"Hey Dahlia, the Steel Samurai is on in five minutes!" Maya said, reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table.
Dahlia swipes the remote just in time. "Thanks for the suggestion, but I think I'll watch Pokémon instead."
"It wasn't a suggestion," Maya said. Her fists were held up, and she had a determined look on her face.
"Tough sister," Dahlia said, pretending not to get the hint. She turned on the TV and flipped through the channels until she heard the Pokémon theme song.
"Give me that!" Maya said, and snatched the remote and the Pokémon theme song was replaced by the Steel Samurai's.
"Hey, I was watching that!" Dahlia said.
"Tough sister," Maya said, and slumped on the couch.
As far as Dahlia was concerned though, the battle was far from over. She lunged for the remote, which Maya grabbed and kept out of reach. Dahlia basically climbed over the spirit medium and took the remote. She managed to switch the channel back before Maya began her assult.
"Steel Samurai!" Maya said.
"Pokémon!" Dahlia said.
They were still wrestling for the remote when Mia burst into the office. "Dahlia! I just got a clie…"
"Dragon Rage!" Dahlia said, striking her arm out and taking the remote.
"Samurai Swipe of Justice!" Maya said, snatching the remote.
Mia just face palmed. She sighed and said in a louder voice, "Dahlia! You have a new client! His name is Phoenix Wright!"
"Like the Wright Brother? Maya give me the remote!" Dahlia said.
"Never!" Maya yelled.
"Oh yeah?" Dahlia said.
"Yeah!" Maya said.
Mia clenched her teeth and grabbed Dahlia by the arm, sweeping her off the couch. "Let's go Dahlia."
"This is so not over Maya! I shall have my revenge!" Dahlia said before standing up.
"Yeah, uh-huh," Maya said, barely listening anymore.
Mia drove Dahlia to the Detention Center. They went inside and soon found themselves looking into another room separated by glass waiting for Dahlia's client.
The first thing Dahlia noticed about her client when he walked in was his hair. She couldn't decide if the spikes were on purpose or if it was some weird kind of bed-head. Other than his hair, Dahlia didn't find anything appearance-wise that was unique. He wore a blue sweatshirt and jeans, with a red scarf wrapped around his neck. His face was downcast, when he sat down from the other side of the glass he just stared at his shoes.
"Hey," Dahlia said. "You're Phoenix, right?"
"Yeah, Phoenix Wright, that's me," Phoenix said.
Dahlia realized her accidental play on words, but decided not to mention it. "I'm Dahlia Fey. I'll be representing you."
"I didn't do it!" Phoenix's head snapped up and made eye contact. His eyes were pleading. "You've got to believe me!"
"Whoa, whoa, easy," Dahlia said, caught off guard. "Tell me what happened. Why were you arrested?"
"Because… I was there when she died," Phoenix said, shifting uncomfortably. "But I'm innocent!"
"Great, that will make it so much easier to defend you," Dahlia said. "So it was a murder, huh?"
Phoenix gulped. "Yeah, a woman was killed."
"Who was this woman, Mr. Wright?" Dahlia said, but the formalness didn't feel right. Phoenix looked like a he needed a friend more than a lawyer. "Say, is there a nickname you prefer?"
"Well, my friends call me Nick," Phoenix said.
"Alright, so who was the woman that died Nick?" Dahlia said.
"I think her name was Maggie or something," Phoenix said. "Now I remember; her name was Maggey Byrde!"
Dahlia nodded. "Interesting, so where did the murder take place?"
"This place called Exposé Park, I was just painting there," Phoenix said. "I'm an art student, by the way."
"Art, huh?" Dahlia said.
"Yeah," Phoenix said, brightening up a little. "Painting, charcoal, that kind of stuff. My teacher says I'm good at portraits."
"Okay, anything else?" Dahlia said.
"I'm afraid I don't know a lot about all this," Phoenix said.
"It's fine, I'll just go investigate myself," Dahlia said. "You have nothing to worry about, Nick. I'm on the case."
"Thank you!" Phoenix said. "If there's anything I can do to help, you just let me know!"
"I'll keep that in mind," Dahlia said and left the room.
Mia was waiting for her outside the detention center. "So how was it?"
"He's… enthusiastic," Dahlia said. "But I don't think he killed anyone."
"That's good," Mia said. "I need to meet with Diego in a little bit, but I can drop you off somewhere if you need it."
"That would be great," Dahlia said. "Do you mind taking me to Exposé Park?"
Mia dropped Dahlia off at the park and drove off. Dahlia looked around. It was a nice looking park, with a cobblestone path, classic lamp posts, and a stone bridge walkway. Then Dahlia's eyes were drawn to the white chalk outline of a body sprawled on the path. Kind of kills the mood.
Dahlia walked past the police tape and bent down to examine the body outline. There was a dry bloodstain near where the stomach was outlined. Hmm, was the victim punctured in the abdomen somehow?
"Hey pal, step away from the crime scene. No unauthorized personnel!" a male voice said behind Dahlia.
She quickly stood up and backed away. A man in a brown coat ran over to her, a detective's badge in his hand. The man, presumably a detective, reached her and put the badge away.
"Just what were you thinking? This is a crime scene, got it? No civilians," the man said.
"I'm not just a civilian," Dahlia said curtly. "I'm an attorney."
"A defense attorney, yes. That doesn't give you clearance," the man said, glaring at her. "Just who are you, anyway?"
"Dahlia Fey," she said. "And you're right, I'm a defense attorney. Your turn."
"Miles Edgeworth," the man said. "Homicide Detective."
"Alright, so what happened, Detective?" Dahlia said.
"I'm not at liberty to speak of this incident," Detective Edgeworth said. "Now kindly leave."
"Just tell me what happened. I'm going to be defending the suspect for this case, so I need to know what happened," Dahlia said, holding her ground.
Edgeworth sighed. "How long have you been an attorney?"
"What does it matter?" Dahlia said.
"Obviously not very long," Edgeworth said, ignoring her comment. "You seem to have yet to understand that I can't discuss the case with you, as a detective I work for the prosecution."
"So? At least tell me how Maggey died," Dahlia said.
"No," Edgeworth said sternly.
Dahlia felt an unearthly warm from the Magatama around her neck. Suddenly, Dahlia could only see Edgeworth. Then chains appeared, separating Dahlia from the detective. Two red locks kept the chains in place.
I should have known I'd see these sooner or later. Psyche-Locks. And the only way I can get any information from this Edgeworth guy is if I break through them, psychologically. But I can't right now, I don't know anything. Dahlia sighed.
"Alright, you win. But I'll be back," Dahlia said and walked away to explore the rest of the park.
Unfortunately, the crime scene seemed to be the only place in the park worth investigating. Dahlia was just about to give up when she heard a familiar voice.
"Reckon course I'm telling the truth, y'all!" said a female voice with a heavy southern drawl.
Dahlia looked around and saw a puff of curly red hair.
"Alright, pal. Just checking," said the big scruffy looking man next to her.
They spoke for a couple minutes more, but Dahlia didn't hear it. When the man walked away, Dahlia walked up to the woman.
"Hey Lotta, what are you doing?" Dahlia said cheerfully.
"Dahlia, fancy meeting you here!" Lotta said.
After Lotta's trial, she and Dahlia had stayed in touch. They had been going out just about every Friday night for two months now. In that time Dahlia found that Lotta wanted to be a photographer, and she was a major gossip.
"Did you hear about what happened in this park yesterday?" Lotta said.
"You mean the murder?" Dahlia said.
"Yeah," Lotta said in an excited whisper. "I was there! I saw it happen!"
"You're going to be a witness?" Dahlia said, shocked.
"Reckgiven!" Lotta said. "How did you find out about it?"
"I'm the suspect's lawyer," Dahlia said.
"No way!" Lotta said. "Y'all are going to cross-examine me and everything?"
"Yeah," Dahlia said. "It's ironic, in a way."
"Tell me about it," Lotta said.
"So what did you see?" Dahlia said.
"I'm not supposed to talk, you know," Lotta said.
"Come on, tell me something. That detective is a grouchy stickler about things," Dahlia said, the thought of Edgeworth leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.
"Grouchy stickler? Not sure if that's how I'd describe Detective Gumshoe," Lotta said, with a ponderous expression.
"Gumshoe?" Dahlia said, not on the same page.
"Yeah, the detective I was just talking too," Lotta said. "He's not in the best of moods, but I don't blame him. He knew the victim."
"Maggey Byrde?" Dahlia said.
"Personally, I think the old lug was a bit sweet on her," Lotta said. "He seemed to get really down when her death came up. And he kept asking me, "You sure you're telling the truth?" As if I would lie!"
"So that guy you were talking to was a detective," Dahlia said, thinking. "Where'd he go, anyway?"
"Said something about checking up on his protégé I think," Lotta said.
"Oh, I see," Dahlia said. "So how did the victim die again?"
"She was shot," Lotta said. "I even got pictures."
"You have photos?" Dahlia said. "Let me see."
"Nope," Lotta said, smugly. "You'll have to wait for the trial, missy."
"Seriously?" Dahlia said, annoyed.
"Sorry, not my rules," Lotta said.
"Please?" Dahlia said. "I want to see your excellent photography skills."
"You're not very good at flattery, you know that?" Lotta said. "Too transparent."
"Oh for crying out loud! Lotta in the name of the almighty Mew please let me see!" Dahlia begged.
Lotta sighed. "You really are a Pokémon nut. Alright, fine. Here, it's a bit fuzzy."
Lotta handed an appreciative Dahlia a photo. She was right, it is blurry.
The photo was black and white with indistinct humanoid shapes and a bright white flash between them.
"Is this the moment of the murder?" Dahlia said.
"Yeah, told you I saw it all," Lotta said. "I know it's not crystal clear, but I was lucky to get anything. And it does capture a couple defining features."
"Like what?" Dahlia inquired.
"Look at person on the right. That's the shooter," Lotta said.
Dahlia examined the person-shape and discovered what Lotta was talking about. The shooter had dark, spiky hair.