down seconds later. "Your body does need rest after all."

"Aye, but you also need to solve this case." Behind the prosecution stand was Kentbé, just like he had looked when he was alive. Pam wanted to look away, but she couldn't. He had on his old brown trench coat, covering almost all of his body except for some old black boots. His beard and hair had streaks of grey in it. His glasses had a crack it them, but otherwise his face was the same. He leaned on the desk, a glass in his hand. "Don't worry, this happened to me loads when we did cases together."

"You aren't even the real Kent. You're just some figment of my imagination."

Kent took a sip of his drink. "Maybe so. But that's besides the point. This here dream sequence is going to be more helpful than not. Watch." He snapped his fingers. As if he had turned a dial, the images of the courtroom merged with that of her dream. She could see her brother and Edgeworth, even Gumshoe at the stand. All fuzzy as if they were static on a TV. When someone spoke, their words had an echo. Other times Pam couldn't hear anything at all, as if someone had muted them.

"See? It's all in how your mind works." Kent tossed his empty glass at Phoenix. The object passed harmlessly through his face before disappearing. "Your body is resting while your mind is still awake. It'll definitely have consequences later, but fair play to ya for sticking with it."

"So…none of this is real?" Pam looked down at her hands. Now that she was looking, even she seemed a little fuzzy. She stood up from the chair, walking over to Edgeworth, poking a finger in his face. She passed though him, just like the glass.

"Is that really what you should be focusing on?" Mia motioned to Phoenix, who seemed to be arguing with something Gumshoe had just said. "There is a trial going on. If you focused hard enough, you could listen in."

"So far," Kent interrupted, grabbing another glass from the air. "It looks like that mite brother of yours brought out the autopsy report to prove Mia here couldn't have written the note. Class thinking. However, this guy," he nodded to Edgeworth, who was taking a deep bow. "Well, he says that he got an updated report that says Mia survived a few minutes after."

"Great," Pam muttered, "just great." I need to hear what he's saying. Pam bit the inside of her cheek, the pain seeming to clear the static noise in her head. She didn't fully wake up, but now she could hear the end of Edgeworth's rant.

"—it is quite easy to imagine that the victim did have time to write 'Maya'!" He bowed again. "That is all."

Phoenix's hands were planted on his table. He muttered something she couldn't quite hear before pulling out a piece of evidence. It was Otto's file. Mia leaned over, grinning when she saw the contents.

"Ah, now that's going to be hard for Miles to explain."

"Mr. Edgeworth, I have a question for you." Phoenix walked out from behind his desk, showing the prosecutor the file. "Can you tell me what this is?" Edgeworth frowned, taking it and skimming the contents. His fingers clutched the binding.

"It's a file. A medical one, by the looks of it. Though I'm not sure how someone from your background could understand the contents."

Her brother ignored the jab and took the folder back, opening it up to the front cover. "See here, this is the name of the study. Could you read it out for me?"

Edgeworth huffed, crossing his arms. "As I had assumed, it seems the contents of this report are a bit out of your depth."

Phoenix shrugged, still holding up the folder. "All the same, I would like you to read it for the court, please."

"Whatever." Edgeworth leaned forward, squinting. "It seems to be a report on the brain."

"Specifically, what part of the brain?" Phoenix's questions were making the gallery antsy. The judge leaned forward, as if that would help him see the contents of the report.

"Mr. Wright! If there is new evidence that needs to be submitted, I order you to show it to me at once!"

Phoenix snapped the folder closed right in front of Edgeworth's face, causing the prosecutor to jump. Without waiting for a response from the silver-haired man, her brother presented the folder to the judge.

"Of course, Your Honor. This is a study on the effects of damaging the Broca's Area. It's the part of the brain that manages your speech and language."

The judge huffed, looking over the document. "Are you going somewhere with this, Mr. Wright? We don't have all day." Edgeworth was staring at his brother's back with a confused look. Phoenix straightened his tie, returning to his side of the courtroom.

"To put it simply, even mild injuries to the brain can affect someone's ability to write. If you'll look on page 15, section 1.3b, paragraph 4…" He paused, waiting for the judge to flip to that page. "Then you will see that in 90% of cases, patients with injuries to the brain were unable to write legibly for up to 24 hours."

The judge sighed, putting the folder down. Even those watching seemed to be uncomfortable with the sudden statistics.

"If the defense would please get to the point?"

It seemed like no one was taking this piece of evidence seriously. All except for Edgeworth, who had suddenly gone very pale. Despite her exhaustion, Pam felt a spike of energy run through her.

Her brother smiled, hands back on his hips. "I am saying that, even if Mia Fey had a few brief seconds to survive, there is no possible way for her to be able to write the name of her killer! At least, not as legibly as Detective Gumshoe's evidence shows!"

The gallery erupted into noise. It was a bit hard for Pam to hear the specifics, but everyone seemed pretty surprised by this new evidence.

Gumshoe slammed a fist down on the witness stand, his pencil nearly falling out from behind his ear. "What's that got to do with anything, pal?"

"Can't you see? It has everything to do with this case! Just look at the receipt!" Phoenix pointed to the picture on the overhead screen. "The letters on it are perfect, large and readable for all to see! This would not be possible with the head injuries we saw. Tell me," he said, slamming his hands on the desk, "how would Mia have been able to write so clearly, especially after she was hit on the head with a heavy statue? I find it highly unlikely that she was the one to write that note, right, Mr. Edgeworth?"

The crowd erupted into chatter, so loud that it took a few swings from the judge's gavel to quiet them all down. Kent chuckled from his place beside Edgeworth. Said prosecutor was leaning over his desk, hands clutched into fists. But, almost as soon as she saw it, he was standing up straight again. He tapped his finger to his forehead. As if he expected this all along.

"Unlikely. Yet, not impossible."

Phoenix's shoulders dropped. Sweat beaded up on his face.

"W-what?"

"You said in 90% of cases, subjects could not write legibly for some time." Edgeworth shrugged his shoulders. "This means that in 10% of cases, patients had no issues at all."

Her brother slammed his hands on the table, trying to get the courts attention. But it was too late. The people were already back in Edgeworth's pocket. Still, he raised his voice. "That's not—"

"And, if I am correct, the report did not say that patients were not unable to write, just that their writing was not as neat as usual."

The judge nodded. "Yes, that makes sense." Pam clenched her fists. No. No!

Edgeworth made a big show of looking to both sides of the gallery. "We cannot say beyond reasonable doubt that Ms. Mia Fey was unable to right this note!" He turned to the judge. "I request the court not except this file into evidence. It is entirely unrelated to this case."

Pam could see her brother stuttering. She ran up to his side, waving her hands in front of his face.

"Request another autopsy!" Her words didn't do anything. Phoenix continued to mumble out excuses. She tried grabbed his arm but passed right through him. "Phoenix, you have to request another autopsy!"

Mia sighed, grabbing her necklace. "This is just a dream state," she reminded her. "He can't actually hear you."

Edgeworth chuckled. It was dark, utterly sickening. "A shame, Mr. Wright. You even went through all the trouble of memorizing the sections. Too bad it was no good."

The judge shook his head. He banged his gavel once. "I have to agree with Mr. Edgeworth. This evidence is purely based in speculation. I will not accept the evidence. Try and be more careful next time, Mr. Wright."

Her brother slammed his hand on his desk, glaring at the prosecutor across for him. He pointed to Gumshoe, who shrunk on the stand.

"The prosecution is the one who should be more careful! I was given a faulty autopsy report by the lead detective! He's a sham!"

"I agree." Edgeworth shook his head. "Detective Gumshoe is at fault, and I will see that he is punished. It will not be a good look on his evaluation next month." Gumshoe muttered a weak protest, but he mostly remained silent. Edgeworth continued easily, though he couldn't stop smirking at her brother. "If that is all, the prosecution would like to call it's next witness.

The judge nodded his head. "I'll allow it. Bailiff, if you would bring in the witness…"

Pam tried to shake off her disappointment as the medical report was set aside. She would have time to be upset about that later. For now, she had to focus. She rubbed her hands together. "Finally, I'll get to hear what this lady's story is!" Pam watched as the bailiff brought out a woman in pink. The closer she got to Pam, the less fuzzy she became. "She's the only person who I know nothing about!"

"Er, bad news, Pams." Kent pointed to the stands. Pam could see someone in a uniform making his way up the steps. It was hard to make out faces in the crowd, as they were too far away, but she could see Goodman's white apparel even from here. It looked like the man was coming right for them. "I think that lad's on his way to meet'cha."

Her heart dropped. "Is this another one of Edgeworth's dirty tricks?" she growled. Mia shook her head.

"I don't think so. Miles Edgeworth is a lot of things, but the courtroom is sacred land to him. Once you're inside, I doubt he would try anything." She frowned, gripping her necklace. "No, this is different. I think it would be best if you woke up now."

"Wait, I can't go now!" But she could already feel herself starting to wake up. The real world was starting to come back into focus, while Mia and Kent began to fade. Pam panicked, running to her old mentor and trying to grab him. Her hand passed through his shoulder. "Don't go," she pleaded, feeling like a small child. "I need your help! You always know what to do!"

Kent smiled at her, not a hint of sadness in sight. "But I'm dead, Pams. You'll just have to do this on your own. Have a grand 'ol time with the case! Now wake up, before this Goodman fella pushes you out your seat!" Every time Pam blinked, Kent faded from view, until eventually she opened her eyes back in her seat. Goodman was shaking her shoulder, stopping when she swatted his hand away.

"Wright, wake up!" he hissed.

"I've been awake this whole time."

"Yeah, with your eyes closed? But that's not an issue right now." Ignoring the trial still going on below, he nodded his head to the end of the isle. Closest to the door, the guard from her weird half-awake dream was standing. He was holding a whiteboard, with her name on it. Her first name, not her last. Goodman leaned close while she rubbed the crust out of her eyes. "We can discuss your lack of courtroom etiquette later. Guards wouldn't interrupt a trial unless it was something important. You should go."

"But the trial—"

"I'll stay and fill you in later. Trust me, it's best to go before Miles or your brother sees you."

Speaking of which, both men were listening closely as April May gave her testimony. Pam sent a longing look to her brother, wishing there was some way she could stay. Not a toe out of line. Pam got up as quietly as she could, only drawing attention from the people in the stands. She made her way to the guard, who didn't bother to speak. He led her out a side door, into the lobby outside the courtroom. The door had barely shut before Pam had rounded on the police officer.

"What is the meaning of this? There had better be a good reason for you to interrupt a trial." Pam tried and failed to sound threatening. She was too tired to even put up a cold front. The guard cleared his throat.

"There was a phone call for you, detective. It came from the police department. You are to report there immediately."

Pam's heart stopped. "A-and on who's order is this?" She didn't need to ask. Only one person would have enough power to interrupt a trial. Fear wound around her spine like a snake as the guard answered.

"The Chief of Police, Damon Gant."

Sorry for the beefy chapter today. I tried moving stuff around, but it still ended up being longer than usual. But hey, more content for you, right?