Chapter 23—Deceived
February 24, 2017
"Court is now in session for the trial of Ms. Lana Skye," Judge Clous said with a whack of his gavel.
"The defense is ready, Your Honor," Wright said.
"The prosecution is…" Miles trailed off. "Hmph," he laughed.
"…Hmph?" the judge repeated. "I'm afraid you'll have to clarify."
"It takes 30 minutes by car to reach criminal affairs from the Prosecutor's Office." Though it's closer to 45 in San Diego's typical traffic… "The victim, Bruce Goodman, was slain at both places at the same time."
"But, that's not physically possible, is it?" the judge asked. "What's more, I hear the victim from the evidence room just 'disappeared'!"
"Yes, and the body eventually reappeared in the trunk of Mr. Edgeworth's car," Ema added.
Just my luck for the one Lana didn't do to be the fake murder.
"One of my duties as prosecutor is to present impartial evidence," Miles said. "Today I will present evidence relating to the murder at the Police Department. In so doing, I believe the way in which we should proceed will reveal itself."
"Now that's what sets Mr. Edgeworth apart," Ema commented. "He sounds so on top of things even though he doesn't know what's going on himself!"
"And that's supposed to be an admirable trait?" Wright replied.
Hah! The evidence found in the other investigation makes it obvious what happened! I just wish it wasn't true…
The judge banged his gavel.
"Very well," he said, "let the trial resume. On the day of the crime, what exactly transpired at the Police Department? Mr. Edgeworth, you may call your first witness of the day to the stand."
"For its first witness," Miles said, "the prosecution calls the suspect of the murder that occurred at the Police Department!"
"The suspect!? You mean, the so-called murderer!?"
The gallery started up as Wright began sweating. Meekins took the stand.
"Will the witness please state his name and occupation," Miles requested.
"Yes, sir!" Meekins replied, saluting. "I am Officer Mike Meekins, sir! My occupation is, um…" he banged his fist onto a heavily bandaged hand and continued, "that would be murderer, sir!"
Idiot…
"Er…" the judge grumbled. "So you're telling us you're a 'professional killer'…"
"Sir. It was me, sir! I'm the one who did it! I'll never kill anyone again, sir! YOU'VE GOT TO BELIEVE ME, SIR!"
We can do without the loudspeaker, Meekins. Your voice is obnoxious enough on its own.
"Uh… Actually, what we'd like to hear from you is…"
"Sir! I'm what you would call part of the 'younger generation,' sir! A PERSON WHOSE ACTIONS ADULTS CAN'T POSSIBLY COMPREHEND!"
You're a person whose actions even Sigmund Freud wouldn't understand.
"Please, Mr. Edgeworth, sir!" the judge begged. "Help me, sir!"
Great. It's contagious.
Miles pounded on his desk. "Officer Meekins," he said flatly.
"Y-yes, sir!" Meekins responded, saluting again.
"Give us your report of the crime. Consider that an order."
"Yes, sir! As you wish! After all, I am part of a generation that must be told what to do, sir!"
No, you're part of an IQ level that must be told what to do.
"You can't fault him for a lack of enthusiasm," Ema commented.
"Although it's not my normal duty," Meekins said, "I was assigned to guard the evidence room that day! I spotted a suspicious man on the security screen, and rushed into the room! I was only doing what I was trained to do, sir! I was suddenly attacked! I FOUGHT FOR MY LIFE! THEN I… I DID IT! After that I passed out… until another officer smacked me awake!"
"Hmm," the judge mumbled. "So the victim, Detective Goodman, attacked you?"
"'DO UNTO OTHERS BEFORE THEY DO UNTO YOU'! That's the Meekins family motto, sir!"
"I see. Then you fainted, and a colleague helped you regain consciousness."
"Yes, sir! He knocked me upside the head, sir!"
"Very well. The defense may begin its cross-examination."
"Mr. Meekins," Wright said. "You work in the General Affairs Department, do you not?"
"Yes, sir!" Meekins replied. "I am in charge of hiring new recruits, sir!"
No wonder the Police Department's average IQ has been dropping.
"Evidence transferal was taking place on the day of the crime," Miles stated, "which meant many officers were given special tasks not ordinarily performed."
"I was in charge of guarding the Blue Badger, sir!" Meekins said, somewhat proud.
"The Blue Badger?" the judge asked.
"Yes, sir. The lovely police mascot created by the Head Detective, sir! I was to ensure it wasn't broken during the transferal process. That was my sole mission for the day, sir!"
"I see. Sounds like a very… uh, important mission."
"After the award ceremony finished that day, there were so many people running around that I relocated the Blue Badger to the evidence room!"
"Oh… So that's why you went to the evidence room."
"Tell us…" Miles said, "what did you see when you got there?"
"I spotted a suspicious man on the security screen, and rushed into the room!" Meekins almost screamed.
"Hold it!" Wright interrupted. "In order to enter the evidence room, you need an ID card, am I correct?"
"Precisely, sir! I have one right here around my neck!"
"So then, your ID number should be listed in here, right?"
Wright was holding up a sheet of paper. The ID Card Record, no doubt. Meekins was handed the paper.
"THERE IT IS! I FOUND IT! This is the one right here."
"Could you please read us the number?" the judge requested.
"Yes, sir! It's '4989596.' That's my number, sir!"
"I see…" Wright said. "Huh? But the number 4989596… is shown as being used twice!"
Miles hit his desk. "Please explain, witness," he ordered.
"It's n-no real mystery, sir!" Meekins answered. "The first time is when I relocated Blue Badger to the evidence room, and the second time is when I went to go get him after everything settled down."
"I see," the judge said. "So it was during that second time when?"
"Yes, sir! That was when I spotted the man on the security screen! I was only doing what I was trained to do, sir! I was suddenly attacked!"
"Hold it!" Wright yelled. "So you were attacked… Can you please tell us exactly what happened to you?"
"It was a knife, sir! A knife!"
"Detective Goodman pulled a knife on you?" the judge asked. "What happened then?"
"Well, with me charging in on him like that, he looked as surprised as I was! That's when I reacted, sir! I swung my arms like an octopus, struggling to detain him! That's how I got this gash on my hand."
How did this idiot get into the force?
"Maybe if you'd just kept your cool your hand wouldn't be…" Ema trailed off.
"When I saw the blood trickling down my arm, I panicked!" Meekins continued. "I grabbed the man by his collar! I FOUGHT FOR MY LIFE! THEN I… I DID IT!"
"Hold it!" Wright shouted. "What exactly do you mean when you say you, 'did it'?"
"I know I don't look the type, but I'm really into kung fu films, sir!"
Maybe you should have learned it yourself rather than just watched actors pretend to do it…
"The man let his guard down for just an instant, so I snatched his knife from him!" Meekins exclaimed.
"You took his knife?" Wright asked, sweat running down his face.
"I spun him around and performed a disarming maneuver! I made sure to close my eyes like a man!"
"I, uh, see…"
If this fool gets off the hook, I'm going to demand that he go through training again.
"The next thing I knew," Meekins said, "his white coat was drenched in a sea of my blood, and then… Then, the next thing I knew…"
"Yes?" the judge insisted.
"HE PUNCHED ME RIGHT IN MY FACE, SIR! After that I passed out… until another officer smacked me awake!"
"Hold it!" Wright barked. "About what time did you regain consciousness?"
"No offense, sir, but how am I supposed to know that? I was unconscious!"
"Oh… right."
"According to the report from the officer that woke up the witness, it was about 5:30," Miles said.
"He hit me right in the head too!" Meekins cried.
Well, it's not as if there's anything in there…
"I WOKE UP CRYING TEARS OF PAIN!" the witness continued.
"That's nice…" the judge said. "Er, I mean… it's nice that you recovered, that is…"
"When I came around though, I made sure to finish my mission, sir!"
"Your 'mission'…?" Wright asked.
"Yes, sir! The Blue Badger, sir! I returned him to the entrance before things got out of hand!"
Personally, I'd do something about that bleeding hand first.
The judge banged his gavel. "I believe we now have a fairly accurate picture of what happened," he said.
"Yes, Your Honor," Miles agreed. "Only one thing remains unclear. Was the man this officer 'murdered,' really the victim?"
"Um…" Meekins cut in.
"Yes, Officer Meekins?" the judge asked.
"With regard to that, sir…" He took out a blue video cassette. "Take a look at this. It was sent to my cell. Chief Gant delivered it to me just this morning sir!"
"The Chief?" Miles asked. Why wasn't I told about this?
"Delivered it…?" Wright finished.
"What is that?" the judge asked. "A… videotape?"
"Yes, sir! Meekins answered. "That's absolutely right, sir! A videotape, sir! IT CONTAINS FOOTAGE FROM THE SECURITY CAMERA IN THE EVIDENCE ROOM."
"Objection!" Miles roared, banging on his desk. "What!? But I specifically asked if there was such a tape, and was told it had been mistakenly erased!"
"That's quite a mistake," the judge said.
There are too many miscommunications for this all to be accidental. Someone in the Department must be trying to get me in trouble! But why!?
"I just do what I'm told, sir," Meekins sobbed. "It's the only thing I'm really good at."
The judge banged his gavel. "Well then, let's have a look!" he said. "Show us the video of you murdering the victim!"
"Oh… Please stop using hat word, 'murder,' sir! It scares me!"
The bailiff brought in a television and played the tape. Some wriggling piece of plywood was dancing around on-screen. What looked like Detective Goodman walked by the camera and opened his locker. Something fell out. The camera panned away. A moment later, Meekins walked over and confronted "Goodman." The camera panned back to the entrance. When it panned back, "Goodman" pulled a knife on the idiot. The two proceeded to fight, but the camera panned away. When the camera panned back, "Goodman" was nowhere to be seen and Meekins was lying against the wall, unconscious.
Miles was hunched over his desk when the video stopped.
"Well, I believe we're all thinking the same thing," the judge said, breaking the silence. "How can we deal with these unsettling feelings stirred within us…?"
Miles hit his desk. "What the hell was that wriggling piece of plywood!?" he barked.
"Sir!" Meekins replied, saluting. "That is the pride and joy of the entire Criminal Affairs Department, sir! It's the Blue Badger, sir!"
That thing is the Blue Badger that Gumshoe was talking so proudly about!?
"Yes, well anyway…" the judge said, "this tape seems to prove that the witness did indeed encounter… er, 'someone' in the evidence room, and some sort of… er, 'activity' did take place…"
Miles slammed his desk. "Your Honor…" he said, "instead of relying on clearly incomplete footage, the witness's testimony will suffice." He pointed at Meekins. "Is that alright with you, Officer Meekins?"
"Yes, sir!" Meekins exclaimed. "As you wish, sir! His face can't be clearly seen in the video, but there's no question that the other person was Detective Goodman, sir! I mean, he opened the locker, which required Detective Goodman's fingerprint to do! The locker he opened is unquestionably Detective Goodman's locker, sir! SO IT MUST BE HIM! NO ONE ELSE COULD HAVE UNLOCKED IT!"
"What's this about a fingerprint?" the judge asked.
"Each detective has been given a locker, equipped with a fingerprint-activated lock," Miles explained. "These locks ensure that each locker can only be opened by the detective it belongs to."
"Intriguing… That would mean… the victim at the crime scene would have to have been Detective Goodman."
Using that logic alone, yes, but it's impossible for Goodman to have been there.
"Very well!" the judge continued. "The defense may begin its cross-examination!"
"Tell me, were you able to get a good look at him?" Wright asked Meekins. "At the face of the man who attacked you with a knife?"
"S-sir!" Meekins barked. "If you must label people as having 'seen' or 'not seen' the man's face… I believe I would be classified as… the latter?"
"The latter? But you were standing right in front of him, were you not?"
"More to the point," the judge added, "you are the person who fought him, aren't you?"
"Oh, yes sir!" Meekins replied. "But… I didn't get a clear look at his face, sir. I'm not the kind of guy who looks directly at people when talking with them, you see…"
This from a man who makes a living out of confronting criminals…
"STILL, I'M SURE IT WAS HIM!" Meekins whined through his megaphone. "I'D BET MY BADGE ON IT!"
"But you don't know that for sure, do you?" Wright asked. "You never actually saw Detective Goodman's face."
"Well… I suppose you might say that. That is, if you must label people as having 'seen' or 'not seen' it."
"Since his face can't be identified in the video, only you can verify it," the judge said.
"W-w-why is everyone l-looking at me? If I had to label your stares as 'disturbing' or—"
Miles hit his desk. "Meekins!" he shouted.
"Eek!" Meekins's handcuffs caught on the strap holding his ID and he choked briefly.
If I had to label this guy as" low IQ" or "negative IQ", I believe he would be classified as the latter.
"Having seen a questionable video at best," Miles said, "we are not in the best of moods. Now please be more certain when you testify!"
"Y-y-yes, sir!" Meekins stuttered.
"You claimed the man who brandished a knife on you was Bruce Goodman. Tell us why you are positive it was him!"
"I mean, he opened the locker, which required Detective Goodman's fingerprint to do! The locker he opened is unquestionably Detective Goodman's locker, sir! SO IT MUST BE HIM! NO ONE ELSE COULD HAVE UNLOCKED IT!"
"Hold it!" Wright shouted, slamming his desk. "However, the most important detail is not shown in this video… the man's face!"
"S-sir! If I may say something, sir!"
"Please do," the judge said. "After all, you are the one being examined."
"I don't understand why the man's face is so important in this case, sir! I mean, it was his hand that opened the fingerprint lock… and it was his hand that tried to thrust his knife into my body, sir! MY UNSETTLED STATE CAN TESTIFY ENOUGH TO THIS, SIR!"
"Yes, you have a point. The footage doesn't lie."
"That is… unless the defense can find a problem with it?" Miles taunted.
"Mr. Wright!" Ema chirped. "Let's check the Court Record again!"
Wright looked at his information.
"Regarding the video contained on this tape," he said, "there is one thing in particular that seems rather strange."
"Strange?" the judge asked.
"This contradiction leads to the possibility that…" He hit his desk. "the man may not be Detective Goodman."
"What? This video contains such a contradiction?"
"Objection!" Miles shouted. He then smiled tauntingly and shrugged. "Interesting… Your Honor, I have a proposal.
"Yes, Mr. Edgeworth?"
"I propose we have the defense point out to us this alleged 'contradiction' in the video."
"Very well, proposal accepted," the judge said. "Let us further inspect this piece of evidence." He banged his gavel. "I will now play the security tape. Mr. Wright. Please show us this contradiction you speak of."
"You can do it, Mr. Wright!" Ema said. "It's set up so you can Fast Forward, Rewind or Pause the video. Just take a good look and be sure to point out the right thing!"
"Please don't play it too many times," Meekins requested. "I-I can't stand watching this video!"
And I can't stand this soon-to-be-impoverished imbecile's whining.
"Now then, Mr. Wright," the judge said. "Please enlighten us! Where is the contradiction that indicates the man may not be Detective Goodman?"
Wright pressed the pause button on the remote control when the camera took its first look at Goodman's locker. He then slammed his desk and pointed at the locker.
"The thing that's strange about this video… has got to be this!" He looked at Meekins. "Officer Meekins."
"Sir!" he barked, saluting. "D-do you mean me, sir?"
"As I understand it, the locker apparatus works like this: When you grab the handle, a sensor reads your fingerprint. If the print matches the registered data, the light turns on and the lock is released."
"A-according to my very limited experience, that's the way I understand it, sir!"
Wright banged on his desk. "If so, then something is seriously wrong with this picture!" He had the video play again from the start. He paused it when "Goodman" reached for the locker door. "When the victim reaches for the handle to open the locker… Let's rewind to a little earlier…" The video rewound to the first time the camera was pointing at the locker. "Here! Notice the light?"
"What's this!?" the judge blathered. "It's… already lit!"
Wright nodded. "Precisely my point, Your Honor. The locker was already open before the victim grabbed the handle!"
"AAAAAAHHH!!" Meekins screeched, choking himself with his ID strap again.
The judge banged his gavel to silence the gallery.
"Order!" he barked. "Order! What's the meaning of this!?"
"It's very simple, Your Honor," Wright answered. "The locker wasn't locked on the day of the crime!"
"Objection!" Miles yelled. He struck his desk with his right hand. "But the locker locks are controlled by an electronic system. When a door is shut, a sensor is triggered and the locker is automatically locked!"
"Oh, I know!" the judge chimed in. "It must have broken down! Of course, I'm not an expert in this…"
"That's not likely, Your Honor. The sensor would detect and report any malfunction."
"Oh well. It just goes to show novices should keep their mouths shut."
If every novice did that, I'd be on death row.
"So then, Mr. Wright," the judge continued. "Do you have an explanation?"
"Me, Your Honor?" Wright asked.
"Yes. Why wasn't the locker locked?"
"Me, Your Honor?" he asked again, this time in a cold sweat. He thought for a moment, then put his right hand behind his head, grinning stupidly. "Yes, well. You see… This isn't exactly my field…" He turned to Ema. "What do you think, Miss 'Scientific Investigator'?"
"Huh?" she chirped. "Oh, um…" She put her pencil eraser against her cheek in thought. "Maybe something, like, jammed the electronic system?"
Wright looked at the video again, the look on his face indicating that he thought something else was wrong.
"Yeah, I thought so too!" Ema said, noticing Wright's reaction. "There's got to be another clue somewhere in this footage!"
The judge banged his gavel.
"Very well," he said. "Let's inspect the video once more. The locker wasn't locked… Mr. Wright. Please point out the cause for this!"
Wright took out the remote control and played the video again. He paused a brief moment after "Goodman" opened the locker. Something was falling out.
"Take that!" Wright yelled, hitting his desk. "Please watch closely. This is the continuation of the part I showed you earlier." He replayed up to that portion.
"What's this?" the judge asked, noticing the object. "Something white fell out of the locker!"
"But sir!" Meekins interrupted, saluting. "It's been my experience that things fall out when doors are opened! I often fall out and roll great distances when I open my car door, sir!"
"Objection!" Wright yelled. "We can't be sure that item was in the locker to begin with."
"What do you mean?" the judge asked.
"The sensor triggers the lock when the door is shut… What if something was inserted, say, between the sensor and the door?"
"In… Inserted…?"
"This white thing wasn't inside the locker… It was stuck between the door and the sensor!"
"Oh, I understand now, sir!" Meekins exclaimed, hitting his mitten of a bandaged hand with his good hand. "It's just like my tie! Two out of three times it gets stuck in the door when I get out of my patrol vehicle, sir! Instead of the door closing, my tie chokes me!"
Aren't officers supposed to wear clip-on ties to avoid that kind of problem!?
"But the object would have to be extremely thin to fit in the door," the judge said.
"Not only that," Miles added, "it would also have to block electrical currents… It would need to be an insulator."
"Yes, and insulator! But at the crime scene…"
"there just might have been something that fits the description," Wright finished.
"But s-sir!" Meekins cried. "By 'insulator,' you don't mean…" He trailed off.
"Very well!" the judge said with a whack of his gavel. "Will the defense please present the relevant evidence! What was this insulator that was stuck in the locker door?"
"Take that!" Wright said, holding a rubber glove. "I found this near the locker: a thin rubber glove."
"But we can't be sure that was in the victim's locker."
"It has a tag that says, 'SL-9 Incident.'"
SL-9 AGAIN!?
"The video seems to depict the victim opening the locker," Wright continued, "but that isn't the case! The lit lamp attests to this." He pounded on his desk. "On the day of the crime, even I could have opened that locker! Is this not so, Officer Meekins!?"
"Sir…" he said. "It would appear so, sir!" He choked on his ID strap again. The gallery started up, silenced by the judge's gavel.
"Order!" he shouted three times. "So are we to believe then, that the 'victim' whom this witness stabbed in the evidence room… was not Detective Goodman?"
"Objection!" Miles yelled. "Do not be misled, Your Honor."
"What do you mean, Mr. Edgeworth?"
"The defense has merely demonstrated that possibility, and nothing more. The 'victim' in the video was indeed Bruce Goodman. The prosecution will offer one more testimony to prove this!"
"What!?" Wright snapped.
"Officer Meekins, please testify about this."
"Sir!" he barked, saluting. "M-me, sir!? I'm not sure what you're referring to, sir…"
The other bit of proof that Goodman was in the evidence room, stupid.
"O-oh!" Meekins shouted, remembering. "You mean that, sir! Of course, sir!"
The judge banged his gavel.
"Very well, begin your testimony!" he ordered.
"There's one other thing that proves the man was Detective Goodman, sir!" Meekins explained, saluting. "To enter the evidence room, one must use their ID card! When an ID card is used, there's a record of it!" He hit his bandaged hand with his good hand. "At the time of the crime, the detective had used his card!"
"An ID card record. I see…"
"I have the ID card record right here, Your Honor," Miles stated, holding a copy. "The ID used at 5:14… is that of the victim."
"Just before the crime, hmm? Yes, without a doubt this is the victim's ID! However, one thing does strike me as unusual… Several hundred cases should have been due for transferal. Why were there so few people using this room?"
"This particular evidence room is only used for storing certain special cases."
"'Special' cases…?" Wright asked.
"Extremely violent cases involving police staff."
"Just hearing that makes my hair stand on end!" Ema commented.
Naturally, SL-9 had to be one of those cases…
"There were only a few cases up for transferal there," Miles continued, "and most were cleared up by noon."
"Right…" the judge said. "I see. Now, let us move on to the cross-examination."
Wright hit his desk. "Wait one moment, Officer Meekins," he said.
"I-I'm not good at waiting, sir!" Meekins replied.
"I have the victim's ID card right here. I found it at the crime scene."
"That makes sense," the judge said. Wright shook his head.
"When I say, 'crime scene,' I'm not referring to the evidence room at the Police Department. I mean the 'other' crime scene… The underground parking lot at the Prosecutor's Office!"
And it appears Lana will be going to prison after all.
"Your Honor…" Wright said. "I have one more piece of evidence to present." He held up a Lost Item Report. "It's a very important clue regarding the victim's ID card."
"A… Lost Item Report?" the judge asked. "It's only half completed,"
"but it shows that detective Goodman had lost 'something' on the day of the crime. Something important enough to fill out this report."
"Let me guess," Miles said. "You believe this 'something' to be his ID card, right?"
"I can't say for sure… but there is a high probability! On the day of the crime, Detective Goodman was not carrying his card!"
The gallery started murmuring, cut off by a whack of the judge's gavel.
"Order! Order!" he demanded. "So now… what does this all mean?"
"It can only mean one thing," Wright explained. "It doesn't require much thought! The man Officer Meekins encountered in the evidence room… was not Detective Goodman, but rather the man who stole his ID card!"
The gallery started up again, silenced by the judge's gavel.
"Order! Order! Order!" the judge yelled. "Does the prosecution have a response?"
Miles waited until everyone was quiet, his arms patiently crossed.
"I have only one thing to say to the defense," he said. "Bravo, Mr. Wright."
"B-bravo…?" Wright stammered.
"Allow me to summarize the defense's argument. At 5:15 PM on the day of the crime, the man Officer Meekins encountered in the evidence room was not Detective Goodman. There are two grounds to support this. First, the locker in the evidence room was already unlocked. Second, the victim lost his ID card. Am I correct so far, Mr. Wright?"
"Yes…" Wright said, the look on his face making it apparent that he was confused.
"That being the case, we must inevitably arrive at a single conclusion: If the 'victim' in this video is a fake… then the murder in the evidence room is also fake! In other words, the security camera does not show the instant of the murder."
"Uh… Th-that is…" Wright put his hand behind his head. "Well, I guess that's right…"
"Is something wrong, Mr. Wright? Only moments ago you seemed content to be pointing your finger around."
"This isn't good…" Wright muttered. Miles did his "evil smile."
"Well, well… It seems you've finally realized exactly what you've gone to such lengths to prove!"
"Explain yourself, Mr. Edgeworth!" the judge requested.
"The defense has already done the explaining for me," Miles said. "The victim in this video is a fake… which means a murder did not take place at the Police Department at 5:15 on the day of the crime."
"So…"
Miles struck his desk. "So the real crime could only take place at one location: the underground parking lot at the Prosecutor's Office! The murderer being Ms. Lana Skye, the defendant! The evidence is compelling! A trustworthy witness observed the moment the defendant used the murder weapon!"
"Aaaah!" Wright screamed, sweat pouring down his face.
The gallery started up. The judge banged his gavel.
"The activity in the evidence room still leaves many questions unanswered:" he said. "Who exactly was the 'victim' Officer Meekins encountered? And where did this person disappear to…? However… This trial's purpose is to examine only the murder of Detective Goodman."
Miles took a bow. "Just so, Your Honor," he agreed.
"Mr. Wright!" Ema cried. "You have to do something, or else Lana…" She trailed off. Miles couldn't tell from the distance, but he thought he saw tears in Ema's eyes.
"Objection!" Wright yelled, banging on his desk. "One moment, Your Honor!"
"What now, Mr. Wright?" Miles asked. "Don't tell me you're objecting to what you've just proven."
"Of course not. But I almost walked right into the prosecution's trap!"
"What are you talking about?"
As far as I can tell, you did walk—quite clumsily, I may add—into my trap.
"This cross-examination has proven one thing and one thing only," Wright said. "The security video did not show the actual murder." He hit his desk. "However! It cannot be said that it is unrelated to the murder in the parking lot. Specifically, large amounts of blood traces were found in the evidence room! The defense demands further examination into the truth of the matter!"
"Mr. Edgeworth," the judge said after a pause.
"Yes, Your Honor?" Miles asked.
"If this court were to examine this further, other witnesses will be necessary. Is the prosecution prepared?"
"I'm sorry, Your Honor… The prosecution considered the incident at the Police Department to be unrelated. We have not prepared any other witnesses for this incident."
Wright looked as though he had an idea.
"Mr. Wright…" Ema said, catching on. "Do you mean…"
"Your Honor," Wright called. "The defense would like to request a specific witness."
"Oh?" the judge asked. "Whom do you have in mind?"
"Someone we have reason to believe knows the truth… The truth behind the activities that took place in the evidence room."
"The prosecution requests to hear this person's name before deciding whether or not to comply," Miles said.
The judge banged his gavel. "Very well then, Mr. Wright!" he said. "This person whom you would have testify… What is his or her name?"
"Officer… Jake Marshall," Wright said.
"Why him?" Miles asked.
"He's in charge of the evidence room. I feel we should hear what he has to say."
"The prosecution agrees to the defense's request. Since he was responsible for guarding the room, we should hear his testimony. Fortunately he works in the Police Department." Assuming he's at his post for a change. "We shouldn't need longer than 20 minutes to prepare."
The judge banged his gavel and nodded. "Very well," he said. "The court will take a 30 minute recess while the witness is subpoenaed. Will the prosecution please prepare the witness during this time?"
"We will, Your Honor."
"Court in recess!"
Miles waited by the doors to the Defendant Lobby. He had heard Gumshoe's voice coming from in there. There was some trick up the defense's sleeve, and he wanted in on it.
"No, Lana!" Ema's voice cried from inside the lobby. "That's over with! No!!" Suddenly, Ema burst out through the doors and ran out crying. Miles almost lost his balance from the shock.
"Uh, ya know what?" Miles heard Gumshoe say to Wright. "I just remembered… I gotta be somewhere. Sorry pal, but I'm outta here!"
Gumshoe ran out a moment later and turned to leave. Miles extended his leg and tripped the good detective, who apparently had not noticed him.
"Oof!" Gumshoe puffed as he landed.
"Wherever you're going, it can wait," Miles said as Gumshoe got up. "What were you doing with Wright?"
"He just asked for the SL-9 files, sir."
That would explain Ema's outburst…
"And you gave him the files?" Miles asked.
"D-did I do something wrong?"
"Could I see the request?"
Gumshoe handed Miles a piece of paper. The handwriting was unmistakable. Miles chuckled.
"Our lovely defendant should try reading Wright's handwriting before trying to imitate it," Miles said, "let alone trying to imitate his way of speaking."
Gumshoe whimpered.
"Don't keep this kind of thing from me, Gumshoe," Miles said calmly. "If there's any case I need no doubts about, it's this one."
"S-sorry, sir…"
"Keep anything else from me and you can expect to do your grocery shopping at a homeless shelter."
"Yes, sir."
"You may go."
Gumshoe walked off, dragging his feet.
So you think this case is connected to SL-9? I should have figured as much. The knife, the glove, the victim, and then these files… But we can deal with the connection after we find out who the killer in this case is.
The judge banged his gavel to bring court back into session.
"The court will now reconvene for the trial of Ms. Lana Skye," he said.
"Allow me to call the next witness to the stand:" Miles said, "the officer in charge of guarding the evidence room on the day of the crime."
Marshall took the stand, drinking something out of a small canteen.
"Witness, please state your name and occupation," Miles requested.
"Me, pardner?" Marshall asked. "Oh, I'm just a man, same as you, wanderin' the trails of civilization,"
"occasionally helping the elderly cross intersections when needed," Miles finished.
"Oh, I know!" the judge exclaimed. "You're a 'patrolman'!"
"As for my name, if you listen hard 'nuff, you can hear the howling wind calling it out."
"To be exact, it's Jake Marshall," Miles said. Clint Eastwood's biggest fan. "…Your Honor." Wright was already sweating. "Now, Mr. Marshall. Let me ask you something. You were in charge of guarding the evidence room on the day the crime took place. Is this correct?"
"According to the papers, pardner."
Get rid of that accent, Marshall. You and I both know it's fake.
"What do you mean?" the judge asked Marshall.
"A desperado's soul is as boundless as the desert sands. No 'paper' can sum it up."
But a paper can certainly sum up your salary.
The judge banged his gavel.
"Maybe it's best we get on with this quickly," he said. Please share with us your testimony of the day of the crime… in English!"
Trust me, Your Honor, you wouldn't want to hear him faking Spanish.
"My job was to keep a wary eye on that bone orchard," Marshall testified. "They said I was supposed to make rounds three times a day, but that ain't my style. Besides, the room's protected by two security systems, anyway. If I remember right, I was at a street-side saloon at the time it went down. I'm just an innocent travelin' man, so if you're out of ammo it's time I hit the trail."
Innocent traveling men don't betray a lady's trust, Mr. Eastwood.
"I can't say I particularly care for your attitude…" the judge remarked.
"I can't say I care for your beard," Marshall shot back, "but you don't see me complainin'."
"Wait a minute…" Wright said. "What do you mean by 'two security systems'?"
"I mean the security cameras and the ID card reader. I reckon even a cowpoke like you knows about those."
"Yes, well, what about the fingerprint activated locks inside the evidence room?"
"Fingerprint activated locks? What kind of new-fangled doohickeys are those?"
Wright hunched over in an exasperated sweat.
"He's not that good with machines…" Miles commented, "or with following orders."
"Everyone's got their weaknesses, now don't they, Mr. Prosecutor?"
Some more prominent than others, Mr. Layabout.
"This one seems like trouble," the judge said, shaking his head. "Okay Mr. Wright, he's all yours."
"Officer Marshall," Wright said. "Doesn't it strike you as odd? That is, you being called in to testify like this?"
Marshall was silent.
"After all, you weren't in the security room at the time of the crime," Wright continued.
"And yet you dragged me down here," Marshall replied. "Explain yourself, pardner."
"It's quite simple. You left a very large trail behind at the scene. Or, to be exact… a handprint."
"Hmph! Listen real good, pardner. Like I said, I'm the caretaker of that crypt. I pay my respects… that is, make my rounds, about once a month. It's only natural my fingerprints would be in there."
"Objection!" Wright shouted. "I only wish it were, Officer," He paused to hit his desk. "but you see… your fingerprints were covered in blood!"
The gallery started up, silenced by the judge's gavel.
"Witness!" the judge cried. "What's the meaning of this!? Your bloodstained fingerprints were at the crime scene…!?"
"The blood was wiped away, however!" Wright said. "A luminol test clearly revealed this! Well, Officer Marshall?"
"…It seems to me…" he started, "there ain't a person in this room with a head on his shoulders."
"I take it you have an explanation then, Officer Marshall?" Miles asked. He pointed at the witness. "About the 'bloodstained' fingerprints?"
The judge whacked his gavel.
"Very well," he said, "you may begin your testimony about your fingerprints, found at the scene of the crime!"
"Like I said, it's only natural for my fingerprints to be in that evidence room," Marshall explained. "One of them just happened to be at the same place as the bloodstained handprint. The murderer touched the locker where my fingerprint was by chance. The bloodstain and the fingerprint are completely unrelated. Or didn't you know the murderer was wearing gloves? See? I had nothing to do with it."
"Hmm… The witness's explanation appears valid, although there's room for doubt."
"Life wouldn't be fun without any doubt, pardner."
Although court proceedings would be a lot more efficient.
"The defense may now cross-examine the witness," the judge said.
"Like I said, it's only natural for my fingerprints to be in that evidence room," Marhsall repeated.
"Hold it!" Wright said. "That's because you… how did you put it… 'pay your respects,' once a month?"
"Yeah, that's right. That, and one more thing… That locker happens to be mine."
"What!?" the judge asked. "What do you mean?"
"I mean what I said. That's the locker I used when I was a detective… the locker I still use. All that's in there now is a heap of broken dreams."
"I see…" Wright said.
"It'd be strange if my prints WEREN'T all over that locker. One of them just happened to be at the same place as the bloodstained handprint."
"So then… What about the bloody handprint?"
"Wasn't mine. It's no mystery."
"Please explain," the judge requested.
"My locker is covered with my fingerprints. It just so happened… The murderer touched the locker where my fingerprint was by chance."
Wright banged on his desk. "The chances of that happening are a million to one!" he shouted.
"On the contrary, one could argue just the opposite. The chances of that not happening are a million to one! Get one thing straight, pardner. You ain't gonna get no reward for me with a mere fingerprint. You wanna know why? The bloodstain and the fingerprint are completely unrelated."
"Unrelated?"
"They're as different as night and day. Kinda like 'cereal' an' 'serial.' One's got to do with breakfast while the other's a type of murder."
"He's right…" the judge said, "although seemingly alike, they're totally different."
"Or didn't you know the murderer was wearing gloves?"
"Hold it!" Wright shouted. "How do you know that!?"
"I may be a loner, but I still do my job. I keep up on the reports."
"There was a bloodstain at the scene, thought to be left by the murderer," Miles stated.
"That's right, it was found on Detective Gumshoe's locker," Wright recalled.
"However, no fingerprints were detected on that handprint."
"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "So that would mean… the murderer, wearing gloves, happened to place his hand on top of Officer Marshall's fingerprint."
"That's the only logical conclusion," Marshall said. "Are you starting to get the picture, pardner?"
"The picture…?" Wright stammered.
"This seal of blood… in the desert, it's just food for the buzzards. There's only one reality, and that's this." Marshall motioned to the television. "So long as my trail isn't in there… you can't say otherwise."
The judge banged his gavel. "This isn't getting us anywhere, Mr. Wright," he said. "Please consider carefully where you're going with this cross-examination."
"Y-yes, Your Honor," Wright said.
"Now then, continue your testimony, Officer Marshall."
"Too bad it wasn't me in that video, right, pardner?" Marshall taunted.
"What do you mean by that?" Wright demanded.
"You want to tie me to this crime, isn't that right, pardner? If so, that video is the only direct evidence you have."
"Objection! But that video is useless! It's full of blind spots!"
"Blind spots?" the judge asked.
"Places you can't see! The camera's panning back and forth, the floor isn't shown… If someone was familiar with the camera's position, he could leave the room without being caught on tape!"
"Objection!" Miles shouted, hitting his desk. "We don't have time for your speculations, Mr. Wright."
"Well, Mr. Wright," the judge said. "If you can show us evidence in this video that indicates Officer Marshall was present, please do so now."
"Very well," Wright said with a nod. "Allow me to point out your mistake, Officer Marshall!"
"Tread carefully, Mr. Wright," Miles warned, "or you might wind up being the one making the mistake."
The judge banged his gavel. "Now then," he said, "let's have another look at the video. Show us this incriminating evidence of the witness… Officer Jake Marshall!"
Wright fast-forwarded past the "fight" and paused when the camera was looking toward the door. He pointed to a piece of cloth sticking out of Marshall's locker, then hit his desk.
"Bringing our attention back to the security camera…" he started, "is a mistake I'm afraid you'll soon not forget, Officer Marshall."
"The days are short in Texas… and so are our tempers," Marshall said. "Could you sum up what you have to say in eight words or less?"
"Very well," Wright said with a nod. He banged on his desk, then pointed at Marshall. "You can clearly be seen in this video!"
"Exactly eight words… Not bad, pardner."
"The key… lies in a certain locker shown in the video."
"See this locker that has a white cloth sticking out?" the judge asked. "This is the witness's locker."
"Now then, let's rewind the video a bit."
The video rewound until it was looking at Marshall's locker again. The cloth wasn't there.
"Oh!" the judge exclaimed. "The white cloth… it's gone! What's the meaning of this, Officer Marshall!?"
"When the crime took place," Wright explained, "the white cloth wasn't there. Then… it suddenly appeared! There's only one explanation:" He slammed his desk. "Officer Marshall! You were in the evidence room at the time of the crime! What's more, you opened your locker when the camera was turned away!"
The gallery started up. The judge banged his gavel once.
"Order! Order!" the judge yelled. "It would seem that's the only—"
"Hold your horses!" Marshall interrupted. "Sorry, pardner… but you got the wrong man. So what if my locker was opened? That doesn't mean I'm the one who opened it!"
Yes it does, you twit.
"The murderer needed to hide something," Marshall continued, "so he opened a locker and stuck it in. It's not my fault he happened to choose mine!"
The court was silent.
"Why's everyone staring at me like I'm a wanted man?" Marshall demanded when he noticed.
"Uh, I hate to rain on your parade," Wright said, "but you're the only person who can open that particular locker."
"Oh yeah? I call your bluff. You say I opened that locker… Now prove it!"
"Take that!" Wright yelled as he tossed a file to Marshall. Marshall looked at it.
"A… 'fingerprint' sensor?"
Wright nodded. "We talked about this earlier today. The lockers can only be opened by the detectives they belong to."
"W-what kinda crazy talk is this!?"
Wright pounded on his desk. "So, sheriff! What do you have to say… in eight words or less?"
"I only got one word for you, pardner. NOOOOO!!"
The gallery began yammering until the judge banged his gavel.
"Order! Order! Order!" he shouted. "Witness! Explain yourself!"
"If this is a joke, it's the worst I've ever heard…"
"I assure you this is no joke, Officer Marshall," Wright replied. "Now then, please tell us what you were doing in the evidence room at the time of the crime!"
Marshall said nothing and simply tried to break a strip of jerky he had brought along.
"Olé!" the judge barked. "Please answer the question!"
Leave the Spanish to the people who speak it, Your Honor.
"That's alright, Officer Marshall," Wright taunted. "I believe we can figure the rest out from here."
"We can?" the judge asked.
"Have a look at these floor plans," Wright said, handing a copy to the bailiff to give it to the judge. "There is no place for someone to hide in the evidence room. Yet, Officer Meekins didn't see Officer Marshall."
"If that's so, then… where was the witness?"
"It seems Mr. Wright has an answer," Miles said.
The judge banged his gavel.
"Well then?" he requested. "Let's hear it. Where was Officer Marshall at the time of the crime?"
Wright hit his desk. "Officer Marshall was standing right here!" he yelled, indicating the victim's location.
"There? But that's… That's where the victim, Detective Goodman, was!"
Wright shook his head. "Correct… unless the man wasn't Detective Goodman." He struck his desk. "I believe the 'victim' in the video is… Officer Marshall! It was you, dressed up like Detective Goodman!"
"Objection!" Miles shouted, hitting his desk. "But that's preposterous! Officer Meekins witnessed the detective at the crime scene! Onde he saw the man's face, he'd know for sure!"
"Objection!" Wright countered. "May I point out though, that Officer Meekins did not know Detective Goodman. He also testified about the man's reaction when confronted. Something about the Officer's story puzzled me. If the man had his ID card, why didn't he just show it?"
"Yes, he would have needed it to enter the evidence room, so he must have been carrying it," the judge agreed.
"The answer is simple. He couldn't show it."
What? Why not?
"As you can see," Wright continued, "Detective Goodman's picture is on his ID card."
"Oh, I get it," the judge said.
"If he showed that, his cover would have been blown! Officer Meekins would have realized the man wasn't Detective Goodman. Do you have anything to say to this, Officer Marshall?"
"You've got quite an imagination, pardner," Marshall said after a moment. "We got a term for that. It's called 'circumstantial evidence.'"
"Circumstantial evidence…?"
"You're gonna have to do better than that to break a detective. Unless you have hard evidence proving I dressed up as the victim…"
"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "I can't say I care for your uncooperative disposition…"
"I can't say I care for your beard, but you don't see me complainin'."
This sounds too familiar…
"Well, Mr. Wright?" the judge asked. "Do you have any evidence? Any evidence proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that Officer Marshall dressed up as the victim?"
"Well…" Wright started, but not finishing. He hunched over and started sweating.
Ludicrous. You point out problems I couldn't find, and then you trip on the last blow?
"I can see the fear in your eyes, pardner," Marshall gloated. "Seems like you're the one who couldn't take the desert heat!"
"Ack!"
"Hmph," Miles laughed. "It looks like your lack of experience has finally been exposed. I'll pass onto you what someone told me when I was just starting out. When you're run into a wall with no place to go, return to the basics."
"The basics…" Wright echoed.
"Why do you think this locker was opened in the first place?" Miles asked.
"What do you mean?" the judge replied.
"There's no reason for Officer Marshall to open his locker at the time of the crime. Yet he did, despite the chance it might be discovered later as it has been."
"According to the defense's argument, Officer Jake Marshall dressed up as Detective Goodman at the time of the crime. Then, after the crime was 'committed,' he opened his own locker for some unknown reason."
"The fact that a white 'cloth' is sticking out of the locker seems to indicate that he opened it in order to put the cloth inside," Miles said.
"So… just what exactly is this piece of cloth?"
"Perhaps…" Wright said. "Perhaps the video is the key to all our unanswered questions."
The judge whacked his gavel.
"Very well," he said. "Let's take yet another look at the security tape. After committing the crime, the witness opened the locker to put away the white cloth. Please show us why the witness had to open his locker!"
Wright paused the video at the moment Meekins and "Goodman" were fighting. He pointed at the blood on "Goodman's" coat. He then hit his desk.
"For some reason," he began, "you disguised yourself as Detective Goodman, and entered the evidence room. I don't know what that reason was… yet."
"'Yet'?" Marshall repeated.
"However, something unexpected happened. Officer Meekins barged in on you. When asked to show your ID card, you pulled a knife on him. However! Officer Meekins panicked, and the white coat you were wearing was soiled with blood!"
"A bloody white coat…" the judge commented.
"You couldn't just walk out like that, so you hid the coat in your locker."
"Not bad, huh 'pardner'?" Marshall asked. The gallery started up, but quieted down before the judge needed to use his gavel.
"Now then, Officer Marshall," the judge said. "Are you ready to tell us the truth?"
"Looks like I underestimated y'all. I hope you're happy now, Mr. Edgeworth."
Happy about what?
"Two years ago…" Marshall continued, "if you were only half as persistent then as you are today, we all wouldn't have to be here, now would we?"
What are you blathering about!?
"Officer Marshall!" Wright barked, hitting his desk. "Tell the court what you did… all of it."
"Alright. It seems the time has come."
I have a bad feeling about this…
"I had to do it that day," Marshall said. "I couldn't just stand by and let it die. I stole the detective's ID and dressed like him. I planned to take out the evidence. I wasn't expecting Officer Meekins. I knocked him out and managed to escape. I knew which areas wouldn't be caught on the camera. There wasn't any murder in the evidence room at 5:15."
"So the supposed 'victim' was really you…" the judge said.
"But there's one thing I still don't understand," Miles said. "Large quantities of blood traces were found on the floor of the evidence room. If no one was murdered, then how could that be?"
"Officer Meekins managed to cut his own hand," Marshall answered. "My guess is he's the donor."
Either Meekins suffers from hemophilia, or there's something else to that blood trace.
"When you say 'it,'" Wright pressed, "you mean…"
"Do you even have to ask, pardner?" Marshall replied.
SL-9, naturally. Why can't I get away from that cursed case?
"Two years have passed since that case was closed," Miles said. "It was going to completely end with the transferal that day."
"Not if I have anything to do with it. That incident's not over!"
"But what did you hope to accomplish by sneaking into the evidence room?" Wright asked.
"When a case is closed, only the detective who was in charge of it can look through the evidence. I wanted to have a look at it myself one more time… no matter what the cost. I don't care what anyone says, pardner. That case is mine."
I'd hardly call it yours, Marshall.
"That day was my last chance," Marshall continued. "That's why I… I stole the detective's ID and dressed like him. I planned to take out the evidence."
"Hold it!" Wright interrupted. "Why did you disguise yourself as Detective Goodman?"
"If I didn't make it look like Goodman was carrying out the evidence transferal, I'd be arrested for stealing evidence, which wouldn't get me anywhere."
"So you did it to fool the security camera," Miles said.
"And the detective's ID card?" the judge asked.
"I stole that the morning of the incident," Marshall replied. "I returned his ID card. I left it on the floor in the Prosecutor's Office parking lot."
"So essentially, you managed to succeed despite your lack of foresight."
"What do you mean… pardner?"
"I mean the fingerprint-activated lock, of course. No matter how well you disguise yourself, you can't change your fingerprints. Normally, that locker shouldn't have opened."
"I wasn't expecting Officer Meekins. I knocked him out—"
"Hold it!" Wright yelled. "You pulled a knife on Officer Meekins and tried to drive him off?"
"Let's just say I was a little surprised. I only planned on being in the evidence room for no more than five minutes. I didn't think anyone would actually come in during that short time.
"Officer Meekins…" the judge commented, "certainly is a one-in-a-million type of person. "Mistaking a detective for an intruder and demanding to be shown his ID…"
"I'll have to think a little more about his raise this year…" Miles said.
"Anyway," Marshall cut in, "he threw himself at me, and I ended up cutting him slightly."
If you think Meekins is the one behind all that blood, I'd say you cut him more than just "slightly."
"I'm sorry it had to turn out that way," Marshall continued, "with me knocking him out and everything."
"By the way, what happened to your knife?" Wright asked.
"Oh, you mean this one?" Marshall replied, shaving off a bit of his stubble with a knife.
"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "So, what happened next?"
"I managed to escape. I knew which areas wouldn't be caught on the camera."
"So you did your research beforehand," Wright said.
"Those who go into the desert unprepared don't live long, pardner. I didn't think it would make a difference, though. The security tape is erased every six hours. If all had gone as planned, no footage would have been left."
"However," Miles said, "you bloodied your coat in your struggle with Officer Meekins."
"If someone was in the security room when I came out, the jig would have been up. I opened my locker and stashed it in there."
"What was Officer Meekins doing during that time?" Wright asked.
"What else? He was sleeping like a baby."
"So what you're saying is," the judge started, "on that day…"
"There wasn't any murder in the evidence room at 5:15," Marshall finished.
"Hold it!" Wright shouted, hitting his desk. "But the blood found at the scene certainly indicates a crime took place!"
"What are you, blind? The 'victim' shown on that tape is me, and I'm not dead yet, pardner."
"So, you stole the evidence from the locker?" Miles asked, hoping to find a new issue with the case.
"Actually… no, I didn't."
"Why not?"
"When I opened the locker, the evidence was already gone."
"What!?" the judge cried. "Mr. Edgeworth. Where is that evidence?"
"It's still missing, Your Honor," Miles replied. And I'll probably get blamed for it if I know the Bar Association.
The gallery started up.
Wright slammed his desk.
"Officer Marshall," he said. "May I ask you one thing?"
"Fire away, pardner," Marshall answered. "It's a free country. Just remember, I'm also free to decide whether or not to answer."
"Why did you do this? Stealing a detective's ID, injuring a police officer… This is no small offense!"
"Moreover," Miles added, "you're an officer yourself. This will have serious consequences. It can't just be forgiven with a simple cut in salary."
Marshall was silent for a moment, then he spoke. "Like I said. This isn't your case. This one is mine. And I'll do anything it takes to get an answer I'm satisfied with."
"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "The witness has an unusual amount of zeal. Let's hear more."
"I can't just forget the SL-9 Incident… You know why?"
"Officer Marshall," Wright said. "I think I understand. I think I know why you care so much about the SL-9 Incident."
"Sounds like you've been sipping too much cactus juice, pardner."
"I have the SL-9 Incident file here," Wright said, holding one form from it. "The name 'Marshall' is mentioned in here… in a list of murder victims. 'Neil Marshall'… Are you related to this man?"
"Neil Marshall…?" Miles asked.
"Yeah, I'm sure you heard the name," Marshall spat. "Two years ago… he received the same lousy prosecutor award you got."
"What!?" the judge barked. "A prosecutor…?"
"Now I remember…" Miles said. "Prosecutor Neil Marshall. He handled the SL-9 case before I did."
"That's right," Marshall confirmed. "He was killed… and the case fell into your hands."
"But what's his relation to you…?" the judge asked.
"He was my brother. He was investigating the murders with Damon Gant, Chief Detective at the time. The group of detectives I was part of worked under them. We were desperate to prosecute the killer. Joe Darke… My brother fought Darke and was killed. That was the first time Darke left behind any evidence. That was all we needed. He was arraigned and incarcerated. The case was finally closed… at least, according to the public records."
"What do you mean?"
"My brother couldn't have been killed by Joe Darke. I knew my brother better than anyone… No one could have beaten him in a fight."
"And that's it?" Miles scoffed. "That's your reason for your insane actions?"
And I'm pretty sure your brother's not nearly as tough as you'd like to think.
"There's more to my brother's death than what the records say. No matter how much you try to hide it, you can't fool me."
Let me guess: you're going to say I forged evidence in that case.
The judge banged his gavel.
"Well…" he started, "at least one thing's for certain. Now we know what happened at the Police Department on the day of the crime."
"That was the last day the SL-9 case could be reopened," Miles stated. "Not satisfied with its resolution, Officer Marshall planned to steal the evidence."
"Disguising himself as Detective Goodman," Wright added, "he entered the evidence room. Officer Meekins confronted him, so he rendered him unconscious and fled."
"Yes, this mystery has finally been cleared up. No murder took place at the Police Department that day!" Meaning Lana really did do it… "The things that happen by chance never cease to amaze… At exactly the same time as the murder at the Prosecutor's Office… this fake murder was going on at the Police Department."
The judge banged his gavel. "So if no one was murdered at the Police Department on the day of the crime," he said, "that means the murder in the Prosecutor's Office's parking lot was the real one."
"Which, in turn, means…" I can barely say it… "only one person could have committed the crime: Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye."
"Objection!" Wright shouted. "B-but wait! A verdict wasn't reached in yesterday's trial!"
Objection!" Miles countered, striking his desk. "Which is why we examined the incident at the Police Department today."
"But…!"
"There's only one reason the defendant was not convicted yesterday: there yet remained the mystery of the simultaneous murder at the Police Department."
"It seems to me… this boy's got the draw on you, pardner," Marshall added.
"All the mysteries at the Police Department have been uncovered. No contradictions…" he paused to hit his desk, "remain. The murder took place at the Prosecutor's Office! The only suspect is Lana Skye. There were no errors in the testimony of the witness, Angel Starr! If you have a response… make it one word or less."
"ARRRGHHHH!!" Wright screamed.
"I rest my case," Miles said, taking a bow.
The gallery started murmuring, silenced by the judge's gavel.
"It seems this trial has reached its conclusion," he said. "There's no room for doubt."
"Well done, Mr. Wright," Miles commented. "Thanks to you, I didn't need to waste any time disproving the alleged 'murder' at the Police Department."
The judge banged his gavel. "Now then, the time for the verdict has arrived."
I guess it really was Lana… It's just so hard to believe…
"This court finds the defendant…"
"Hold it!" a voice shouted. A moment later, Ema ran into the courtroom. "Y-your Honor! Wait!"
"Ema!" Wright yelped.
"The defense has an objection. A scientific objection! Right?"
"What do you mean, 'right?'"
"Mr. Wright," the judge called. "Are you this girl's guardian?"
Hah. The day Wright watches over a teenage girl is the day he gets disbarred for forging evidence.
"Your Honor!" Wright replied. "Oh, uh… in a sense…"
"Please, Your Honor," Ema begged. "All I'm asking is for a minute of your time! Please hear me out! Mr. Edgeworth, please…"
Her love for her sister is truly touching… "I don't want to leave any loose ends," Miles said after a moment. If only because this is one case I need to be absolutely sure of… "You want a minute? I'll give you three."
"I… I was kind of in shock," Ema said, averting her eyes from anyone who looked at her. "I mean, finding out the SL-9 Incident referred to the Joe Darke Killings! But that's when I figured it out. I mean, what Officer Marshall was trying to do that day… So I knew his fingerprint had nothing to do with the crime. That left only one thing… the other handprint!"
"You mean the traces of blood found on Detective Gumshoe's locker…"
"But no fingerprints were found on it, right?" the judge asked.
"No," Ema admitted, "but I figured if I examined it scientifically… I'd be sure to find a clue! So I ran over there and looked at it again!"
That print… What if it is related to the crime? But… If it was, Marshall's fingerprints would have been on it. Oh, Ema… Why must you prolong our agony?
"So, did you find something?" Wright asked.
"Um… No!"
"Huh?"
"Sorry. I guess I'm not much of a scientific investigator after all."
Poor Ema… She really thinks her sister's innocent… Then again, I'm still having trouble believing Lana would kill someone… even to protect someone else…
"Um…" Wright sighed. "Is that all?"
"Please don't be mad," Ema half-said, half-cried. "I'm just a high school student! But Mr. Wright! Those traces of blood are the only clue we have! If we can't find something wrong with them… Please, Mr. Wright. You're a professional. If anyone can save Lana, it's you!"
"Me? Oh boy…"
No wonder he's sweating. The risk of letting someone like Ema down would make anyone nervous.
The judge banged his gavel. "Time's up," he said. "Now then, Mr. Wright. Wirh regard to the incident at the Police Department… Does any reasonable doubt remain?"
"Um…"
"It appears the defense is troubled by the other blood mark," Miles said. He took out a copy of the evidence room floor plans. "Looking at the floor plans, a handprint was discovered around here. Is there a problem with this?"
"Mr. Wright!" Ema called. "I'm sorry I can't be of more use… But still! If you can't find anything wrong with that blood mark, Lana will be…"
For both our sakes, Wright, please find something wrong that makes sense…
"Please answer my question, Mr. Wright," the judge ordered. "We don't have all day."
"Y-yes, Your Honor," Wright stammered. He stopped to think, looking at the floor plans. "Objection!" He banged on his desk. "This handprint left at the crime scene… clearly shows a contradiction!"
That pause… I should have figured he had nothing.
"The only thing that seems clear is you're grasping, Mr. Wright," Miles taunted.
Maybe that'll help. He does tend to fare better after I taunt him, after all.
"You've been staring pretty intently at those floor plans," the judge noted. "Tell me… is there a problem with them?"
Wright continued thinking. He then seemed confident.
Finally…
"Take a good look at these floor plans," he said. "Something is missing."
"'Missing'…?" Miles asked. "You mean, something hasn't been drawn on there?"
"Yes. Something that, when drawn, will completely change the meaning of the blood mark!"
The judge banged his gavel and shook his head. "Let us pray the defense isn't simply trying to buy time. Very well, Mr. Wright! The question is… which item can prove something is missing in the floor plans?"
"Take that!" Wright shouted, holding a picture of the Blue Badger.
"What about that piece of plywood?" Marshall scoffed.
"The Blue Badger! Mascot of the police force! Defender of truth, guardian of proof!"
"Explain yourself, Mr. Wright," Miles demanded.
"Please look at the floor plans of the crime scene. The Blue Badger is not here."
"So?" Marshall asked.
"So watch what happens when we put him in." Wright took out his pen and marked the Blue Badger's location. "This is where he was dancing at the time of the crime." He held up the map so everyone could see. "Well…?"
"Well… what?" the judge asked.
Wait… That spot… Miles jerked back with a loud gasp.
"That's right," Wright said. "So long as the Blue Badger is dancing here, it would be impossible… to place a handprint at this spot on the locker!"
"Whaaaaat!?" Marshall screamed, summing up the gallery's murmurs quite well.
The judge banged his gavel three times. "So that means…" he trailed off. "Uh… just exactly what does that mean!?"
"It means it can't be done!" Wright replied.
"What are you saying? Blood traces were undeniably found on that locker!"
"Don't look at me, I didn't put it there!"
"Mr. Wright!" Ema called. "Think it through scientifically!"
"Ema!"
"On that afternoon… Officer Meekins was the one who brought the Blue Badger to the evidence room, right? After he put it down, it would be impossible to leave a handprint on that locker."
"So that must mean this blood mark… was left there before the Blue Badger was brought in…?"
"Just one moment!" the judge barked. "I will not allow such farfetched balderdash in my courtroom!"
"It may sound farfetched, Your Honor… but it's the only possible explanation! On February 21st… in the Police Department's evidence room…" He pounded on his desk. "blood was spilled not once, but twice!"
"B-but how…!" Miles almost screamed, doubling over his desk.
"One time was captured on this tape, taken by the security camera. Officer Meekins cut his hand, from which a trivial amount of blood fell. The problem is… the 'other' time. Someone bled prior to the struggle shown on this tape." He banged on his desk. "It had to have been… Detective Goodman, when he was really murdered!"
"Objection!" Miles shouted, striking his desk. "That's ridiculous! I refute you!"
"Objection! The murder portrayed in the security tape has been proven to be a fake. However! That does not explain the blood mark found on the locker!"
"Objection! So then… assuming this 'murder' you purport really happened, when did it take place!? I demand you show evidence that proves it occurred!"
"To surmise," the judge said, "the defense claims that… prior to Officer Meekins being cut by Jake Marshall, who was disguised as Detective Goodman, another 'incident' took place in that evidence room."
"The blood mark on the locker proves this," Wright said.
"Very well. Then tell us… When did this 'first' incident occur? Proof must be presented."
The ID Card Record, no doubt.
"Now then," the judge continued. "Will the defense please present its evidence? What shows when the 'first' crime took place?"
"If the crime took place inside the evidence room," Wright said, "then the perpetrator would had to have entered the room. In order to do so, an ID card is required."
I knew it.
"An ID card…" the judge echoed. "Oh! The ID Card Record!"
"Officer Meekins brought the Blue Badger panel into the evidence room at…"
"Let's see here… 4:50 PM. If the crime took place before that time, then it would be… 4:40 PM… Ah! AAAAAAAHHH! M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-Miles Edgeworth! Just what have you done!?"
Are you sure you were once a lawyer, Your Honor?
"I never figured you had nerve, boy," Marshall sneered.
"Put off the act, witness," Miles said. "It doesn't take a lot of thought to figure out it couldn't have been me."
"Hmm… Nope, I ain't gettin' it…"
"Hmm…" the judge mumbled. "I'm afraid I don't understand either."
For starters, I wouldn't frame someone I care so much about.
"It's clear from the luminol test that blood was there," Miles explained. "However, when the 'second' crime took place, both Officer Meekins and Officer Marshall failed to notice the blood."
"That means…" Wright started, "the blood from the first crime was wiped away… by the real murderer.
"I would have had just ten minutes to murder the victim, carry his body away, and clean up the blood… Unfortunately, that's physically impossible."
"That would mean…" the judge said, "the crime must have taken place before Mr. Edgeworth entered the evidence room."
"Let's look at the chart again," Wright said. "There's only one other card number remaining: '7777777'!"
"Talk about a lucky number…" Marshall commented.
"But wait…" the judge said. "That doesn't make sense! How could Detective Goodman have entered the evidence room?"
"Since there's no record of his card being used beforehand…" Wright stated, "he must have entered along with the real murderer." He bit his desk. "That's the only plausible explanation. He went in with '7777777'!"
The judge banged his gavel. "Mr. Edgeworth! Please look into this ASAP! Find out whose ID number is '77777777'!"
"That's one 'seven' too many, Your Honor," Miles said. "Unfortunately… I'm unable to look up the owner of that ID card. At least, at present."
"What!?" Wright barked.
"Explain yourself, son," Marshall demanded.
"The ID number '7777777' belongs to someone with a rank of Captain or higher…" Miles explained. "Someone who is a so-called 'executive officer.' We don't have the authority to inquire into such a person's identity."
"Objection!" Wright yelled, banging on his desk. "But that's ridiculous! Just how—"
"I'm not finished talking, Mr. Wright. There is one situation in which we can be granted such authority."
"If an official charge against an executive is accepted," the judge said.
"An 'official charge'…" Wright said.
"You're all alike, aren't you?" Marshall complained. "With your 'cover-ups' and your 'forgeries'… That's how the Prosecutor's Office operates!"
The gallery started up.
"Objection!" Miles shouted. "I take pride in my work, Officer Marshall. I would appreciate it if you would keep your slander to yourself."
"'Slander,' is it? Okay. Let me ask a question."
"Yes?"
"No, not to you. To her, the defendant sitting over there. Your own little 'executive.'"
"Objection! Don't be stupid. She's been charged with murder. Of course we've looked into her ID number… and it's not '7777777.'"
"Don't play me for a fool, pardner. That's not what I want to ask. All I want to know is one thing… about that incident."
"The SL-9 Incident?" the judge asked.
"Answer me this, Chief Prosecutor!" Marshall demanded. "In that trial two years ago… Did you really only use legitimate evidence!?"
What!? Why are you pushing this!?
Lana waited until it was quiet.
"Do you need the witness to repeat his question, Chief Prosecutor?" Miles asked.
"I heard him fine, Mr. Edgeworth," Lana replied.
"Two years ago… I was in charge of the prosecution for that trial. At the time, we…"
"Occasionally…" Lana interrupted, "we felt the powerlessness of the law. At least… I did."
What!? Lana… You can't be serious…!
"L-Lana…" Ema squeaked.
"I became a prosecutor in order to suppress crime with the law," Lana continued. "But before I realized it, we were the ones being suppressed by the law."
"Defendant!" the judge snapped. "Just what are you saying!?"
"I'll ask you again, Chief Prosecutor," Marshall said. "During that trial two years ago… did you really present all the evidence in court? Can you look me, an investigator in that crime, in the eye and say that you did?"
"Chief Prosecutor! You didn't…"
Lana… Please tell me you haven't been lying to me…
"I don't have to, Officer Marshall," Lana said to Marshall.
No! "Why don't you answer him!?" Miles demanded.
"Drastic crimes require drastic measures… That's just the way it is. We did what we had to… in order for him to get the verdict he deserved." Lana was looking directly at Miles. He could see the sorrow in her eyes.
"But Lana!" Ema cried.
"Even if it involved 'forging' evidence."
No… Lana… you… you…!!
"See?" Marshall said, breaking the courtroom's silence. "That's what I'm talking about."
"No…" Miles almost cried. "NNNOOOOOOO!!"
Miles collapsed onto his desk as the gallery filled the courtroom with jeers. The judge tried in vain to silence the uproar.
"Order!" he roared, repeatedly banging his gavel. "Order! Order! ORDERRRRR!!"
How could you, Lana? Mere days before it happened, we had every intent to spend our lives together. There were going to be no secrets between us, no lies… Is your blackmailer truly so horrible that you had to forsake our future together?
I needed you, Lana. Out of all the people I knew, I felt I could trust you no matter what happened. Up to this point, I always believed you would do what was right… no matter the cost… But you've been deceiving me from the start. Is this the real you? Someone who will do anything to save her own skin?
Miles brought his head up from his desk. Everyone had left.
All that's happened… because of the woman I loved… Why must life torment me so!?
Miles ran out of the courtroom, too heartbroken to cry.