Chapter 14
Mistrial
"Daddy!" Miles awoke screaming. The room he slept in was large and though he'd lived there for nearly a year, it still felt like he was only visiting. He covered his mouth with his hands, did he cry out? He hoped he hadn't cried out—maybe it was just in his head. Miles' heart was pounding and he shivered slightly. He sat up and slid back between the pillows so that his back was against the headboard and drew his knees up to his chin. Miles started to rock.
He hoped he hadn't said anything out loud—he didn't want to have to see Mister Von Karma—not in regard to this. Miles wasn't sure what frightened him most anymore, the terrors that manifested in his dreams, or Mister Von Karma's lectures and admonishment. Miles kept his hands clamped tightly over his mouth, he wouldn't cry—no he had to be strong, he wouldn't cry. Already he could feel the sobs rising up through his chest and wrack his shoulders.
Miles grabbed one of the large pillows and hugged it, burying his face. No one could see him like this. He cried into the pillow until his tears seemed to run out. He lay back down and stared out of the window until the sky outside paled with the first light of morning. He stayed in the big bed until he heard a rooster crow, the sound faded by distance but welcome nonetheless.
Miles slid out of the bed and hobbled stiffly toward the bathroom. He dressed himself after his morning ablutions—he couldn't get used to this. Everyday he was made to put on layers of archaic clothing—living here was like living in a Victorian Novel. He lifted his head so he could tie his neck cloth with the aid of the mirror. The little boy that stared back was taller—at least a little taller. The face was pale, the eyes hollowed with a bruised look that seemed to shadow his face. Miles frowned—he hardly recognized that boy anymore.
No matter how early Miles arrived at the breakfast table, Mister Von Karma was already there. Mister Von Karma used to say things to him when he arrived—asking how he'd slept, or if he'd hoped to learn something new. Miles told him once that he wanted to go home. After that, Mister Von Karma acted like he wasn't even there.
Breakfast was never changing; they were allowed tea and oatmeal porridge. Miles was starting to hate oatmeal—but one had to eat. After breakfast he went out into the garden and walked quietly along the paths until he was called in for lessons. Mister Von Karma certainly took very special care with his and Franziska's education.
The morning lessons were shared with the little girl and she was the only person in the great big house who seemed to acknowledge his presence most of the time. After luncheon with Franziska and Mister Von Karma—which always seemed brightened by the girl's antics—Miles spent the afternoon doing advanced lessons. Mister Von Karma said the education system Miles had grown up with was woefully inadequate, and he had a lot of catching up to do if he wanted to be anything more than just another Edgeworth.
Miles never understood what the man meant by that—the only Edgeworths Miles had ever known were all dead.
His afternoon lessons took him into supper. If he was lucky, he'd go outside with Franziska in the early evenings before the sun set. Usually he was back at his studies until the dreaded nighttime.
The days were so monotonous they blended together, and Miles could hardly tell one from the other and if it weren't for the length of his hair, Miles wouldn't have known that so much time had passed.
So of course Miles was very surprised that morning, when he came down for his tea and porridge and Mister Von Karma was not at the table. Instead he was met by a beautiful girl, with light brown hair and eyes like honey. She was dressed in clothes that looked like the clothes people wore in normal places. She smiled sweetly at him when he joined her at the table.
"Guten Morgen," she said.
Miles was so surprised at her presence that he just stared.
"Are you Miles Edgeworth?"
He nodded. She smiled at him, "My name is Adelheid Von Karma," she said, "I'm Franziska's big sister."
Miles continued to stare dumbly at her. She giggled at him.
"Are you okay?" she said, "Can you speak?"
"Yes," Miles said.
"You're a very cute boy," Adelheid said. Miles blushed and poked at his oatmeal with his spoon.
"Usually, I come and get Franziska when Papa has to go somewhere," Adelheid said, "But I asked if he'd let you come too. I thought maybe you'd like to see more of Germany."
"Yes," Miles said.
Adelheid giggled at his reaction, "Perfect," she said.
"Adelheid," Miles said, "Do you know how long I'm going to stay here?"
"Um, Miles," Adelheid said, "Didn't you know? You've been adopted. My Papa is your Papa now."
Miles frowned, "I have a father."
"He died Miles."
"I know that," Miles said, "But he's still my father."
Adelheid frowned at him, "Miles, are you well?"
Miles nodded, it was such a strange question for her to ask.
They let silence stretch between them and Miles choked down a few spoonfuls of porridge. Adelheid watched him and she had an odd look on her face.
"Miles, what did your father do? I mean, what was his job?"
"He was a defense attorney," Miles said.
Adelheid frowned, "I see…"
January 11, 1:50 P.M.
District Court
Courtroom No. 2
Miles drummed the edge of the prosecution table with his fingers. Things were deteriorating rapidly, for both sides. The Judge looked like he was about ready to nod off after the last cross-examination. Still Shield continued to press aimlessly, and linger on every word—desperate for some contradiction.
"Objection," Edgeworth said, "This is meaningless and irrelevant banter. Doctor Scalpel has already made it perfectly clear that despite whatever damage the bodies may have sustained post mortem, the single cause of death in all twelve victims was strangulation."
"The hyoid was only broken in five of the victims," Shield countered.
"And we've already shown evidence that the killer began using ligatures in later episodes. I also shouldn't have to mention again that four of the victims were adolescents, under the age of sixteen. Your Honor, the defense is stalling."
The judge smacked his gavel, "Yes, I agree. Ms. Shield if you cannot derive any new information in your cross-examination, I ask that you stand down, so we can move on."
Shield glared at Edgeworth and then she glared at the Coroner and sighed, "The Defense has no further questions Your Honor."
"Great," the Judge said, "Mister Edgeworth?"
"The Prosecution has sufficiently presented its case, Your Honor."
The Judge smacked his gavel again, "Will the defendant take the stand? I see no reason to prolong this trial any further. Based on the case presented, the court finds Mr. Kurt Sheinheilig guil—"
"Hold on! Um, Your Honor," Shield said.
Edgeworth crossed his arms and glared at her.
"The Defense asks that you allow us to present our rebuttal. I believe that my client is innocent, Your Honor, and no one can attest to that better than he can."
"Does the Prosecution have a problem with that, Mister Edgeworth?"
"Other than wasting more of our time, the Prosecution sees no problem with Mr. Sheinheilig's testimony."
"Very well," the Judge said, "But I'm warning you Shield, if I find that Sheinheilig's testimony has no material bearing on this case, you will be held in contempt. No screwing around."
"Yes, Your Honor," Shield said and she shook her pixie haircut as if she'd just scored a victory. Edgeworth crossed his arms impatiently.
"The court will take a thirty-minute recess," the Judge said, "So that the Defense can prepare her witness." He smacked his gavel and then stood to leave. Shield smiled at Edgeworth as she gathered her things to leave.
Miles walked into the Prosecution's lobby still frowning, it wasn't quite two o'clock and it had already been a long day. Franziska was sitting in the lobby looking very gloomy, in spite of the garish and spangley top she had purchased from the stylish and upscale Lordly Tailor and decided to wear today. Detective Gumshoe stood near her protectively, holding a cardboard takeout box; he was frowning too.
"Let's go to the cafeteria, I've only got half an hour," Miles said.
No one spoke and they made a rather morose trio as they headed toward the open space of the courthouse cafeteria. Miles saw the Judge there using his status to get to the head of the line. They picked a table at the back and Gumshoe set down the box and started to pass out paper plates and plastic cutlery. Franziska put an elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand.
"Is everything all right Franziska?" Miles said pausing from his perusal of the take out containers in the box.
"Yes," she said, "Papa just looks so sad in prison."
Miles frowned, "It isn't supposed to be pleasant," he muttered and went back to serving himself from the Chinese food Gumshoe had brought.
"How is the trial going, sir?" Gumshoe said, already tucking in.
"I think everyone's had about enough of it," Miles said, "and I'm famished—and therefore distracted. That Shield just kept dragging things out—for no apparent reason."
"Why isn't it over yet?" Franziska said toying with a plastic fork on her empty plate.
"You better eat something," Miles scolded rubbing a pair of cheap wooden chopsticks together, "Now she wants to put the killer on the stand."
"You didn't object?" Franziska said, "This can go very badly for you—unless you're aiming for a perfect losing streak."
"I'm curious," Miles said, "Besides, our job is to convict beyond a reasonable doubt—so I don't see a problem with it."
Franziska took the carton of Lo Mein away from Miles and tipped it toward her plate, "I think you've cracked, Papa thinks so too. Like it doesn't matter to you anymore."
Miles paused and put down his chopsticks, "What doesn't matter?"
"Winning," Franziska said, "Putting criminals in prison. That's the whole point of what we do."
"If the defendant is truly innocent, then it's not really winning is it?" Miles said.
"If you've done a perfect investigation, then you can't lose," Franziska said.
"Sometimes things aren't so simple—especially with the tight schedules we have to work with now-a-days," Miles said, he checked his watch, "I should go."
"You still have ten—" Gumshoe said.
"I have to brush my teeth," Miles said abandoning his half-finished plate, but he rummaged in the takeout bag for an eggroll, "Thanks for bringing lunch—I'll pay you back later."
"It doesn't take ten minutes to brush—" Gumshoe started to protest.
But Miles was already walking away he waved at them to stay where they were. He finished his eggroll as he stepped into the small outdoor courtyard off of the cafeteria and pulled out his phone and thumbed through his contacts while dabbing his mouth with a napkin. He hit send on the phone.
"Detective Goodman," he said into the phone when the other line picked up, "This is Edgeworth. Do you have the profile on the brother ready? Can you have it sent over straight away? No, Gumshoe's here. Good, thanks. I'll see you then."
He hung up and dialed another number, "Chief, it's Edgeworth. The defense is going for it. Yeah, Detective Goodman has it and he should be on his way over shortly. No, I don't think it will be a problem. What? Well, Chief, if that happens I have a plan—don't worry about it."
Miles checked his watch again after he'd hung up and went to go brush his teeth.
"I can't keep doing this with you," Manfred Von Karma said.
Miles stared mutely up at Mister Von Karma, he had his arms crossed and tried his best to look serious and determined, but Miles was frightened of the man.
"I don't understand it, all of them, your tutors, they tell me you're smart—so smart," Mister Von Karma shook his head, "Yet I find you've been sleeping during your lessons—are you that bored?"
"No, sir," Miles said.
"Do you realize how much it costs for me to bring in teachers for you? When you sleep during your lessons it's like you're stealing from me!"
Miles swallowed.
"When are you going to stop acting like a child, Miles Edgeworth?"
Miles frowned; he was ten-years-old. He was trying his best.
"When I was your age, I was already in court—preparing for my trade. You can't even get through your lessons. You're a waste of space Miles Edgeworth. You're stupid and lazy—but then what should I expect from an Edgeworth?"
"I'm sorry, sir," Miles said his voice was small and suppressed in his fear.
"We Von Karmas, we are like lions," Mister Von Karma said, "You're like a mouse—insignificant and sneaking. What should I do with you?"
"I'll try harder," Miles said.
"I just don't think that's enough anymore," Von Karma said, "At least, I've found a solution for one problem. In the fall you will start at the International School, you can celebrate your mediocrity with the rest of mediocrity."
"What school?"
"The in-ter-nah-shun-nal school," Von Karma said, "Do you know what international means?"
"Yes, sir," Miles said.
"It's a boarding school," Von Karma said, "So you'll have to learn to stop crying like a baby in your sleep, or the other boys will make fun of you. Maybe someone there will get through to you, because, I'm at a loss."
After relaying his news, Mister Von Karma left Miles alone in the study. Miles didn't like living with Mister Von Karma, but he didn't like the thought of moving to another home.
Miles turned back to the book he'd been reading before Mister Von Karma had come to tell him he was going to be sent away again. He stretched his fingers over the surface of the page. His knuckles were bruised and the marks stood out stark against his pale skin. Some of the tutors hit his knuckles if he did something wrong. Usually, he dosed off during lessons. Miles always tried to be a good student otherwise—he couldn't help it if was tired though. No one here could help him with that.
January 11, 2:27 P.M.
District Court
Courtroom No. 2
"Welcome back," the Judge said looking more energetic than he had before the recess, "I hope everyone is feeling better after a little break. The Prosecution is minty fresh—I saw him brushing his teeth just now."
Edgeworth frowned at the Judge, "The Defense was going to call a witness to rebut the Prosecution's case—keep me honest Mister Edgeworth…"
"Um, yes. That's correct Your Honor," Edgeworth said.
"Ms. Shield, your witness, please," the Judge said.
"Your Honor," Shield said, "the Defense would like to call Mr. Kurt Sheinheilig to the stand."
The courtroom erupted in murmurs as the bailiff led the handcuffed defendant to the witness stand. He wasn't a striking man. Average height, slight paunch, light brown hair and brown eyes—nothing about him stood out at all.
"Please state your name and occupation," Ms. Shield said.
Sheinheilig gazed nervously about the courtroom audience, "My name is Kurt… Kurt Sheinheilig. Until very recently, I was employed by Reformed and Reborn dot com."
"What did you do there?" The Judge asked.
"Sir, I was one of the web masters for the site."
"Web Master?"
"Yes, Your Honor, I managed the content of the website itself—how it looks to the general public. That sort of thing."
"Did your job give you access to client information?"
"No, Your Honor, the accounts managers dealt with client information. My job was to make sure the site worked the way Mr. Rector intended it to work."
"Hmm, interesting," the Judge said and Edgeworth wondered how much of what the witness said the Judge actually understood.
"Mr. Sheinheilig," Shield said, "Tell us about your background. Where you're from, what your family was like, how you ended up working for Reformed and Reborn dot com."
"Objection," Edgeworth said, "you just asked three questions."
"Yes," the Judge said, "We don't need a narrative from the defendant. And let's keep your questions to those that relate directly to this case. If you don't have a good reason for the testimony, you'd best not ask."
"Yes, Your Honor," Shield said, "The Defense wants to establish the defendant's psychological state during the murders."
"Objection," Edgeworth said.
"Sustained," the Judge said, "We've already heard sufficient expert testimony to that effect. I don't believe the defendant is qualified to talk about his own psychological state."
"Yes, Your Honor," Shield said, "Mr. Sheinheilig, tell us how you came to work at Reformed and Reborn dot com."
"Objection," Edgeworth said, "That question has been asked and answered."
"Sustained," the Judge said, he was glowering now. Edgeworth crossed his arms.
"Mr. Sheinheilig," Shield said, "Have you ever met any of the victims—"
"Objection," Edgeworth said, "Argumentative… The Prosecution has already established the defendant's connection with each victim."
"Sustained," the Judge said, "Ms. Shield, are you trying to replay the entirety of the last three days of this trial? If there is nothing new, I'm going to make my ruling."
"Your Honor," Shield said, "I do have one question, Your Honor."
"Why didn't you just ask that question, and be done with it?" the Judge said.
Shield grinned sheepishly, "Mr. Sheinheilig, is there any physical reason that might have impeded your ability to commit the crimes that you have been accused of?"
A murmur ran through the court audience. The Judge pounded his gavel, "Order! I said Order!"
Shield looked at Edgeworth and grinned, he still had his arms crossed and was now tapping his finger impatiently.
"What is the meaning of this?"
"I thought the question was pretty direct, Your Honor," Shield said.
"Mister Edgeworth?" the Judge said. Edgeworth remained impassive.
"It was straightforward," he said.
The Judge looked at Sheinheilig, "Well? Are you going to answer the question?"
"Your Honor," Sheinheilig said, "There is one thing that makes it difficult for me to do most things."
The witness lifted his right arm and grabbed his elbow with his left hand and pulled off his arm. The court fell into frenzy. The Judge was speechless. Shield shook her pixie fringe in victory. Edgeworth smirked a little; he hadn't expected this much drama.
The Judge was pounding his gavel so violently his face turned red, "Order!" He shouted.
"I will have ORDER!"
In spite of the Judge's shouting it took several minutes for the courtroom to settle. The Judge was panting from his efforts to bring order to the proceeding.
"The Defense holds that the Defendant's disability makes it impossible for him to have committed the crimes for which he has been accused."
"Objection," Edgeworth said almost drawling with ennui.
Shield looked at him shocked that he had anything to say about this—shocked that he didn't seem as surprised as everyone else.
"Mister Edgeworth?" the Judge said.
"She can't prove it," Edgeworth said coolly.
"He only has one arm," the Judge pointed out in a not so discreet whisper.
"Can you disprove it?" Shield said, "The Defense would like to point out that the Prosecution is saddled with the Burden of Proof."
Edgeworth glared at her, "Not so fast, I don't have to prove or disprove your claims."
"Because you can't."
Edgeworth made at noise at her, thinking he would gladly choke her out with one hand tied behind his back—if it would constitute proof enough that her claim was unfounded and flimsy. Of course, that would be a very uncouth thing to say in court.
"Edgeworth?" the Judge said.
"Your Honor," Edgeworth said with a shrug, "I realize that it must come as quite a shock to learn that the defendant only has one arm. But I, and the millions of disabled workers in this country will attest to the fact that such disabilities—while they might impair normal activities—do not prevent one's ability to live a normal and productive life."
"But of course," Edgeworth continued, "I don't expect anyone to take me at my word. Please turn your attention back to the following exhibit from Doctor Scalpel's earlier testimony."
He turned the projector back on and the coroner's photos filled the screen. The lit screen showed twelve gruesome close-ups of twelve mangled necks. Edgeworth walked out in front of the bench; he looked out into the audience and saw Franziska playing with her phone.
"Miss Von Karma will stand in for the victim," Edgeworth said.
She glared at him but Gumshoe was already pushing her toward the stairs. She stood in front of him in the middle of the courtroom glaring daggers at him. Edgeworth borrowed the bailiff's baton and took off his jacket.
"What is the meaning of this," Shield said.
"Your proof," Edgeworth said and he held up his left hand before sliding it behind his back, gripping his belt for good measure. He pointed with the baton at the screen.
"Victim number one," he said aloud, "Non-fatal blunt force trauma to the face and head."
He mimicked smacking Franziska with the baton, "The victim loses consciousness."
Franziska made an impatient noise and then lay down on the courtroom floor, Edgeworth placed the baton against her throat, "The killer uses his foot to apply enough pressure to crush the larynx and block her airway, killing the victim."
He stepped back and motioned for Franziska to stand and pointed with the baton again, "Victim number two, non-fatal bruising along the lower mandible."
He set down the baton and came up behind Franziska and slid his hand under her jaw so that the thumb and forefinger formed a choker against her throat where her neck met her head.
"Victim number two struggled," Edgeworth said and mimicked banging his forehead into the back of Franziska's skull, "Non-fatal trauma to the back of the skull. He broke her neck."
Edgeworth slid his arm so that Franziska's neck was caught in the crook of his elbow, "And held her there until she stopped breathing."
"Do you really need me to go on?" Edgeworth said turning to fix the Judge with his cold gray stare.
"That was fantastic! And that girl was very cute too," the Judge said.
Edgeworth dismissed Franziska with a nod and she hurried away from the center of the courtroom. He slid into his jacket and took a moment to straighten his cuffs.
Sheinheilig was trembling on the stand, "You should've done number five…"
Shield gaped at him, "OBJECTION!"
"You're the one who asked him to prove the crimes could be done one-handed," the Judge said. Edgeworth eyed Shield scrupulously.
"What did he say?" Edgeworth asked.
"Nothing!" Shield said, "That testimony was unsolicited and therefore illegal!"
"Did somebody say something?" the Judge asked.
"No, Your Honor," Shield said. Edgeworth's eyes narrowed—he couldn't let this guy go.
"Well?" the Judge said, "Is the Defense finished?"
"The Defense requests further testimony about the Defendant's family—specifically his relationship to Albert Sheinheilig."
"Objection," Edgeworth, "I want to see proof of relevance."
"Sustained," the Judge said, "If you can't provide proof that the victim's family relations are relevant to this case, you will be penalized."
"The Defense submits the following evidence," she walked up to the bench and laid a photo in front of the Judge.
Edgeworth leaned forward; he hadn't counted on her being quite so clever.
"Mister Edgeworth, please approach the bench," the Judge said.
Edgeworth walked up to the bench and glared at the photograph. Twin boys—identical twin boys. He'd seen this photo before. Edgeworth nodded begrudgingly at the Judge.
"The photo is valid," Edgeworth said, "But I still don't see how that makes the testimony relevant."
"Your Honor," Shield said, "The defendant has an identical twin brother. It's possible that his brother is the real killer."
"You can prove that?" Edgeworth said. No she couldn't, not without cheating—and Edgeworth wasn't going to let that happen.
"Very well," the Judge said, "I'll allow this testimony."
Edgeworth frowned as he walked back to his table. Shield looked happy again and her fringed pixie cut bobbed even more.
"Mister Sheinheilig," Shield said, "Tell us about Albert Sheinheilig."
The Defendant smiled cockily at the audience, "Gladly, Ms. Shield. Albert is my twin brother—we're identical twins. Albert and I have spent the majority of our lives together. When I started working for Reformed and Reborn dot com, I had to move away. Six months ago, Albert disappeared."
"What's significant about Identical Twins, Mister Sheinheilig? Specifically their DNA?" Shield asked.
"Objection!" Edgeworth said, "The Defendant isn't qualified to speak on the subject of DNA."
"Sustained," the Judge said.
"In regard to identical twins, have you ever been told by a doctor—"
"Objection," Edgeworth said, "You can twist that question as much as you like, but the Defendant will never magically become a Geneticist."
"Your Honor, the Defense wishes to present the following article from the New England Journal of Medicine."
"What's this?" the Judge said, "An article on identical twins. I don't see—"
"She wants to point out that identical twins also have identical DNA," Edgeworth said.
The Judge glared at the article in his hand and he looked up at the defense and then over at Edgeworth, "Both of you come here."
"The possibility of another person that fits the exact same profile as the defendant—right down to the DNA—casts a huge shadow of doubt on this case," the Judge said.
Edgeworth grimaced, Shield grinned.
"However, the mere possibility that Albert Sheinheilig is the killer, doesn't clear all suspicion from Kurt Sheinheilig. Can either of you prove that Kurt is innocent or guilty and do so in the next half-hour?"
"Your Honor," Shield said, "If we could have one more day—"
"You realize there are other cases on the docket in this district? As it were this trial has gone on entirely too long," the Judge glared at Shield.
"There's a limit to how long the trial can continue," Edgeworth said with a frown.
The Judge looked very flustered all of a sudden, "I'm going to take a five minute recess. Five minutes!" he smacked his gavel and ran back toward his chambers leaving Edgeworth and Shield alone together at the bench.
Miles sighed, and put his hand on his stomach, "I feel sick."
Shield looked straight into his eyes, "Poor kid, come on, let's get you some water or something."
Miles let her lead him into the defendant lobby; the water fountain was in its own nook so that it wouldn't disrupt traffic. Miles took a drink from the fountain and turned to see Shield still standing very close to him. He cringed inwardly; he'd never had to do this before. He was sure it was only luck that the Defense Attorney was a woman. Miles smiled at her—sometimes it was hard to remember how to do it correctly when it was forced—and hoped that she would fall for it. She melted under her pixie-fringe.
"I've never gone up against so strong a defense," Miles said he angled his head toward the floor and gazed at her through his eyelashes.
"You're a smart kid," Shield said and Miles thought her voice was even more grating up close, "Don't sell yourself short."
Miles leaned toward her and put his mouth near her ear—hoping he wouldn't gag from her weird onion smell—and he whispered into her ear.
Her eyes widened, "Are you serious?"
Miles forced his saddest frown and nodded.
"You let me talk to Kurt, I can convince him."
"Thank you," Miles said, "I won't forget this."
Shield gave him a long simpering look before turning toward the doors to the courtroom. Miles walked around so he could enter through the prosecution lobby. This was a new low for him. The Judge still looked distraught when proceedings began again. Miles did his best to suppress any outward sign of relief when the defense stood up.
"Your Honor," she said, "It seems we have come to an impasse. An issue propounded by the Prosecution has brought this trial to a point where no decision can reasonably be made without infringing on the rights of my client or his twin brother. Your Honor, the Defense motions for a Mistrial on the grounds that the Prosecution has failed to adhere to due process afforded by the laws of this state and the constitution."
The Judge picked up his head and looked around almost relieved. He looked at Edgeworth, "Does the Prosecution dispute this claim?"
Edgeworth hesitated and then shook his head, "No, Your Honor."
"You will be penalized," the Judge said.
"I understand Your Honor."
The Judge smacked his gavel, "This trial cannot continue, nor can the arguments presented herein be resolved in a reasonable manner. I declare this trial null and void. The case may be pursued for a retrial at a later date."
"What was that all about?" "What happened back there?" "Edgeworth what did you do?" "Edgeworth are you crazy?" "Miles, did you throw that case?"
Miles brushed past the crowds and the questions and walked quickly down the courthouse steps. He had Franziska's arm in his hand and she followed him reluctantly toward the parking lot. He didn't even bother to check her shoes for dirt but closed her door and went around to the driver's seat. He rubbed his face wearily.
"Miles Edgeworth what are you playing at?" She said.
Miles didn't answer but he started the car and pulled out of the courthouse parking before the mob caught them up.
"You let the defense motion for a mistrial, how foolishly foolish—"
"The situation was a little more complicated than that," Miles said, "Kurt Sheinheilig really does have a twin brother named Albert. Albert's very existence effectively cancels out eighty percent of the evidence we used to arrest Kurt. Now, I think Albert is dead, that's what the police are speculating too—but nothing is conclusive yet. If the Judge declared a mistrial on his own, or if I motioned for a mistrial, we wouldn't be able to try Kurt Sheinheilig again, because of Double Jeopardy. That guy's guilty—I couldn't risk him getting away with it."
"Well it seems like a stupid and convoluted way to get the bad guy. Only a fool—"
Miles' phone started to buzz in his pocket and he fumbled in his jacket for it.
"You shouldn't drive and use your phone," Franziska said, and swatted at his hand before reaching into his pocket to get his phone.
"Edgeworth's phone," she said, Miles shot her an annoyed look, "Oh hi Dick!"
"You two are getting awful chummy," Miles grumbled and he stomped the clutch and shifted as he sped up to clear a yellow light.
"No, he's fine. Apparently that was his plan if he couldn't get the conviction. Um no, not yet… I will, okay. Talk to you later!"
"Are you plotting against me?" Miles said.
"Only you would say something like that in real life, little brother," Franziska said.
She was still holding his phone when it rang again, "Edgeworth's phone."
"Franziska, just give me my phone!" Miles said.
"No," Franziska said coolly, "He's driving. I'm Franziska Von Karma, who are you?"
"Oh, well what can I do for you? I told you, he's driving," Franziska made a face on the phone. Miles glanced between her and the windshield frowning.
"Oh, okay," Franziska said to the caller, "Miles, Chief Prosecutor Skye says you've got a lot of explaining to do."
"Give me my phone," Miles said and held out a hand. Franziska put her hand in his and continued listening to the caller.
"No, but Miles said that if the Judge or the Prosecution motioned for a mistrial, the defendant couldn't be tried again—right."
Franziska laughed on the phone. Miles' was gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles went white. He gritted his teeth.
"I'll tell him that anyway," Franziska said, "Miles, sometimes you do the most harebrained things. Enjoy your weekend Miles."
Franziska hung up and dropped his phone into his pocket.
"You're trying to make me crazy," Miles spat at her.
A/N: Thanks for Reading!
Miles Edgeworth… He still plays dirty in court…
Miles' boarding school "Hogarth's School of Lawyers and Lawyering"…. Nah, I didn't think so either…
UPDATED 5JUL2015—Edited for minor grammatical issues. Something about the ending of this trial still bugs me. Don't be surprised to see it change someday.