August 5, 6:55 A.M. James Madison High School, Band Room

I was quite excited. Somehow, I has managed to find my trombone, which, after all of these years, was still in my possession. I first headed into Bethany's office to see if I would even be allowed to participate in marching band.

"Ms. Andrews! I see you've been waiting for me!"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I have been!"

"I bet… so, I'd like to you what you think would be the best thing to do."

"You mean, whether you should join marching band or just go home?"

"Yeah."

"Mr. Wright, I have debated that for a long time. I debated with myself whether or not I was going to make the right decision. And here's what I've decided: I think you would make a great addition to our band. First, because our band has gone through a lot in the past few weeks. You helped get me a Not Guilty verdict, and find the true culprits behind Reggie's murder. Second, because I think you would be a great inspiration to our current members. You have a particular way of inspiring people to continue forward and not to give up in times of conflict. Take your trombone! Be proud! You're part of the Warhawk Marching Band!"

"Thanks for everything, Ms. Andrews. It's a pleasure to work with everyone."

"No problem."

I walked out of Bethany's office, with my trombone. As soon as I turned the corner, I entered a room with large, panelized mirrors at the rear which had recently been cleaned.

The chairs had been stacked and placed on racks, as had the stands. Only the band director's podium stood in the room still. There were groups of high school students standing next to each other while talking endlessly. I didn't pay much attention to them, despite my excitement.

I then heard a girl's voice call out from behind me.

"Mr. Wright!"

I turned around, and noticed Jaci Summers standing in the instrument storage room. Her straight, dirty blonde hair and bluish-grey eyes caught my attention.

"Mr. Wright, the rest of the section is in here."

I reminded her with a laugh, "You can always call me Phoenix. Or Nick. Or Wright."

I made my way into the storage room, hoping that what was waiting for me was not a displeased group of mid-teenagers that were ready to start asking for my testimony. Surely a few of them knew who I was.

As soon as I made my entrance, the first thing I saw were eyes looking up at me. Surely the same sort of reaction in Japan when an American walks into a bullet train. All of them surely thought something like, "Yikes, who is this dude?"

The next thing that I saw was that the freshmen all got together in their own circle of talking, while leaving everyone else to chat with each other. Clearly they felt different from the rest of the section, even me.

About 10 seconds later, she said, "Could I have everyone's attention for a moment?"

Everybody looked at Jaci, including the hesitant freshmen, who were completely unsure if Jaci was leading the section, or was just an upperclassman that was trying to gather them up for hazing purposes.

"Hello, everyone! I am your section leader for this year! My name is Jaclyn Summers. Or as everyone knows me, Jaci. First, I'd like to get to know you'll better, especially if you are new. I know it's awkward right now, but later it'll all be fine! This year, we have 3 'returners'. They are Matt, Jadon, and Sam."

Two guys and a girl near me raised their hands and waved, as if they were too scared to respond by saying something yet they wanted to make it known that they existed.

"So now I'd like to get to know all you freshmen. Could you please raise your hand if you are a freshman, please?"

A total of 4 freshmen rose their hands into the air.

"Perfect!" she exclaimed with gusto. "Now, who wants to introduce themselves first?"

One of the guys, who had brown hair and was eagerly awaiting to be called on, raised his hand and answered, "Jaci, my name is Alec. As you can see, I'm a freshman. So I have absolutely no idea what we're going to be doing today, but I'm really feeling it!"

"Ha ha. Good jokes, as always. That's a plus when making your first impression."

"Jaci…", said another freshman, another guy, "I'm Curtis. And that's all there is to it."

The section leader sneered, "Curtis, I personally thank you for keeping it short. We only have limited time to chat before we have to start."

Next, another guy rose his hand. He wore a green shirt with an image of Link on it. His brown eyes made contact with Jaci's. He proudly announced, "The name is Harry. Jaci, I am ready to serve you for all that will arrive!"

Jaci yelled, "Way to go! And what about you?" she said to the last remaining freshman, a girl with red hair that looked hesitant to say anything.

"Uh, yeah?" she muttered. "I'm, I'm Karrigan. Karrigan Fermi. I'm, ya know… a little nervous about marching band and all. I really don't have anything else to say, really."

Jaci smiled even wider.

"It looks like everyone has introduced themselves! We can now move on with our day!"

At this point, no one except Jaci cared that I was there, so I made my presence known in a way that I used time and time again in my profession.

"Objection!"

I pointed my finger at Jaci and glared at her. I yelled, "Hold it right there! There's another person yet to introduce themselves, and the roster list proves it!"

Jaci laughed. Everyone else just stared at me.

"Hello, everyone. My name is Phoenix Wright."

Karrigan asked, "Phoenix… Wright? I think I've heard of the name before."

"You may have heard of me before because I'm known for my ability to turn my clients' cases around. You might be wondering why I'm here. The truth is that after that whole series of events around the late Mr. Simmons… I felt it was necessary to do something to help you out. So I decided… to return to marching band, to the days of ten years ago."

Jaci answered, "And that is why Mr. Wright is here, everyone. And with that I believe that everyone is here. And with that I feel that it's time we should get ready for the festivities."

"Festivities?"

She giggled and replied, "Oh, you know, getting to learn how to be called to attention and how to actually mark on a field, that sorta thing?"

I sighed, "Yep. I just hope I'm ready."

From there we all walked out of the instrument storage room and we then stood in the actual band room, and we all sort of massed around the band director's podium in a great sea of uncertainty, waiting for more direction. That was when a very energetic Ms. Andrews appeared and began to get everyone in order.

She yelled, "Good morning! It's such a pleasure to be here at Band Camp once again! And this time, we're actually going to complete the week!"

Everyone in the room screamed and cheered, including myself (who, despite my marching band spirit having been in dormancy for nearly 10 years, was suddenly re-animated.)

"And now, I would like to welcome someone new into the band room today. He was in marching band all through high school and even into college, and after that ended up becoming one of the greatest defense attorneys we could ever ask for! Mr. Phoenix Wright, welcome back!"

The whole room erupted into clapping and cheering, and I couldn't help but smile sheepishly and look towards Ms. Andrews. I couldn't believe that I had saved herself and two of her students from wrongful prosecution.

"Thank you, everybody," I said. "It's a pleasure being here. I can't actually believe that I'm here…"

Ms. Andrews replied, "I'm sure of it. I think that right now would be the perfect time to practice some marching techniques. After all, it's been weeks since we've last rehearsed."

Some of the students raised their arms in excitement and cheered, before getting up from their chairs and leaving for what lied ahead: the football field outside. There was a door near the back of the band room through which myself and everyone else who was there exited through. It led straight to the field.

The field itself was an artificial field, perfectly level. From back in the band room, it looked like perfection, and it truly was. But when you would get closer, you could see that the "grass" was really just strands of material sticking out of a layer of small, black pellets. But it was level and looked tidy.

It was then when the band members began to find their spots in a rectangular formation.

"What is this?" I asked Jaci.

She said, "This is Drill Block. This is the neutral formation which we use to check our drill and stuff, practice marching, you name it!"

"Well, uh, where do I stand?"

Jaci pulled out a piece of folded-up paper from a small nail bag that she was wearing around her waist. On one side, 8 clothespins were attached, all with different colors.

She answered, "Actually, you're right behind me! Make sure you're in line with everyone to the left or right of you when you're in the formation."

After getting myself in line, we began to wait until everyone else had found their spots in Drill Block.

A few more minutes passed, and then I heard Ms. Andrews clap her hands four times in rapid succession and say, "Band ten hut!"

Everyone besides me yelled back in response, "Attack!"

"All right! Let's start off with some stretches! Pull one arm across… then the other…"

Karrigan, who was standing behind me, sneered, "I think we're the only marching band in the state that stretches before they march."

I replied, "That's not too far off from the truth, really. I'm not sure of the purpose behind them, anyway."

After a series of quad pulls and calf stretches, Greg Hanson, one of the drum majors, called out a phrase that made the whole field erupt into cheers.

"It's time for some Wacky Jacks!"

I immediately recognized the phrase and remembered that we did these in years past. Essentially, a "Wacky Jack" is when one jumps up into the air on one foot with one arm extended, then repeats the process on the other leg. I had loved them in the past, and even though it had been 10 years since I had done some, my memory still possessed a recognition of them.

And so we began to do them, counting out loud as we did so.

"One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! One! Two! Three! Four! One! Two! Three! Four! One! Two! One! Two! One! One! One! One!"

On the last Wacky Jack, we raised our arms into the air and, much to our glee, attempt to wake Greater Los Angeles with the resulting noise.

"YAAAAAAAY!"

Ms. Andrews now said, "Let's get this marching goodness going! But first, I'm going to have to explain marching for those who aren't familiar with it. I know this is going to sound extremely morbid, but imagine as if your body was cut in half. This is sorta how it works while you're marching. Half of your body moves, and the other remains still while you play!"

I never knew marching band and mutilation had so much in common.

She continued, "Anyway, you have to take somewhat awkward steps while you march. These are called roll steps, because you have to roll from your heel to the balls of your feet. Imagine like you're trying to squeeze toothpaste out of a tube! I think that you would get a better idea if we were to do this in sectionals!"

And so Jaci gathered us into a small group, making sure that no other section had the potential issue of running into us.

"So let's do this! I'd like all of you to get on the 45 yard line. Try and make sure your heels are in line. We're first just going to march 8 steps forward."

I readied myself and prepared to be way off our intended close point, the 40 yard line.

"Mark time, mark… forward march!"

As I marched forward as best as an attorney could the remainder of the "returners" counted aloud together.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, hit, close!"

Jaci checked the positions of our feet. We all ended up in around the same spot, give or take a few inches forward or back.

She said, "That's pretty good. I think we should do that again just to ensure that we can, you know, march consistently."

So we repeated this process once more, and the result was the same.

"That looks good. I think we just need a bit of individual practice, and these few issues with distance will be fixed. Bring it in!"

All of the section members, minus the freshmen and me, placed their hands in the center of a circle they created.

I asked, "Uh, Jaci… is this some section tradition or something?"

"It is, haha! You just stick your hand into the center and I count down from 3, and when it reaches one, we all yell 'Disperse!"

Sounds fantastic.

"Three! Two! One! Disperse!"