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Mia supposed it wasn’t confusing that the judge was upset.
Annoying, yeah. Unwelcome, certainly.
But confusing? Nah, that… made sense.
“Ms. Fey.”
“Yes, Your Honor?”
“Is that a hamster?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Why have you brought a hamster into the courtroom?”
Mia chanced a look down to the hamster sitting on the defense bench. She’d brought a small food bowl with her, with a relatively expensive seed and nut mixture. The hamster was busy stuffing its cheeks with enough food, she figured, to last maybe two to a million years. A true winner, that one.
“He’s acting as the defense, Your Honor.”
The judge’s eyebrows furrowed. “Ms. Fey,” he spoke slowly, gravely, “the courtroom is no place for jokes. A man’s life is on the line.”
“I understand, Your Honor. However,” she said more coolly than she felt, “he passed the Bar.”
“OBJECTION!” screeched Prosecutor Payne from across the room. “This is ridiculous! The defense should lose this trial right this moment for their mockery of the courtroom!”
“Now hold on a minute, Counsel,” the judge said. “If the Defense’s assistant claims the hamster passed the Bar, I’m inclined to consider this possibility.”
Payne deflated. Did he… whimper? Mia could’ve sworn that’s what she heard.
“Ms. Fey,” the judge began, “where is his attorney’s badge?”
“It’s here, Your Honor.” She held up a comically small attorney’s badge. She’d had to have it custom manufactured. Surprisingly expensive, really. “I’ve elected to hold onto it myself, at the risk of accidentally piercing his skin trying to stick it on his fur.”
“Bailiff!” the judge called, “Check the code on that badge. See if it’s genuine.”
The bailiff rushed up to grab the badge and dashed out of the room.
“In the meantime…” the judge said, “…Ms. Fey.”
“Yes, Your Honor?”
The judge seemed to be racking his brain. “Is that… the hamster?”
“From the case two years ago?”
“Yes.”
“The very same, Your Honor.”
Prosecutor Payne’s face drooped in recognition. Instinctively, he went to rub his head.
It was a curious case, that one two years ago. A pharmacology student at Ivy University had been murdered. After the investigation, Payne moved to indict his culprit of choice, and his culprit of choice was a hamster. He was widely mocked at the prosecutor’s office—“A hamster. You indicted a hamster?” one of his colleagues had said, shaking their head disappointedly. His detective had laid into him with a similar diatribe. “We put in all this effort to investigate this case, and you picked a SMALL FURRY ANIMAL to say was guilty of MURDER? Not even manslaughter, but A DELIBERATE MURDER?” they’d said. Payne simply pressed on. Well, I’ll show them! he’d thought.
He didn’t. The trial ended swiftly with a not guilty verdict, partly because the accused was a hamster, and partly because the culprit decided to take the stand. Frankly, Payne never understood why the culprits always chose to do that, but they did. Then, as he was sulking, wallowing in the depths of his despair, the hamster had jumped on his bench, then crawled up his suit, then peed in his hair. His hair—his gorgeous, luscious, fabulous hair—had just… fallen right off. He thought for a moment that he saw a devious glint in the hamster’s eye as it happened. Even worse, when he got back to the prosecutor’s office after that awful, awful trial, they threw him a surprise… anti-party, was that what they called it? “It’s like a normal party, but instead of being thrown to celebrate you, it’s being thrown to mock you,” The Deputy Chief of Police had said. “Come on, Wincey, come enjoy the festivities!”
He’d received a few cards from that event. Anti-cards? They certainly were mean, anyway. One stuck out to him the most, though. He’d opened the envelope, found a paper inside, and unfurled it to see the most beautiful stationery he’d ever seen. It was stunning but not overbearing, it was sparkling but not flashy, it was elegant, and it was clean. Gold foil wrapped around the edges of the page, forming wonderful swirling patterns that he could only describe as transfixing, because he lacked the vocabulary to put into words what his heart so eloquently felt. And in the middle, written in the neatest, sharpest script he could remember, was a message that simply read:
I could have done it.
—Prosecutor Manfred von Karma
He knew how busy that man’s schedule was. Something about the effort behind the card’s existence hurt more than the words themselves.
And now, somehow, astoundingly, he was here again. Facing the same defense attorney that handed him defeat 2 years ago, and the same hamster that peed in his hair. He shuddered.
Does hamster pee normally work like that? he thought now, as he did every so often. He’d never wanted to try to find an answer, partly because he didn’t want to think about the case and partly because he didn’t want to ask anyone or anything about it.
Well, it was a bit of a weird hamster, admittedly. Surely it has to be dying soon? It’s been 2 years. Hamsters don’t live very long, right? He didn’t know. He’d refused to do research on hamsters. But this—this was a very mysterious hamster. Wait. Wait wait wait. What was its name again? He took a shovel to his brain and tried to dig around for the answer.
“Ms. Fey,” the judge said, “would you remind the court of the hamster’s name?” Payne breathed a brief sigh of relief at the judge asking the question, which was then immediately displaced by dread upon remembering he was still in the room.
“Phoenix Wright, Your Honor,” Mia said.
“That’s an interesting name for a hamster.”
“I’d tend to agree, Your Honor. But, that’s what it is.”
Who names a pet that?
“And, Ms. Fey, what is that strange device you have sitting on the bench?”
“Oh, that’s a soundboard. If I may demonstrate,” she said, pressing a button without waiting for an answer. A loud “Objection!” noise rang out, causing Payne to jump so high his now-hypothetical hair would’ve brushed the ceiling. “He can’t much speak, so he’ll press the buttons as needed.” She demonstrated a couple of the other buttons: a “Hold it!”, a “Take that!”, a “Yes”, a “No”.
“And you believe he’s capable of defending your client?”
“Fully and completely, Your Honor.”
“And the accused, Mr. Larry Butz, is aware of this?”
“Of course, Your Honor. Phoenix was originally Mr. Butz’s pet.”
“I see.”
The bailiff sprinted back into the room, jostling the witness stand on the way in. “It’s,” he panted, “it’s, it’s uh, it’s-”
“Breathe, bailiff!”
“Sorry, Your Honor,” he said, “it’s genuine.” Payne frankly didn’t understand the rush, nor did he want it.
“Well, I believe that this trial must press on then. Mr. Payne, do you have any objections?”
“…Y– Yes,” he stammered.
The judge cocked his eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. He didn’t.
“Um, what might that be?” the judge said. “Could you tell us?”
“…”
“…?”
“…No.”
The judge simply blinked. “In that case, please give your opening statement.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Payne said, and took a moment to collect himself. He gripped his hands tightly into fists, gritted his teeth, straightened himself up, and tried to get out of his own head enough to deliver his usual cocky smile to his face. “The prosecution has incredibly damning evidence against the defens- er, the defendant, and an incredibly decisive witness! In fact, the most decisive witness you’ve ever seen, and that you ever did see! You will never see a better prosecution!”
…Huh, he thought. Did I overdo it? I think I overdid it.
“I… see,” the judge said, a bit amused. “In that case, please call your decisive witness.”
“Not yet. The prosecution would like to call the defendant, Larry Butz, to the stand!”
With no objections from the defense, Larry Butz stood proud in the face of the hardest fight of his life, with the exception of when Megan’s boyfriend caught him trying to flirt with her, or when Karina’s girlfriend caught him trying to flirt with her, or when Jacqueline made it very clear she was not single and he kept trying to propose to her, or when Amber made it very clear she was anti-Larry and he kept trying to propose to her, or when he followed Alicia to the sands of the Rub’ al Khali desert (really, it was sort of impressive that he’d managed to stow away inside a suitcase despite the fact no one had helped him get on the plane?), or when he accidentally pushed Kayla over the ship’s deck and into the ocean, or when…
“Witness,” Payne said, sounding significantly more collected, “please tell the court your name and occupation.”
“The name’s Larry Butz,” he smiled.
“Occupation?”
“Uh…” Larry paused. “…innocent?”
Mia sighed. You CAN say you’re unemployed, Larry.
She watched annoyedly as Prosecutor Payne began setting out his case—I don’t know why I’m so annoyed right now. I think his voice just has that effect on people?—that the victim, a Ms. Cindy Stone, had recently dumped Larry, that she’d had several sugar daddies, and that Larry’s motive was based on such. “We can clearly see what kind of woman this Ms. Stone was,” Payne prattled. Mia considered objecting to that on principle.
Payne went on. “Next question! You went to the victim’s apartment on the day of the murder, did you not?”
“Urk!” Larry gulped.
“Well, did you, or did you not?”
“Heh? Heh heh,” Larry smirked, “Well, maybe I did, and maybe I didn’t!”
He glanced over at the defense bench. Back to his hamster. At first, nothing. It was a hamster. But for a moment, he saw a fire in the hamster’s eyes, like an indignant parent.
“Er… yeah! Yeah, I was there! I went!” he stammered. “But… but she wasn’t home. So, like, I didn’t see her.”
“OBJECTION!” Payne wailed. Mia watched as the judge grimaced at the screech, realizing the judge was clearly enjoying Mr. Payne’s strength of presence about as much as she was.
“Your Honor, the prosecution would like to call a witness who can prove Mr. Butz is lying.” It was like a symphony of dying birds scrambling from his mouth and the feathers were getting caught in his throat. “The man who found the victim’s body. Just before making the gruesome discovery… he saw the defendant fleeing the scene of the crime!”
“Order! Order in the court! Mr. Payne, the prosecution may call its witness.”
“Yes, Your Honor. On the day of the murder, my witness was selling newspapers at the victim’s building. Please bring Mr. Frank Sahwit to the stand!”
Frank Sahwit stepped to the stand, eyes closed, covered in a wide, fake-looking grin that looked actively painful to sustain, hands clasped together as if holding a frog he found in his backyard, swaying back and forth on the beat of a pendulum. Mia thought that it’d be difficult for anyone to appear more untrustworthy.
Phoenix was munching on some sunflower seeds.
“Now, witness, please state your name and occupation.”
“Erm…” he said. “Frank Sahwit. And…” he hesitated.
“Mr. Sahwit, you sell newspaper subscriptions, is this correct?”
“Oh, oh yes! Newspapers, yes!”
“Mr. Sahwit, you may proceed with your testimony.”
“Oh! Yes, of course, Your Honor!”
Finally. Something to work with.
When do I get to see the frog? the judge thought.
Prosecutor Payne watched during the witness’s testimony. He knew what Sahwit’s first testimony would be, of course. He wasn’t the greatest prosecutor, but he wasn’t entirely incompetent.
Sahwit detailed his actions. That he was going door-to-door, selling newspaper subscriptions, when he saw Larry fleeing the scene. That he’d peeked into the left-open door and seen Ms. Stone dead. That he’d tried to call the police, but the phone in her apartment wasn’t working, so he’d had to use a public phone. And that it had all happened at 1:00 PM.
“Incidentally…” the judge asked, “Why wasn’t the phone in the victim’s apartment working?”
Payne answered dutifully. “Your Honor, at the time of the murder, there was a blackout in the building. I have a record of the blackout, for your perusal.”
“Very well, Mr. Payne, the court accepts this into evidence. Now, Mr. Wright, begin your cross-examination.”
Mr. Wright said nothing. The judge seemed satisfied nonetheless. Fool, Payne thought.
Sahwit began to repeat his testimony. Blah blah blah, hurry it up.
“However, the phone in her apartment wasn’t working-“
Suddenly, a cry of ”Hold it!” rang across the room. Phoenix had pressed the button on his soundboard. Mia lowered her head to the desk where Phoenix stood, as if to listen to him. A still settled over the room for a moment at the revelation.
Mia raised her head and broke the silence. “The phone in her apartment wasn’t working?”
“Yes,” Sahwit said. “I, I mean, no, no it wasn’t. Right.”
“But you said you didn’t go into the apartment… or did you?”
“Oh. Oh, that? I can explain that! There was a cordless phone on a shelf in the entranceway. I reached inside and tried using that to call…”
“Really? And that was more natural than stepping inside?”
“OBJECTION!” Payne cried. “Firstly, I will not tolerate this badgering of my witness! Secondly, you are not the defense here! Why are you performing this cross-examination?”
“Objection,” Mia said unconcernedly, “Mr. Payne, when was the last time you saw a hamster speak?”
“Well, I-“
“Do you suppose this is a fairy tale?”
“But regardless, the defense must-“
“I’m simply taking what I know the young lawyer is thinking and enunciating it to the court. You may presume my questions represent Phoenix’s.”
“But-“
The judge nodded. “Given the defense’s, er… unusual circumstances, I see no reason why this is not appropriate. Defense, please continue your cross-examination.”
Phoenix jumped on the button labeled “Yes!”, producing the corresponding sound. Payne stared at him. He thought he saw the hamster send a smug glare right back.
No way… Payne thought. Okay. Focus. You are NOT losing to a hamster today. You are NOT LOSING to a HAMSTER today. YOU ARE NOT LOSING TO A HAMSTER TODAY.
…
When do I get to see the frog, anyway?
Sahwit continued. “I remember the time exactly: it was 1:00 PM.”
“OBJECTION!”
Payne could only stare at Phoenix having jumped onto the button, already feeling his heart drop to the depths of his chest, some terrible disease working its way up to his throat. He watched in stunned silence as the hamster hopped off the button, cheeks still stuffed with food, and wandered over to a copy of the autopsy report sitting on the defense’s bench. Phoenix was… sniffing and pawing at something on the page.
Payne glanced down to his own copy of the autopsy report. Skimmed the page. Once. Twice. Frantically. Then he saw it.
No.
The time of death was 4 – 5 PM.
NO.
“H- huh?” Sahwit stammered. “No, I’m, well, yes! Oh, that was definitely the time!”
How could I have-
“Mr. Payne,” the judge said, “What is this about?”
Payne, looking sick, quietly muttered, “that’s before the time of death.”
“Oh!” the judge said. “Witness!”
“Ah! Yes?”
“Can you explain this discrepancy?”
“Well, er, no, I mean, yes, I, certainly! Please allow me to testify!”
“You may, Mr. Sahwit.”
Mia could only smile as Sahwit’s second testimony came in. Seasoned defense attorney that she was, she spotted the contradiction immediately when he said he heard the time from a video of a taped television program. She was confident in Phoenix, and her confidence had been met wholeheartedly by his immediate pouncing on the discrepancy between his testimony and the time of death. And she was confident that he would see–
Wait.
Where was Phoenix?
He wasn’t on the bench. Mia began to look around madly. He wasn’t at the floor beneath her feet. He wasn’t on the witness stand. He didn’t seem to be anywhere in the middle of the courtroom. He wasn’t at the judge’s bench. He could be in the gallery, but surely someone would say it if they saw a hamster at their feet, right? Right?
Where was he?
She decided to review what she knew. He was here on the bench a moment ago. Hamsters are fast but not that fast, so he’s got to be in this courtroom somewhere.
The testimony went onward. She hadn’t noticed. Behind the prosecution’s bench? Probably not, Payne would’ve said something. Behind the judge’s bench, perhaps? But wouldn’t he have said something too?
The sound of the testimony finishing made no impression on her ears. Would they really have said something in the gallery? Maybe I need to check? Or-
“Defense, you may begin your…” the judge paused. “Ms. Fey.”
“Um… yes, Your Honor?”
“What seems to be the problem?”
“I… can’t find Phoenix, Your Honor.”
“You can’t find him?”, Payne said, indignant.
“Just… just gimme a second!”
“Objection!” Payne cried, “if the defense has disappeared, then this trial is over!”
“Objection!” Mia shouted right back, “the defense requests a 15-minute recess to… uh… find the defense!”
“Your Honor, this is ridiculous!” Payne said.
The judge shook his head thoughtfully. “Sorry, Mr. Payne, but the defense has proven its capability thus far. I’m inclined to give him a chance to return to the bench.”
“Urk!”
“This court will take a 15-minute recess for Ms. Fey to find the defense and bring him back to the bench.”
Mia breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Your Honor,” she said, sounding more surprised than she’d hoped to.
“And if,” he continued, gruffly, “he is not found in that time, I will be forced to rule in favor of the prosecution.”
“I… I understand, Your Honor.”
“Then, court is adjourned for a 15-minute recess!”
…
…
Mia could’ve sworn she saw it happen in slow motion.
In retrospect, she wasn’t sure why she paid so much attention to the judge’s actions at that moment. They were rarely out of the ordinary, and they certainly weren’t now. And yet she watched anyway.
She watched, thoughtlessly, as the judge picked up his gavel.
She watched, thoughtlessly, as the judge raised it high.
She watched, helplessly, as the flash of a small ball of fur jumped toward his hand.
And she watched as the gavel slammed down on Phoenix Wright the hamster.