The Whimper

They were rushed to trial, waiving the right to a jury trial to speed the process. What might normally start with confirmation that a trial was needed, then leading to weeks or months of waiting for the real event, had been condensed into bringing together lawyers for the state, asking each side's willingness to continue, and accepting the offer of a respected old judge to come briefly out of retirement so as to avoid interfering with the other hearings already booked. Less than a week after the damning audio reached public ears, they were underway. This was just as well, as the Utoniums and the mayor (and just about anyone on the street if you asked their opinion) felt, for various reasons, that the girls should keep out of school.

Nobody had minded moving this along. Especially when Professor and, at his suggestion, his daughters cooperated every step of the way. Even long before they being sworn to it, they told only truth. They left out only details that did not change their situation and which they could not prove, such as that half the audio on those tapes wasn't actually spoken by them.

But all the same, they pleaded not guilty, even when the judge and, for that matter, the offense pointed out that their admissions were going to be mentioned when official matters began. In any case, that brief meeting had been enough to establish the need for the trial they were now undertaking.

So when the withered old judge once again found himself banging a gavel, he smiled when Gregory stood, expecting this would be good. Hoping it would be, as speaking out of turn was not generally tolerated.

"Yes, Mister Turner?" the judge asked.

"Your honor, I received a phone call a short while ago. Professor Utonium wishes to apologize for his tardiness, but says the delay was due to an urgent matter relevant to this hearing. If it please your honor, may you instruct the--"

"Yes, yes," the judge interrupted, dismissing the matter with a flick of his wrist, anticipating the request to permit entry while proceedings were in progress. "Bailiff, if the good Professor should make an appearance, have him escorted directly. Now, on to opening statements."

So on they went. The girls, uncertain what had prompted the delay, knew only that they'd awoken to find a note telling them to go on without him and that he had something to take care of.

The offense went first, explaining the grievances of the state, simply saying what was obvious to everyone at that point.

Gregory Turner spoke next, again stating merely the obvious. Bringing into question the very definition of blood relatives, reminding all that the act had occurred after the girls were, for legal purposes, eighteen years of age. (Their true date of birth remained a secret only the Professor and Him shared, but in any case previous legal concerns had led to a ruling that, unless overturned, would have made that tidbit irrelevant.)

The judge again confirmed that the defense was admitting to a sexual act "between the parties in question," and after an uncertain pause Gregory affirmed this before reaffirming his clients' plea of "not guilty."

While Gregory was in the process of pointing out that the act in question had also been consensual under sound mind and body, Professor Utonium was led into the room. He was panting, clutching a folder to his chest.

"Not...sisters... Not..." he spat, grimacing with each word. He clutched the folder tighter, wrinkling it in his grip. To everyone's shock he dropped to the floor.

His girls were at his side immediately. Blossom looked inside her father, to the problem within.

"He's having a heart attack," she called. She was alert. Fired up. But she was also calm and commanding. She hadn't remained her sisters' leader for nothing.

Professor, still conscious but in pain, held out the folder to Blossom with a trembling hand. She snatched it, ignoring it for now as she tried to ease her father into a half-sitting position with his knees bent. The bailiff was already calling for medical attention.

"It's all right, girl," the judge intoned. "Go ahead and get him to the hospital. This can wait."

Blossom nodded grimly, picking her father up in her arms. She hadn't realized she'd passed the folder to Buttercup. Buttercup was hardly aware she'd taken hold of it.

Blossom blew out one of the windows with a puff of breath, blasting the glass safely away before she flew through in a rush with the Professor.

"What's that there?" Gregory asked, nodding at the folder. Buttercup, who'd been debating whether she should ask permission to leave, still hadn't noticed it, and was surprised to see it had found its way to her hands. She shrugged and handed it over.

"You, too, girls," the judge said. "I think this is sufficient cause for a brief recess. Go and be with your father."

While the others discussed whether temporary repairs to the window were in order, or whether they should move to another room, Gregory flipped through the folder that had been delivered at such great cost.

It took him a while to decipher what he was looking at. It didn't take long to see that it was some kind of genetic testing; he'd seen a few paternity tests in his time. But somewhere in the middle, he found the actual results. The core of the matter buried like a footnote in the material supporting it.

"My God," Gregory muttered. "They're--"