[October 10th, 9:37 am, District Court-Defendant Lobby No. 4]

In as many times as he'd entered the courtroom, the place never seemed to get any warmer. Even on hot summer days, the soft whites and golds of the room paired with the myriad of reflective surfaces made it feel like sitting in an igloo. For that reason, concentrating was made quite difficult for the attorney as he examined his notes once more with heavy eyes. He added a few modifications to earlier notes with a bright red pen as he began to hear footsteps on the other side of the room. He caught a glimpse of Lloyd Reed's shoes marching into the prosecution lobby, as well as those of several police officers behind him. The sight of those shoes made Robin scowl and focus even more intensely on his review.

As he sat, half tempted to lean back and doze off, he realized Colm Fletcher was walking toward him, "Hey, hotshot, I got somethin' for ya, but I gotta make it quick."

"Shoot," Robin nodded.

"You remember that bag from yesterday?" The attorney nodded. A worried crease appeared on the detective's brow, "We finally busted the thing open, it was made of some really weird lining, but the inside had blood all over it, plus some clothes. We don't know whose blood yet, though."

"That's a big find, detective," the attorney's eyes widened.

Colm rolled his eyes, "No kiddin'. Don't go tellin' everybody straight out, though, okay? I have no idea if it's even related."

"Understood. Thanks, detective," Robin smiled. The detective hurried off, rejoining the march of police footsteps down the hall. Robin, meanwhile, focused intently on the possibilities presented by the new piece of evidence.

He focused so much, in fact, that he failed to notice the police car that pulled into the lot, and the passenger that was led out of it with her hands clasped behind her back. When she was within a few feet, Lyn whispered at him, "Mr. LeBlanc?"

Robin picked his head up and felt his cheeks flush, "Oh, sorry, uh, hello, Lyn."

"Hello," she giggled.

"How are you feeling? Are you doing okay?" he stood, straightening his hair.

"I'm fine, Mr. LeBlanc," the girl bowed her head, "especially since you're defending me. You did a spectacular job last time, I'm sure you can pull it off again."

"I'll certainly try my best," he returned. Lyn nodded and the guard behind her glanced at her and then the attorney before her, offering an inquisitive look. "Before you go, Lyn, I wanted to ask you a few things, just to keep the story straight," Robin added.

"By all means."

"You said Nephenee pushed you during your meeting?"

"Yes."

"From the front? She leaned forward and pushed you?"

"Yes."

"All right. And then you were knocked unconscious?"

"Yes, but I don't think Nephenee did that. Not directly, anyway. I only felt the hit after I pushed her back."

"Interesting... Have you met Heron Corp's CEO, Oliver Pope?"

"I'm afraid not. Entry-level employees don't really get to see the executives."

"I see. One last question: do you have your employee ID with you?"

"Oh! Yes," she gestured toward her front pocket only to remember her hands were still bound, "Uh, I can't quite..." Robin nodded and, blushing a bit, reached into the pocket and seized the card himself. Lyn chuckled, "I didn't even think about it until now, but as soon as you reminded me, I realized I still had it."

"Would you mind if I held onto it for just a little while?" he asked.

Lyn's eyebrows creased, "I'm not sure... it's my only one, and if something happens to it, I could get fired..."

"I'll take good care of it, Lyn," the attorney produced a plastic bag, "I promise. I'm just going to put it in here and hold onto it, maybe to use it as evidence if it comes to that. Trust me, you'll be glad I did."

"All right," her face explained she was not entirely convinced, "just please don't lose it."

"You have my word," he held up a hand. The emerald-haired girl nodded and let the police officer lead her toward a side door of the courtroom.

Robin considered taking a look at his notes once more, but no sooner had the conversation finished than the bailiff called to him: "Mr. LeBlanc? His Honor is just about ready, if you'd like to head in."

Robin nodded, thanked the bailiff, and walked in as the door was opened for him.

[October 10th, 10:01 am, District Court-Courtroom No. 4]

The judge cleared his throat, pounding his gavel once to garner the court's attention, "Ladies and gentlemen, this court will now reconvene for the trial of Ms. Lyndis Lorca. Are both counsels adequately prepared?"

"The prosecution stands ready, Your Honor," Lloyd Reed declared, stabbing his opposing counsel with a glare.

Robin placed a hand on his desk, "The defense... is also ready, Your Honor."

"Very good," the judge surmised, interlocking his fingers, "Now, as I recall, the last session ended when it was revealed that Ms. Heather Luxberg was concealing valuable records from the court."

"Correct, Your Honor," Robin pounced, "Heather—er, Ms. Luxberg had an inappropriate workplace relationship with the victim that would have gotten her fired if it were made public, and so she withheld the records because they showed the victim apparently getting up and leaving the room after the presumed time of her death."

"Ms. Luxberg has since been taken into custody," Lloyd added, "she was terminated immediately, according to her supervisor."

The judge shook his head, "How very regrettable. It is truly unfortunate how many lives I have seen fall apart within these very walls."

Yikes, that's a little heavy, Robin sighed.

"In any case," the judge resumed, "I made the request that both parties seek out additional evidence in order to provide explanations for the discrepancy that was discovered. Mr. Reed, as the prosecutor of this case, have you anything new to show the court?"

"Indeed," Lloyd nodded, "although it may be telling more than showing. The prosecution would like to offer the testimony of a yet-unheard witness: one Hector Sturakst."

The judge nodded, "Very good. Mr. Sturakst, if you are present, please approach the witness stand."

A bulky blue-haired figure stood up from the gallery and complied with the request. His shoulders eclipsed and engulfed the small podium as he stood before it. "Your name and occupation, please, sir," Lloyd Reed demanded.

"Hector Sturakst. I'm a sales rep, like Eliwood, Lyn, and Nephenee," he replied.

"Thank you," Lloyd nodded, "now, will you kindly tell the court what it is you witnessed?"

"Sure thing," he folded his arms. The blue-haired man was staring gravely at Robin. "I was at home on the night the murder occurred," Hector began, "nothing special, but I got a call from Eliwood well after normal hours. I thought that was weird, so I decided I should pick up. Later, I would learn that he made that call after he called the police. When Eliwood told me what he saw, I rushed right on down and found him on the floor where our office is located. When I looked inside, I saw the scene—it really was messed up, seeing Nephenee's body like that, and Lyn right beside her. Anyhow, I remember looking at both girls for a while, and I got this funny feeling, like somethin' wasn't quite right. Sure enough, when I got back home after the cops let us go the following morning, I realized what was wrong: Nephenee had been missing her ID tag."

"No further questions," Lloyd said curtly, his eyes shut.

"Very well," the judge nodded, "Mr. LeBlanc, your cross-examination?"

Something's way off about this, Robin thought, what Hector just said... that can't be right, there's a glaring flaw there, and Lloyd should know about it. Is he... trying to trap me somehow? I'm not sure. I do have to at least look into this, though.

"Mr. Sturakst," Robin breathed, "may I extrapolate that the conclusion you anticipate to your observations is that Ms. Lorca stole the victim's ID?"

"That's right," he agreed.

"Then I have to tell you that that cannot be true," Robin rebutted.

"What?" Hector's brows knitted.

The attorney shook his head, "I followed up a secondary investigation yesterday as well, and I know for a fact that the victim's ID was still on her person at that time, meaning it couldn't have been stolen by the defendant."

The blue-haired man's face twisted, "No way, man, I know what I saw. I'm entirely certain Nephenee didn't have her ID on her when Eliwood and I showed up that night."

"Hector, listen to me," Robin insisted, "I'm telling you you must be making a mistake, because what you saw isn't possible."

"Let's not be so hasty," Lloyd interrupted him, "It is still very possible that Ms. Lorca obtained the ID, used it to open the doors and then returned everything, including herself to its proper place."

"And why would she do that?" Robin slapped his desk.

"Why, to create this exact conflict, of course," Lloyd tapped his forehead.

"What?!"

"Don't be dense, Mr. LeBlanc. If Ms. Lorca could make it seem like someone else had used Ms. Monell's ID whilst she lay 'unconscious' in the room it would create the perfect alibi for her, a sham of a story that it seems you've played right into."

"Objection!" Robin shouted, "Th-That's ridiculous? If Lyn stole the ID then surely the more logical move would be to flee the scene!"

"Run away from the crime with a crucial loose end either right in her pocket or out in the open for anyone to find?" Lloyd shook his head, "Your rookie status is showing, Mr. LeBlanc; that is hardly a logical move at all when she had the perfect opportunity to create this false 'third party' scenario."

"Absurd," the attorney refuted, "How can the prosecution hope to prove such an accusation?"

Lloyd Reed smiled broadly, "I was hoping you'd ask. The lab boys took a look at the ID by my request yesterday. Fingerprint testing revealed matches for the victim and the defendant only."

"No...!" Robin cursed, "That still doesn't prove what you're claiming. There are a dozen other times Lyn's fingerprints might have accidentally ended up on the victim's ID; they were co-workers, it could have happened any time!"

"Fortune does not favor you today, Mr. LeBlanc," Lloyd shook his head, "The ID cards contain very special mechanical components that allow their unique signatures to be identified, but these components are easily ruined by exposure to outside elements. As such, employees must have their cards scrubbed once every week to avoid damage. You see where I'm going with this, don't you?"

The judge answered for him, "You mean to say that since the tag was found after the victim's work day had ended, the prints on it could only have been made after working hours?"

The prosecutor smiled, "Just so. Therefore, Mr. LeBlanc, there is indisputable proof that it was Ms. Lorca who touched the victim's ID, resolving the conflict created by the record evidence!"

"Ack!" the attorney clutched his chest, feeling as though he'd just endured a rather powerful jab to it.

Lloyd Reed continued, "Yes, now you see. Without the convenient contradiction provided by that evidence, you are without recourse: all the evidence points directly to Lyndis Lorca."

"No..." the attorney felt sweat upon his brow. That can't be right, he thought, is there really nothing else? Can't anything explain this that doesn't condemn Lyn?

The judge pounded his gavel, "I am inclined to agree with Mr. Reed's conclusion, Mr. LeBlanc. Unless you can provide some information to cast doubt on the prosecution's findings, I'm afraid there seems to be little reason to further prolong this trial."

"W-Wait, Your Honor!" Robin begged, "This still doesn't make any sense! Why didn't Eliwood mention this in his testimony?"

"He simply failed to notice it," Lloyd shrugged, "anything else?"

Robin looked to the left and right, "Uh, when did Mr. Fremont call you, Mr. Sturakst?"

"After he called the police, I said that," Hector responded.

"But can you tell me the exact time?" Robin hoped.

"Objection!" Lloyd shouted, "What possible relevance could that information have?"

"Your Honor," the attorney was sweating bullets, "I beg you, just allow me a moment and I'll make everything clear."

The judge eyed him suspiciously, "I am very seriously doubting much of what you have said thus far, Mr. LeBlanc. I will allow you this one last chance, but if this inquiry does not introduce new information, I will end the trial immediately, am I understood?"

Robin swallowed feeling his vision fade, "Y-Yes, Your Honor."

"Very well. Mr. Sturakst, please answer the question," the judge requested.

"Uh, lessee..." he looked at his phone, "says here... 11:21 pm."

"11:21?!" Robin repeated, clenching his teeth.

"Yeah, why?"

"You said Eliwood called you after he called the police!" Robin insisted.

"Yeah?"

"And you said you 'rushed straight there!' But you told me you didn't get there until after midnight!"

"W-Well, maybe I didn't 'rush' per se, but traffic was pretty crappy..."

"Mr. LeBlanc!" Lloyd cut him off, "Are you accusing Mr. Fremont or Mr. Sturakst of something?"

"N-No..." Robin shrank, "but... this doesn't add up. Why would Eliwood wait so long to call Hector and tell him about this?"

The prosecutor shrugged, "He didn't think about it until later, it was that simple."

"I refuse to accept that!" Robin argued, "We need to ask Mr. Fremont ourselves."

"Nonsense!" Lloyd shouted, "This charade of yours has gone on long enough! Your Honor, I demand you put an end to this circus of a trial!"

"I'm afraid I find your findings suspect at best, Mr. LeBlanc," the judge shook his head, "As such, I am left with no choice. I hereby—"

"Hold it!" a voice muted the courtroom. Eliwood stood in the doorway, "I heard that Hector was testifying today, and I wondered why he didn't tell me. If Mr. LeBlanc says something's amiss, I'm prepared to answer whatever questions have arisen."

"There's no point!" Lloyd argued, "We've tread and retread this ground, there's nothing new to find here!"

"Eliwood, why did you wait so long to call Hector?"

"Mr. LeBlanc—"

"What do you mean? I called as soon as I finished calling the police."

"And when was that?"

"Um... I'm not sure... if I check my phone, it says... 8:47 pm."

Gasps and murmurs filled the courtroom.

"Ridiculous!" Lloyd shouted, "Hector Sturakst didn't receive that call until 11:21 pm! Mr. Fremont is lying!"

"I have the record right here," Eliwood lifted up his phone. The redhead walked forward a few steps and showed it to the judge who confirmed the time.

"But then why did Hector not get the call at that time?!" Lloyd growled.

"Exactly what I want to know," Robin slammed his fists on his desk, "Did you talk to Mr. Fremont during that call, Mr. Sturakst?"

"Uh, no, I just kinda listened to what he said and jumped in my car."

"Eliwood!" Robin pressed, "Did you hear Hector when you called him?"

"Now that I think about it... I'm not sure..."

"What about the police? What did they say when you called?"

"No one actually said anything when I was describing the scene. Once I finished, somebody told me a dispatch had already been sent to my location."

"W-What?!" Colm Fletcher stood up, "That can't be right! That's an automated message we use when we receive multiple calls from the same approximate area!"

"Th-That means..." the prosecutor's voice shuddered.

"Someone else already called the police before Eliwood!" Robin finished his thought. More mutters of surprise emanated from the gallery. "Somehow, Eliwood's phone was creating all sorts of impossibilities that night: he was the first one on the scene, but not the first to call the police, and he called Hector more than two hours later than his phone indicates!"

"But how...?!" Lloyd slammed a fist on his desk.

"Now, remind me, where did the police dispatch register the call as having come from?" Robin pressed.

"The CEO's office," Detective Fletcher answered, "Son of a bitch..."

"Then that's it!" Robin slapped his desk once more, "There was someone else at the scene of the crime around the time of the murder: someone in the CEO's office!"

"Don't you dare...!" Lloyd growled.

The attorney tapped his forehead, "And at such a late hour, who else would have been there but the CEO himself?"

The judge pounded his gavel several times as the chatter in the court was steadily rising, "Order! Order, I say! Mr. LeBlanc, are you suggesting what I believe you're suggesting?"

"Given that I have no other choice," Robin nodded, "I am, Your Honor. The defense would like to formally indict the CEO of Heron Corporation, Oliver Pope, in the murder of Nephenee Monell!"

"You imbecile!" Lloyd roared.

"Order! ORDER!" the judge pounded his gavel a few more times, "Unless you have significant evidence to counter this claim, I'm afraid I see little choice, Mr. Reed."

"I...! That's not...! Of course there's...!"

"Don't trouble yourself, Mr. Reed," at once, heads whipped around to the back of the courtroom once again, this time finding a squat, corpulent man before them. Oliver Pope addressed the crowd, "I was coming here to see what, exactly, had become of my employee so that I could see where our training went wrong and remediate it, but I come all this way only to hear baseless accusations and hotheaded lawyers running their mouths... Hah! How inconceivably gauche!"

"And you are?" the judge blinked.

The man pulled up the lapels of his mustard suit, "I am Oliver Pope, CEO of Heron Corporation and the defense's latest patsy, it would seem."

"Do you deny calling the police?" Robin leered at him.

He shook his head, "Not at all. But I would prefer to make formal answers to these questions so that needless repetition may be avoided."

"Are you saying you want to testify?" Lloyd stared at the squat man.

"Of course," he smiled.

The judge blinked a few more times, then nodded, "Uh... very well... this is highly unorthodox, however, I suppose, given the circumstances, your arrival is, in point of fact, a great convenience to this court. We will thus take a fifteen minute recess to prepare you for your testimony and to swear you in, Mr. Pope—"

"Pish-posh," the balding man scoffed, "We'll do it right now. I have a very lovely lunch waiting for me in the near future, so I'd like to stamp out this little attorney's complaints straight away."

The judge cocked an eyebrow, "Er, but Mr. Pope, I cannot allow—"

"Balderdash! Poppycock! Horsetails! If the prosecutor has no objections to my testimony, then I am able to begin immediately, isn't that right?"

"Well, technically—"

"And the prosecutor has no objections, do you, Mr. Reed?"

"...No."

"Then there you have it. Let's get this testimony over with."

This guy doesn't mess around, Robin sighed to himself, What's his game? He's putting himself at greater risk by testifying, isn't he?

"Uh, right..." Lloyd grimaced as the CEO took his place at the witness stand, "Will the witness state his name and occupation?"

"Oliver Pope," he smiled with a gleam in his eyes, "the CEO of Heron Corporation, the greatest multinational insurance conglomerate in the world!"

"Quite," Lloyd folded his arms, "Would you care to tell us your version of events, Mr. Pope?"

"I certainly would," he chuckled and his stomach shook, "I was in my office that fateful night, counting up revenue, managing supervisors' shifts, examining stocks, a whole host of managerial endeavors—alas, the life of a successful entrepreneur! I was nearly finished with my duties that evening when I heard an awful sound from a few levels below. I must admit, because I am not a man of great stature, I dreaded seeking out the noise for fear of an assault on my person. All the same, I braved the dangers and took the elevator down to the eleventh floor, and when the doors opened, I was quickly treated to a view of the horrific murder! I was so frightened I scrambled back to the elevator and returned to my office, hoping I might elude the murderer, were he or she still around. I called the police as soon as I returned to my office, just before 8:30."

Lloyd nodded, "So you see, Mr. LeBlanc, a solid alibi; Mr. Pope had nothing to do with the murders."

"I'm ready for my cross-examination, Your Honor," Robin glared at the balding man before him.

"Er, yes," the judge stammered, "do go on."

"Can anyone beyond yourself account for your whereabouts, Mr. Pope?"

"Unfortunately, no man or woman can, however, I, like all of my employees, carry an ID card. It is the only card which can grant access to my office, and the records for that night indicate their use specifically at the times I described."

"Those times aren't on the records I possess."

"You have a limited copy of the records. Executive copies are withheld for client and business security reasons, but I can make an exception for such an extenuating circumstance."

"How can we trust that this record isn't doctored in some way?"

"You can ask our Technical Services and Security Engineer, Mr. Soren Nuache, for a copy directly from the company's source information, if it pleases you."

"Detective Fletcher?"

"On it."

"You saw into the room after Nephenee was murdered?"

"Indeed."

"So the door must have been open."

"Yes."

"How do we know it wasn't you who killed Nephenee and rendered Lyn unconscious?"

"Do you have any evidence that suggests that? Fingerprints? Blood? DNA? No, the physical evidence all points to Ms. Lorca, as I understand."

"But you could have changed any number of things—"

"Objection!" Lloyd called, "It's a moot point, Mr. LeBlanc. If you have no evidence implicating Mr. Pope, then suspicion cannot be shifted."

"You say you fled to your office, why?"

"Don't be daft, boy, it was because I saw the victim dead!"

"How could you tell she was dead?"

"I saw two bodies on the floor and a smear of blood on the wall. I put two and two together."

"You didn't think to ask if either of them were okay?"

"Objection," Lloyd declared again, "The quality of Mr. Pope's decisions is irrelevant."

"If you saw all this before Eliwood, why didn't you come forward?"

"I was quite busy, and I heard his story. It doesn't differ at all from mine. I've stayed away from this trial altogether as a result; I haven't looked into anything until the matter is sorted legally."

"How did you know to go to the eleventh floor?"

"I took what might be called an 'educated guess.' The sound came from several floors below, so I went down to whereabouts I assumed it had come from. If I hadn't found anything, I would have checked the floors above and below that one, too."

"Hey," heads in the court turned as a panting Detective Fletcher reentered the courtroom, "I checked with that Nuache guy, the record's legit." After finishing his explanation, the detective handed the report back to Robin, who scanned it carefully.

"This says you left your office at 8:11 pm. That's seven minutes after Lyn entered the office and eleven minutes before someone used Nephenee's ID on the door again."

"Just so."

"But Lyn wasn't moving at all when you got down there, was she?"

"Not per my recollection."

Dammit, Robin's face fell, I've got nothing. He has an answer for everything I can ask. He's perfectly prepared for all my questions, almost like he's been preparing for this... There's no question, then, it has to be him. But how can I possibly prove it? I have no evidence whatsoever!

But a moment's thought seized Robin immediately and made his eyes grow wide. He was taken back to his conversation with Heather briefly and felt the gears begin to turn in his head. His lips quivering and voice shaky, the attorney asked, "Mr. Pope... do you have any idea why Ms. Lorca would kill Ms. Monell?"

"If I recall correctly, it had something to do with harassment of some kind. Ms. Monell had been denied a promotion and blamed Ms. Lorca, Ms. Lorca contacted Human Resources... a right mess, really," Oliver answered, stroking his chin.

"Mr. Pope," a smile began to grow on Robin's face, "How, exactly do you know that?"

"W-What is that supposed to mean?" the large man sputtered.

"Prior to this trial, only one person knew about the conflict between Ms. Monell and Ms. Lorca in so much detail," Robin noted, "That was the victim's lover, Ms. Luxberg."

"W-Well, I saw some of the trial..."

Robin wagged his finger, "Wait a moment. That directly contradicts something you said earlier. You claimed you didn't follow or involve yourself in any part of this trial."

"I— what? Y-You...!" Oliver's face twisted and he glared at the attorney, grinding his teeth, "H-Hey, prosecutor! Say something!"

"Mr. Pope must have made his statement in error, or phrased it poorly," Lloyd coughed, "I believe he meant that he, personally, did not wish to enter into the trial period, but this information was available on the news, it's been circulating all around."

"Objection!" Robin projected, "As a friend of someone who watches the news religiously, I can tell you that no such information has been made public. Names and faces have been shown, but under Ylissean law, sensitive trial information records can't be released until after a verdict has been handed down. Mr. Pope, there's no way you should know what you know."

"Fine," the man grumbled, "when I heard about the trial, I looked into their company emails to see if I could find anything, are you satisfied now?"

"You can do that?" Robin cocked an eyebrow.

"Of course I can!" Oliver sighed, "I'm the CEO, I have access to everyone's business-related data, including work emails."

"See?" Lloyd shook his head, "that wasn't so hard. Even Mr. Pope's shoulders are surely feeling a bit lighter now, and your confusion has evaporated. May we end this frankly exhausting affair yet?"

Robin shook his head, too, "Mr. Pope, does this access include usernames for emails?"

"Of course."

"And the contents of those emails?"

"Naturally."

"And the histories of sent and received messages?"

"Yes, what do you—"

"And the passwords of those email accounts?"

"Yes, yes, yes, what in the world are you getting at, boy?" the CEO huffed.

"You do have access to the passwords?" Robin slapped his hands on his desk, "Then isn't it possible that you, yourself, could log into any of those emails and thereby pose as any of your own employees?"

"Wh-What?!" Oliver jumped.

"Just what I said," the attorney smiled, "If you have passwords and usernames, you can access any of your employees' company emails and pretend to be one of them sending a message to the others."

Oliver's face resembled a tomato as he shouted, "Just what are you insinuating, you sniveling little—"

"I share Mr. Pope's outrage," Lloyd leered at him, "Even if he was able to do that sort of thing, and I'm not ready to concede that he can, he would have no reason to!"

"Exactly! Why would I want to impersonate the dull life of one of my inferiors?" the balding man exclaimed.

"What if you wanted to start a fight?" Robin grinned.

"Objection!" Lloyd yelled, "The defense is speculating. You have no evidence of what you're claiming."

"Don't I?" Robin folded his arms smugly.

"Not ostensibly, no," the judge decided.

"W-Well," the attorney deflated a bit, "what I mean is, I can provide evidence."

"Well, don't keep us in suspense," the prosecutor's eyes were pure ice, "what will you show the court as evidence that Mr. Pope impersonated an employee's email to try to instigate a fight?"

Robin took a deep breath, This all hinges on a guess, basically. I hope to Naga I'm on the right track, but if I'm going to fail, I might as well fail spectacularly. "I can't provide the evidence, actually," the attorney said.

"Ha!" Lloyd scoffed, "I thought as much. Are we about finished here?"

"Someone else will have to provide it for me."

"What?!"

"Ms. Lyndis Lorca, would you mind logging into your email for me? You can use my phone, if you like," Robin handed her the phone as prosecutor and witness alike stared daggers into him.

"What is the meaning of this?" Lloyd demanded, "This exercise is pointless, we—"

"Your Honor, I'm trying to make a point, if the prosecution would allow me a moment to actually do so," Robin rolled his eyes.

"Agreed, be patient, Mr. Reed," said the judge.

"And Mr. Pope," Robin continued, "while Lyn does that, would you mind using your access to log into Nephenee's account? Just remember, the bailiff will be watching you if you try anything... uncouth."

"You think you intimidate me, you urchin?" Oliver laughed, "Fine, I'll indulge you, just don't get uppity."

"All done," Lyn announced, singsong, "What did you want to see?"

"What is the address of the email that originally sent you the message about the promotion?"

"Nepheneemonell at Heron dot biz."

"Interesting. Mr. Pope, or bailiff, whichever of you prefers, what is the address for Nephenee Monell's email?"

The bailiff answered, "Says 'nepheneemonell at Heron dot biz.'"

"And," Robin glanced at the judge, "looking at the 'sent' folder for that email account, does an email featuring the subject line 'Your conduct' appear anywhere?"

"No, sir."

"How about in the deleted files, or any other folder?"

"We're turning up nothing."

"So the email that Nephenee apparently sent threatening Lyn doesn't exist anywhere on Ms. Monell's account."

"Objection!" Lloyd slammed his fist on his desk, "She might have erased it herself to cover her tracks! That doesn't prove that Mr. Pope arranged that—"

"Objection!" Robin responded, "I'm aware. Don't worry, Lloyd, we'll get there."

Lloyd growled and slammed his fist on his desk.

"Now," the attorney continued, "Lyn, the emails you responded to when Nephenee talked to you about the HR complaint, what was the address there?"

"Nepheneemonell at Heron dot biz."

"So, that conversation was with the same Nephenee, apparently, though the content of those emails doesn't seem to acknowledge the email accusing Lyn of stealing her promotion. Bailiff, since Mr. Pope's feeling shy, do you mind reading the address of the email that addresses Nephenee about a harassment complaint?"

"HRDept at Heron dot biz."

"Ms. Lorca," Robin took in another deep breath: this was the big one, "Is that the email address you were provided for your office's human resources department?"

"Yes."

"Now, Detective Fletcher?"

"What's up?" the detective looked up.

"Can you get Mr. Nuache back on the phone and ask if there's any record of a harassment complaint against Nephenee, or of an email sent from the HR department addressed to Nephenee with the subject 'Concerns of Harassment?'"

"Can do."

"And what could possibly be the point of all this, Mr. LeBlanc?" Lloyd demanded, rolling his eyes.

"If those two emails are faked, like I think they are, it will prove someone was deliberately trying to start a fight between Nephenee and Lyn," he surmised.

"And in what way does that implicate Mr. Pope?" Lloyd demanded, "You've been dancing around it long enough, let's have a real answer."

"You want to know, Mr. Reed?" Robin stood tall behind his desk.

"Desperately," the prosecutor replied, dripping with irony.

"This," Robin pulled the folder Heather had given him out from his briefcase, "is a police record, among other very interesting bits of data."

"Where did you get that?!" Oliver shouted.

"A lot of information appears on these pages, I mean a lot. There's counts of sexual assault and corruption of a minor, embezzlement, blackmailing, insurance fraud, extortion, well... it might be shorter to list what's not on this rap sheet," Robin smiled.

"What... where are you going with this?" Lloyd swallowed.

"Do you know whose it is? I'll give you a hint, he's male, and he's in this room right now, very close to us," the attorney widened his eyes to increase the pressure.

"What?!" Lloyd stepped back, "You're not serious... you couldn't have...?!"

"That's right, ladies and gents," Robin faced the gallery, "please welcome career criminal and pervert Oliver Pope!"

"You scum-sucking lawyer dirtbag!" the balding man cried, "How dare you tarnish my good name like that?!"

"I know, and after you paid the police so much to bury it," the attorney replied with mock sympathy, "By the by, does anyone want to know where Mr. Pope got all that police bribe money?"

"I'll wring your scrawny neck, you—"

"Bailiff, restrain Mr. Pope," ordered the judge.

"Aside from all his own dirty deeds done for a little more than dirt-cheap, this folder contains a list of over a hundred people, all known to the police as participants and major players in human trafficking organizations!" Robin flourished.

"Wh-What?!" Lloyd's eyes bulged.

The attorney continued, "Now, I finally see the reason behind something that's been bothering me since I started this investigation: why are all of Heron Corp's sales reps so young?"

"What are you going on about?!" Oliver shouted.

"Lyn, tell me, what do you sell?" Robin asked politely.

"Uh, insurance policies," she answered, "sometimes we check with current policy holders, too, to see if they want to renew. Most of them do."

"Do your clients call you?" he continued.

"No, we're given a list at the beginning of the day and we call everyone on it and ask a set of questions," the emerald-haired girl provided.

"Did you ever ask why that was, Lyn?" the attorney cocked an eyebrow.

Lyn blushed, "N-No... I... I didn't want to lose the job, and the managers were very strict about not saying anything... I didn't mean any harm."

He nodded, "I know you didn't. Neither did Eliwood, Hector, or Nephenee, but they were all doing Oliver Pope's dirty work without realizing it, because you know what those 'insurance policies' really are?"

"I'm on the edge of my seat!" the judge declared with wide eyes.

Robin grinned and bowed his head, "That list of names... they're a fraction of the ones Heron Corp. has assigned to its sales reps. What these kids fresh out of college have really been selling are blackmail packets! Oliver Pope has used his money and connections in illicit communities to trap sex traffickers into endless loops of paying him blackmail money in a pyramid scheme so insane it would make the greediest stockbroker blush!"

"GAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" Oliver Pope shouted, falling forward.

The court fell silent, soft and light, the slightest movement could be heard, but it wasn't because not a single man or woman even so much as shifted their feet. Everyone remained deathly quiet until the hissing of one man's breathing could be heard.

Lloyd Reed's eyes were burning, capillaries surging red along with the rest of the blood around his face filling into his cheeks, "Well, congratulations, Mr. LeBlanc. You proved that Oliver Pope is a sexual deviant, a corrupt money-grubber, and a manipulative bastard... but you know what you haven't proven? You haven't proven that he murdered Nephenee Monell, which is the entire point of this trial!"

A few murmurs spread throughout the court.

"I know that," Robin nodded, Although, I was kinda hoping you'd all forget it... "You didn't think I was finished, did you? That was just the motive for Oliver Pope to have committed the murder."

"And in what way did that... tirade establish a motive?" asked the prosecutor.

"Who do you think dug up all this dirt?" Robin smiled.

"No..." Lloyd groaned.

"That's right, Nephenee Monell herself," Robin listened to some of those returning to the court, "Nephenee found out this information about Oliver Pope when she investigated some other departments in her workplace at the urging of a third party who will remain nameless for their safety."

"So then," Lloyd Reed folded his arms, "give us the other two components: means and opportunity. Prove how and when Oliver Pope could have committed this murder."

"Sure thing," the attorney accepted, "Let me break it down this way: Oliver Pope knows these two are going to have a meeting—"

"That's still not proven," Lloyd protested.

Detective Fletcher was twirling a cigarette between his fingers, "Hate to burst your bubble, blondie, but I just got off the phone with that Nuache fella. Apparently the metadata on that email from the HR department... the email itself was deleted, but it points to being sent from the IP address coming from Ylisstol, and the ISP says it suggests it came from Mr. Pope's desktop."

The judge cleared his throat, "Ah, beg your pardon, but I'm a bit less familiar with this lingo than you young folk. What are these 'eyepeas' and 'icepeas' you're talking about?"

Robin blushed and rubbed the back of his neck, "Truth be told, I don't understand it all myself, Your Honor, but, in brief, an 'IP' is a number that can be used to track the source location of a device accessing the internet. The internet service provider or 'ISP' can help narrow that number down to specific subscribers to their network."

"I see," the judge stroked his beard, "so this information creates a sort of digital trail that can lead back to a person who used the internet?"

"In the hands of the right people, that's it exactly, Your Honor," Robin nodded.

"Ha! Well, my grandchild will be so impressed with me when I tell him I know all about 'eyepeas' now!" he chuckled.

Marks for enthusiasm, Your Honor, the attorney sighed to himself, "So, as I was saying, Oliver Pope knows he's started a fight between these two employees. He's also able to read that they're going to meet up at a certain time on a certain day, so he stays in his office after hours that day."

Lloyd had his eyes shut, "This is still nothing more than conjecture."

"Oliver knows it's time to make a move, so he plans to hide in the room and lie in wait for the two women," the attorney progressed.

"Objection!" Lloyd called, "That's impossible. No one went into that office after work hours other than Ms. Lorca and Ms. Monell, no matter how much you wish that weren't the case. It's on the records in black and white, there's no denying it."

"Not quite," Robin shook his head, "we know that only people with Lyn and Nephenee's IDs entered that room."

"Which," Lloyd slammed his fist on his desk, his voice becoming hoarse, "we already proved could only be Ms. Lorca and Ms. Monell."

"Objection!" Robin rejected, "You proved that only Lyn could have touched the victim's ID after it had been scrubbed for the week."

"Yes, so?"

"So... what about Lyn's ID?"

"You're not seriously suggesting...?

"I am," the attorney nodded, "Ms. Lorca, would you remind the court of the testimony you gave yesterday? What happened when you met with Nephenee outside of your office?"

"Huh? Uh, I followed her in."

"Exactly, you followed her in, meaning you didn't use your own ID."

"Ah...!"

"Now, Mr. Reed," Robin tapped his finger on his forehead, "would you remind the court who the first ID entered on the log around the time of the meeting was?"

Lloyd Reed grimaced, "It was... Ms. Lyndis Lorca." A wave of whispers shot through the gallery. "B-But," the prosecutor appended, "that doesn't mean that Oliver Pope used it!"

"What was it you told me?" Robin shook his head, "'Fortune doesn't smile upon you today.' Recall that the IDs of all employees were scrubbed the day of the meeting, as you posited for your suggestion about Lyn using Nephenee's ID."

"Wh-What of it?"

"I happen to have Lyn's ID here," Robin pulled out the plastic bag containing the card, "I touched it, so my fingerprints will be on it, but any other fingerprints on the ID must have been placed there that day, right?"

Lloyd growled but tacitly agreed. The judge spoke to Colm Fletcher and before long, they arranged for the item to be tested. "It's going to take a while, though," Colm advised, "so you might want to carry on."

"What more is there to say?" Robin shrugged, "If Mr. Pope touched the ID, he was able to be in the room and, thus, able to kill Nephenee and render Lyn unconscious, planting her fingerprints on the coffee mug and Nephenee's ID."

"But how do you suppose Mr. Pope might have killed Ms. Monell?" Lloyd wagged his finger, "I think you'll agree the man is pretty hard to miss, so why did Ms. Lorca not remember him at the scene?"

"I had a theory about that, too, actually," Robin nodded, "Lyn testified that she saw Nephenee lean forward and push her. Imagine if someone had been hiding behind the victim at that point: perhaps Nephenee herself was really being pushed from behind."

"Objection!" Lloyd protested, "Even if I believed her testimony, why would Ms. Lorca have lost consciousness, then? She said herself that Ms. Monell's push was not overwhelmingly strong."

"I can only imagine that, while Nephenee was indisposed, Mr. Pope moved quickly and rendered Lyn unconscious from behind," the attorney answered.

Lloyd glanced at the corpulent man before the stand, "That would be quite a feat."

"I admit it seems unlikely, but I think you'll find it's the only explanation."

"You'll recall, however, Mr. LeBlanc," the prosecutor folded his arms, "that Ms. Monell died from a contusion on the back of her head. Would you have the court assume that Mr. Pope simply beat her to death with his bare hands? That would be impossible: there would be far more damage from such a brutal assault, and DNA would likely have been extracted from Mr. Pope's hands or fingernails. We tested Mr. Pope and found no such evidence. Likewise, the victim's blood was not on any other item in the room, she could only have been murdered with the coffee mug, which had Lyn's fingerprints on it. There is no other conclusion."

"Not so fast, Mr. Reed," Robin corrected, "There was one other thing amiss with the office that hasn't gotten much play yet."

"What?!"

"Do you remember that window?"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up! It was already proven that that window couldn't have been used by any third party, it means nothing!"

"What you proved, Mr. Reed, is that no one could have entered the building through that window."

"You're saying someone left? How? Why?!"

"You've been thinking inside the box for too long, Mr. Reed. I'll answer your question with another question: why didn't anyone find any trace of Nephenee's blood other than on the coffee mug and floor?"

"Because she was killed with the coffee mug, obviously!"

"No. Because the office wasn't where she was killed."

"What?! I've never heard such gibberish before!"

"Think about it: both Lyn and Eliwood were very clear that it was raining cats and dogs that night, so any blood outside would have been washed away in an instant!"

"So?! The other explanation is just as valid!"

"Objection! That's where you're wrong. Remember the bruises along Nephenee's back?"

"The detective told us they were likely the result of a shoving match with the defendant!"

"He did, but that was because he fell for Oliver Pope's ruse. Look at Ms. Lorca: do you really think a young woman of her stature could bruise a woman with a larger build simply by pushing her? And the bruises are large and all along Nephenee's back, too. In other words, not consistent in the least with a 'shoving match.' More likely, they were the result of a fall of... let's say 120 feet, perhaps?"

"What?! You're suggesting Oliver Pope threw Nephenee Monell out of a window?! That's how he killed her?!"

"Exactly."

"And why would he do something so needlessly complex?"

"To fool you into believing exactly what you've tried to prove. That's the same reason why he created the fake controversy between the defendant and the victim: he'd been plotting to kill Nephenee all along, and so he made his last work of forgery creating a patsy in the form of Lyn!"

"Preposterous! If you say that Ms. Monell was thrown out of a window and it was pouring rain, why wasn't she wet?!"

"What if Mr. Pope put her body in a receptacle to keep it dry and bring it back to the office?"

"Madness! Madness upon madness! Why would he do such a thing?!"

"Like I said, to frame Lyn."

"But surely it would have been easier to simply make it seem as though Ms. Lorca had pushed the victim out of the window...?"

"But then there would be no physical evidence inside. Suspicion could and would be cast upon anyone who was in the office at that time, and once the police learned the things I revealed about Mr. Pope's possible motive, they most certainly would have come knocking."

"Well then, let's have it," Lloyd folded his arms, "Where is this receptacle where Mr. Pope stored the body?"

"Detective Fletcher can answer that one for you. Detective, what new evidence did you find just yesterday?"

"Ah! Th-That bag!"

"Right. A bag with a strange material lining it that made it difficult to tear open."

"You tore open my bag, you savages?!" Oliver Pope raged.

Lloyd's eyes narrowed, "You tottering dunce...!"

"Thanks for admitting that, Mr. Pope," Robin smiled, "Detective, will you tell the court what was in that bag?"

"A shirt, size XXL, some pants, size 40x32, and a whole lotta blood."

"Objection! That could be anyone's blood!"

"Anyone's blood inside Mr. Pope's own bag? Still not much of an argument."

"It could even be his own."

"Objection! If we ask medical personnel, I'm sure they could tell you that losing the amount of blood found in that bag would be a lethal prospect. All the same, we can have the blood DNA tested, and I have no doubts it will match Nephenee Monell!"

"Then do it!" Lloyd growled, slamming his fist on his desk.

"Sir!" a young policeman saluted as he trotted into the room, "They finished the fingerprint analysis on the ID: matches to Lyndis Lorca, Robin LeBlanc, and Oliver Pope."

"Wh-Wh-What?!" Lloyd's jaw practically unhinged, "This... this can't be... no, this is all a bad dream..."

"I'm afraid it's all too real," Robin slammed his hands down on his desk, "Oliver Pope! Your fingerprints are on the defendant's ID, meaning you used it, presumably to enter the office prior to her meeting with the victim, as the records indicate! Once there, you opened the window and wiped your prints off of it and hid in the office! Once you were hidden, you waited for the women to enter the room, knocked both parties unconscious and then threw the victim out the open window! You left a duffel bag in the nearby alleyway so that you could carry the victim's body back up to the office while keeping it dry so that you could seal away the last of the evidence once you replaced the body! You left the victim's body in the office as planned, then smashed the coffee mug on the victim's head to create the spray of blood that would become the physical evidence, wiped the handle down, and put the defendant's fingers on it, as well as on the victim's ID! But something went wrong then, didn't it? Someone you didn't plan for had shown up to the office: Eliwood Fremont. You replaced Lyn's ID, forgetting to wipe it, and scrambled back to your office and called the police yourself, forgetting that you had also dropped the bag along the way, but it was too late to retrieve it, so you buried your head and hid in your office until Lyn was arrested! You killed Nephenee Monell because she was going to expose your whole sick operation to the world!"

The fat man shook. First with rage, then with laughter, his face growing redder and redder all the while until he looked like a plump strawberry, or an underripe plum. After several minutes of shouting and laughing and expelling every bit of his breath, he let out a long, deep sigh and spit, "You... can't pin this on me. I'm... I'm a businessman, an entrepreneur, a... a genius. I'm beautiful, I'm perfect. And you... you're so contemptibly ugly! You... you...!"

"Have I said something untrue, Mr. Pope?" Robin held his hands behind his back.

"You...! I'll crush you! I'll bury you! I'll end you the way I ended that stupid girl, too! You can't besmirch my name! You can't indict me! I'm invincible! I own everyone!" He began frothing at the mouth.

The judge banged his gavel, "That will be quite enough of that sordid display. Bailiff, please remove Mr. Pope from this courtroom."

It took over twenty minutes to silence the wave of excitement that spread through the court following those final remarks. During that time, Prosecutor Reed turned his back on his bench and walked out of the courtroom. The blood tests came back to Detective Fletcher and proved a positive match for Nephenee Monell. Lyndis Lorca wept softly behind the defense bench, and Heather Luxberg, hearing the news broadcast over the radio, dipped her head and felt a few tears roll down her cheeks as well. Robin LeBlanc spent those minutes gasping for breath, wondering where the hell he had been for the last three hours. When all was settled and the judge's voice had nearly given out from shouting and directing the bailiff, he pounded his gavel three times in rapid succession and ordered silence for the court. "If this court will come to order, it is my understanding that the jury has reached its verdict, and I will now take a moment to confer with them." The court waited in feverish silence while he did so. The gray-bearded man cleared his throat once the whispering was finished, "After conferring with the jury, in accordance with the law, this court finds Lyndis Lorca, on the charge of the first-degree murder of Nephenee Monell... Not guilty."

A few cheers and whistles rang out, photographs were taken, and in a blur, Robin was somehow ushered back out into the defense lobby.

[October 10th, 1:32 pm, District Court-Defendant Lobby No. 4]

"Mr. LeBlanc!" As soon as Robin turned around, he found his wrists seized by the no-longer-manacled hands of a gleeful Lyndis Lorca. Her emerald eyes sparkled as they greeted his and she seemed to be vibrating with a pure, joyous energy as she bounded up and down, holding his wrists like one holds their own child when he has fallen.

"I take it you're pleased with my services?" the attorney smiled.

She wrapped him in a hug, "So happy. So very, very happy! I can't tell you how much I owe you!"

"You don't owe me anything, Lyn," he hazarded a friendly pat on the back, "You—well, your brother asked for a service and I rendered it, that's all."

"But my life would have been over if not for you!"

"I don't know about that!"

"Oh, you must let me take you to dinner some night!"

"That's really not necessary..."

"But it is! Oh, I'm sure daddy will give you all the lobster and steak you can ear when he learns what you did for me!"

"Well, maybe that wouldn't be bad," Robin supposed, saliva welling up in his cheeks at the mere thought of a good steak, moist and hot. He tried to restrain himself.

"Hey, kid!" Robin turned again. Colm was smoking in his direction. "Not bad," the detective said simply, "You got balls goin' up against Lloyd Reed, I'll tell ya that. Seems like ya pissed 'im off pretty good, too."

"Thanks, Detective Fletcher," Robin smiled, "I guess. Where is Prosecutor Reed?"

"He took off," the blue-haired detective looked toward the door, "Maybe he just couldn't handle it."

"Maybe," the attorney turned his attention in the same direction, half-expecting the prosecutor to appear in that very spot, "I know there were a few times I wanted to turn tail and run, too."

"Well, good thing ya didn't," Colm smirked, "Woulda deprived me o' that show. Oh, and don't worry, Pope is getting put away for a long time. I mean long. Fella's sweating bullets, and he should be. Even murderers and thieves don't take kindly to the sorta messed up crap he pulled."

"The thanks for that goes to Nephenee," the attorney acknowledged, "she put her life on the line to get that info out there, and she paid the price. It's only fair Oliver pays it, too."

Two more figures were entering the lobby, "Good show, Mr. LeBlanc, good show!"

"Thank you, Mr. Fremont," he grinned, "Uh, sorry about questioning you, Hector."

"Nah, it's cool, you did whatcha had to do," the young man conceded, "and you were right in the end, so what can I say? I can't believe I was working for a scumbag like Pope. I'd break that guy's gods-damn neck myself if I thought I could get away with it."

"It is a small pity we'll be out of a job, though," Eliwood sighed.

Lyn piped up, "You know, my daddy knows quite a lot of people in the business world. I could put in a good word for you guys, I'm sure he knows someone who'd appreciate the help."

"Really?" the redhead's eyes widened, "That'd be brilliant! Thank you, Lyn."

"It's no problem, I'd have been sunk without you guys," she hugged each of her co-workers, though her arms didn't fit around Hector's waist.

As the trio chattered for a few minutes between themselves, Robin felt his pocket vibrate and pulled out his phone, "Hello?"

"Hello, Mr. LeBlanc."

"Heather?"

"In the flesh."

"Are you calling from the detention center?"

"No, my boys bailed me outta that mess."

"Your 'boys?'"

"I thought I'd let you know, seeing as how you got me into that jam but also put Pope on ice."

"Know what?"

"Keep it under wraps now, you hear?"

"What?"

"Let me put it this way: investigating Oliver Pope wasn't all Nephenee's idea."

"Are you talking about corporate espionage?"

"If you asked me that question, I'd say no."

"Gotcha."

"Under wraps, got me?"

"Understood. But why tell me at all?"

"Like I said, you gave me some closure. I thought I'd do the same for you. Plus... who knows, maybe we'll see each other again. You're certainly going after the right people."

"I'm just taking what falls into my lap."

There was a laugh on the other end of the line, "All right, if you say so. Later days, Mr. LeBlanc."

"Robin is fine," he heard her hang up.

Rath Tolstoy had entered and broken up the trio, sticking protectively to his half-sister as he glared at the others with sharp, hawklike eyes. He looked at Robin, "You did some nice work, Mr. Lawyer. I'll see that you're compensated accordingly."

For some reason, the attorney felt a little boldness stirring in his chest, "Is that your money or your father's?"

The mafioso gave him a smirk, a mixed frown, "None of it's dirty, if that's what you're askin'. Just don't go causin' us problems, and we won't pay you no mind."

"Fine," he settled.

"Oh," Lyn shook her half-brother a bit, "Rath, I invited Mr. LeBlanc to dinner. We didn't decide on a date yet, but I think it'd be lovely, don't you?"

"Maybe, if you let me hang around," he smiled at her.

"Oh, Rath, you know you can't scope out my dates forever."

"I can try."

"Fine, fine, we can make it a slightly bigger party, then. Mr. LeBlanc, do you have a plus one you might want to bring along?"

Robin glanced at his phone, "I might have someone in mind."

Looking back on it now, I wonder if that trial wasn't where it all really started. It was my first high-profile takedown, after all. Sure, I'd gone after an assassin the previous trial, but he wasn't much more than a cog in the machine compared to Oliver. If only I'd thought to ask more questions at the time. Who messed with Eliwood's phone and how? Who was Heather working for? Later, when I learned more, I started to wonder how I had been led to catch Oliver so easily, almost as if someone was leading me there... but I didn't have time to worry about it then, and I may have even less now. I wish I had a better reason for why I let things go at the end of that trial, but I didn't. It would make me pretty upset with myself if something strange but miraculous hadn't fallen into my lap shortly thereafter...

[Turtledove Turnabout ~ End]