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I started Turnabout Lockdown in 2009 and finished it in 2010. It was written as a reply to a prompt on the Phoenix Wright Kink Meme that simply asked for “The court-room” – for fic in which one of the attorneys solved a case in the same manner as the games.

This story is very much a product of the Kink Meme and of the time it was written. Back then we weren’t sure if we’d ever get a sequel to Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney. Some of us were convinced that it was off the table completely, given that the next Ace Attorney game starred Miles Edgeworth. Fics addressing the dangling plot threads left by Apollo Justice - such as Apollo and Trucy not knowing they were related, Klavier’s inhuman calmness in the wake of his brother’s evil deeds, Phoenix ending the game still disbarred – were in plentiful supply. So were fics featuring “AJ!” versions of characters from the Phoenix Wright trilogy. Godot was still the fandom darling, with many authors giving him an “all is forgiven!” happy ending, and Kristoph was the latest Big Bad, with plenty of speculation as to what those black Psyche-Locks could be hiding.

Well, it’s been seven years since then. We’ve had two more games in the main series, two spin-off series, and a crossover (two if you count Marvel vs. Capcom), not to mention stage shows, a live action movie, drama CDS, manga and an anime series. A number of things in this fic have now been contradicted by canon. Phoenix has his badge back and started shaving again, Apollo and Trucy still don’t know they’re siblings, and Klavier still deals far, far too well with losing people close to him. But megane!Edgeworth is canon, he’s still as smug as ever, and the Judge is still a mad old man who treats trials like they’re being staged solely for his entertainment. I’ve thought about “remastering” this fic – nothing important would be lost by bringing it in line with the later canon – but I’d rather let it remain in the time when it was written. It is the first fic I’ve written in any fandom that follows the same structure as the canon source material and to this day I am very proud of it.

Please enjoy once again, for the Kink Meme’s 10^th Anniversary, Turnabout Lockdown.

Chapter Text

May 17

State Penitentiary

12.20 AM

The deafening shrill of the fire alarm couldn’t drown out the coughing and cries for help of the men housed on A Wing. Choking black smoke billowed up the staircase at the end of the corridor. The fire itself remained unseen but not unheard – an ominous roaring noise coming from the laundry room. Bars rattled as some of the inmates desperately tried to force the cell doors open. From one of the cells closest to the inferno came the sounds of a struggle.

“What the hell are you doing? …Don’t! You’ll choke –”

“Let go of me!”

*CRACK*

*BANG*

May 17

Wright Anything Agency

11.30 AM

“Wright Anything Agency, Phoenix Wright speaking.” The former defence attorney flipped to a clean page in the notebook next to him and picked up a pen. “How may I direct your call?”

He abandoned the pen on hearing the voice on the other end of the line. “Oh, hi, Maya.” He frowned. “Is everything all right?”

“Nick…” Phoenix heard her sniffle and a cold feeling of dread washed over him. “…Mr. Armando’s dead.”

He didn’t press her for details, just waited until she was ready to continue.

“There was a fire at the prison last night, but…but that’s not how he died. They – they said another prisoner killed him.” Maya sniffled again over the line. “Nick, I – I have to go and…and pick up the…”

Phoenix nodded instinctively. “Maya, don’t go anywhere. I’ll hire a car and come pick you up.” He wasn’t sure what he’d hire it with, but he’d scrape the money together somehow. There was no way he was letting Maya take a train when she was this upset, let alone go look at Armando’s body by herself. “Okay?”

“Thanks, Nick,” Maya replied, and Phoenix could picture her tearful smile. There was a pause on the line before she said softly, “I visited him just last week…”

“Maya, I’ll be there soon, okay?” Phoenix assured her. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll call you back in just a little while.”

“Okay, Nick. Talk to you soon.”

Phoenix let Maya hang up first, then replaced the receiver and reached under the desk for the phone book. He flipped to the section on rental cars and was about to pick up the phone when it rang again.

“Wright Anything Agency, Phoenix Wright speaking,” he said, hunting for his notebook. “How may I direct your call?”

“…Herr Wright.”

Phoenix frowned. “Prosecutor Gavin?”

“J…Ja. I was hoping to speak with Herr For- Herr Justice. My…brother wants to see him.”

Instantly Phoenix was on the alert. Whatever Kristoph Gavin wanted with Apollo, it couldn’t be good. “What for?” he asked.

There was a pause on the line. “Herr Wright, my brother is being charged with murder. They say he killed his cellmate last night…during a fire.”

Phoenix closed his eyes briefly. “Did they tell you the victim’s name?”

“Of course not,” Klavier replied snappishly. Phoenix let it go, and waited. Klavier sighed. “My apologies, Herr Wright. I just…I can’t believe Kristoph would have the balls to do this, and then ask Herr Justice to defend him.”

“So you think he did it?” Phoenix asked.

“Of course he did it,” Klavier said wearily. “Forget I called, Herr Wright. Let the public defender deal with him.”

“I’d prefer to let Apollo make up his own mind,” Phoenix answered. “Where is Kristoph now?”

“The State Penitentiary, in the hospital wing,” Klavier replied. “He’s being treated for smoke inhalation.”

“Okay,” Phoenix answered. “Where are you?”

There was a pause on the line.

“With him.” Phoenix heard what sounded like a sigh, and imagined Klavier looking away, playing nervously with his bangs. “Even after everything that’s happened…he’s still my brother.”

“Apollo will meet you there in a couple of hours,” Phoenix promised.

“Ja. Thank you,” Klavier replied shortly, and hung up.

Phoenix leaned back in his chair and blew out a breath. He was almost certain that the man Kristoph Gavin was accused of killing was Diego Armando…and already one or two things about that scenario didn’t make sense. He grabbed the notebook and began to jot down a plan.

“No!”

Apollo and Trucy entered the Wright Anything Agency office, back from the mid-morning day-old donut run. “There is absolutely no way you’re strapping me to a wheel and throwing knives at me!”

Trucy pouted and went to zap the slightly stale donuts in the tiny microwave. “You’re no fun.” She smiled as Phoenix emerged from the back room with a determined look on his face. “I guess I’ll have to ask Daddy.”

Phoenix paused in his tracks and glanced at her in confusion. “What?”

Apollo frowned at him. “Is something wrong, Mr. Wright?”

Phoenix stared at him for a couple of seconds, then recovered his train of thought.

“Apollo, I need you to meet Klavier Gavin at the State Penitentiary,” he said. “Trucy, go with him.”

“Right now?” Trucy asked in disappointment, taking the now warm donuts out of the microwave. Phoenix grabbed one from the plate she was holding.

“Have your donuts first,” he clarified. “Just be there by…” He glanced at his cheap watch, checked the slightly broken office clock, and made a guesstimate. “…one thirty. I’ll see both of you there. Right now I have to go to Kurain.”

“Kurain?” Apollo asked. “What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain later,” Phoenix answered. “Trucy, I need to dip into the emergency fund.”

“Sure thing!” Trucy whipped off her hat, held it upside-down in front of her, and waved her hand over it. “Alakazam!”

She reached into the hat and handed a familiar-looking leather wallet to Phoenix. Apollo quickly patted his pockets and let out a yell of indignation.

“Hey – that’s mine!”

“Sorry, Apollo,” Phoenix replied, relieving the wallet of most of its contents. “I’ll make it up to you.” He tossed the wallet to the young attorney and darted out the door.

Apollo grimly thumbed through what was left of his money – just enough for train fare for both of them, if they lied and said that Trucy was a tall twelve-year-old. He directed a glare at Trucy, who wilted.

“Sorry,” she mumbled through a mouthful of cake-y goodness.

Apollo heaved a sigh and reached for the last donut. Times like this almost made him wish he were still an only child.

Phoenix was relieved that driving to Kurain didn’t involve anything more difficult than following the highway and watching out for the signposts. On the other hand, a more complicated route would require more concentration. As it was, he had an uncomfortable amount of time to think – especially since the radio in his rental car didn’t work.

The return of the jurist system meant the anti-death penalty groups got one of their old arguments back. It was one thing to send a man to his death based on hard evidence, they said, but on the word of six strangers? There was such potential for the ordinary bias and prejudice that went with being human to play a role; what if an innocent person was convicted and executed? Eventually they got their way, and the death penalty was outlawed. Every convict then on death row had his or her sentence commuted to life imprisonment, which in most cases amounted to thirty years. That included Kristoph Gavin.

Diego Armando had been spared the death penalty at his trial eight years ago. Now it seemed that someone had carried out the sentence anyway. And the story was that that someone was Kristoph.

Except it just didn’t ring true.

He reached the outskirts of Kurain and found a safe place to park the car. Phoenix made his way into the village, smiling a little at the familiar streets and buildings. It suddenly hit him what a strain the last eight years had been; raising a little girl on a shoestring budget, playing at being a bum so the psychopath who set him up wouldn’t suspect anything, trying to uncover the truth with the ghosts of Mia and Gregory Edgeworth as stark reminders of how badly it could go wrong. Tears pricked Phoenix’s eyes and he wiped them away. Maya needed him, and he was glad she felt she could still pick up the phone and call him after all this time. These weren’t ideal circumstances for a reunion, but he vowed to rebuild the connection he’d had with her, and with Pearl.

He knocked once, and found himself enveloped in a double hug. Both Maya and Pearl had been crying.

“It’s good to see you, Nick.”

Phoenix hugged them both tighter. “It’s good to see you too.”

Chapter Text

May 17

State Penitentiary Visitors’ Area

1.27 PM

Apollo was relieved to see Klavier waiting for them when they entered the visitors’ waiting area. It had taken them a while to find it, and he didn’t like the idea of having to go looking for the prosecutor.

“Herr Forehead.” A faint smile appeared on the prosecutor’s face, but there was no strength behind it. “I – I didn’t think you would come.”

Apollo frowned. “Why not?”

Klavier looked at him in confusion. “Because of everything that happened last year.” He frowned at Apollo. “Didn’t Herr Wright tell you?”

“Herr Wright doesn’t tell me anything,” Apollo replied in exasperation. “All he said was to meet you here.”

“Ah.” Klavier looked away and ran his fingers through his hair, a nervous smile on his face. “The meeting is with my brother, Herr Justice. With Kristoph. He wants you to defend him on a charge of murder.”

Apollo grit his teeth. He balled his shaking hands into fists. (That lousy fucking drunk…!)

“Herr Justice, I’m sorry,” Klavier started, “I thought he would have told you –”

“All right!” Apollo said, the Chords of Steel making both Trucy and Klavier flinch. “Why not, huh?” He flung his arms out dramatically. “I came all this way, spent the last of my money on train fare – might as well talk to him!” He could feel himself going red in the face, but he couldn’t calm down. “I love your Daddy, Truce, you know that? Sending us on a mystery tour to see a double murderer, so we can listen to his ridiculous lies about how he totally didn’t go for the hat trick. What a fun family day out! Oh, except he isn’t here. Probably went to the store to get more ‘grape juice’” he added air quotes, “with my money –”

Trucy slapped him.

“Forehead, you’re making a scene,” Klavier added sternly.

Apollo ran a hand through his hair and scowled, cheeks stinging from the slap and embarrassment.

“Sorry,” he muttered. His shoulders slumped in defeat and he waved a hand at Klavier without looking up. “Go on – take me to him.”

Klavier nodded. “Follow me.” He turned and headed for the door.

“Don’t ever say anything like that about Daddy ever again,” Trucy hissed as they trailed after the prosecutor. Apollo grunted in response. He was annoyed by the situation he was in, and he was annoyed that they wouldn’t just let him be annoyed. Okay, that was the wrong time and place for him to voice that annoyance, but still. A lot of things had happened to him over the past year, and it really bugged him that Wright still thought it was just fine to keep him in the dark and push him around like a chess piece. Especially since they were supposed to be just one big family now. He’d feel a lot more like Trucy’s brother if her ‘daddy’ quit messing with him.

They arrived at the prison’s hospital wing.

“They’re with me,” Klavier told the guards, flashing his prosecutor’s badge. It was housed in a smart leather wallet, with a laminated ID card bearing Klavier’s name and photograph. Apollo felt a twinge of envy. Now that was ID.

“This is it,” Klavier said as they stopped beside an open door. Apollo gazed into the ward and saw a number of prisoners lying in the beds, including one Daryan Crescend. Kristoph lay in the bed at the very end of the room, furthest from the door.

Apollo took a deep breath and let it out.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll go and hear him out. Trucy, you stay out here with Prosecutor Gavin.”

“But –”

“Wait here,” Apollo interrupted firmly. “I’ll be fine.”

As he turned and entered the room, Trucy defiantly moved to follow him, but a pair of large, slender-fingered hands descended on her shoulders, gently holding her back.

“Let it go, fraulein,” Klavier murmured. He looked down at her, a faint, wistful smile on his face. “He’s just being your big brother.”

Chapter Text

May 17

Prison Morgue

1.30 PM

“Thanks for coming, Nick.”

Maya squeezed his hand in gratitude, and Phoenix squeezed it back with a smile. Neither woman had said a word in the car, except to compliment him on his recently acquired moustache and beard. It was almost a relief to finally be here.

They’d been shown to some hard, plastic chairs just outside the morgue and instructed to wait. Phoenix could just about see through the small, plexiglass window in the top half of the door, through to the metal freezers within.

One of those cold metal drawers housed the body of Diego Armando.

“I can’t believe Mr. Diego’s gone,” Pearl murmured.

“You both got pretty close to him, huh,” Phoenix remarked. Maya had been visiting Armando every month since he went to prison, and Pearl had begun to go with her when she was old enough.

“He didn’t have any family,” Maya replied. “Some cousins, in the old country, but they’re much older than him and he hasn’t…hadn’t seen them in years.” She clenched her fists in her lap, squeezing her robe between her fingers. “I – I guess we…were…”

Phoenix put one arm around Pearl’s waist and the other around Maya’s shoulders.

“Fey family?”

The trio looked up. A gruff-looking man with pepper-and-salt hair, wearing green scrubs, was standing in the doorway.

Maya stood up. “Yes. Yes, that’s us.”

“This way, please,” the man said tersely.

As they followed him inside the morgue, Pearl leaned into Phoenix and whispered, “Mr. Nick – his nametag says ‘Doctor Death’!”

“De Áth.” Phoenix and Pearl looked up, startled. “I am Doctor de Áth,” the man reiterated.

“It’s an…appropriate name for a mortician,” Phoenix replied.

Dr. de Áth gave Phoenix a withering look.

“I am the Chief Medical Officer for this facility, sir,” he said. He led them over to the freezers, picking up a clipboard on the way. “Diego…Armando.” De Áth stopped at the right drawer, and looked at Maya and Phoenix. “This…isn’t pleasant at the best of times,” he warned. He glanced at Pearl and suggested, “Perhaps the young lady should wait outside.”

“N-no,” Pearl replied, rolling one sleeve up in determination. “I want to see him.”

“Very well,” Dr. de Áth remarked with a slight shake of his head. He opened the drawer and slowly drew the slab out.

Phoenix swallowed and felt Pearl squeeze his arm. Maya laced her fingers through his. Armando’s body was covered by a sheet, but a few locks of his white hair stuck out at the edge of it…and Phoenix noticed that one of them had a yellowish tinge near the root, where not all the blood had washed off.

Dr. de Áth leaned over the body, gloved fingers grasping the top edge of the sheet. He looked at Maya, who nodded. The doctor drew the sheet back, folding it over Armando’s chest.

Pearl drew in a breath sharply and moved closer to Phoenix. Maya brought her free hand up to her mouth.

Armando’s tanned skin had a slightly greenish tinge to it. There was extensive bruising around his eyes. Combined with the scar from that awful case so long ago, it gave a tortured cast to his face. (No peace even in death,) Phoenix thought suddenly. Maya had let go of his hand at some point, and he took the opportunity to pull off his woolly hat.

“What happened to him?” Maya asked softly.

“Blunt force trauma to the back of the head,” de Áth answered. “He would have lost consciousness almost immediately, and died soon afterwards.”

“At least he didn’t suffer,” Pearl said, wiping her eyes roughly with her fingers. Maya stepped around Phoenix and pulled the younger woman into her arms.

Phoenix moved away from the women, waving for the doctor to join him. Dr. de Áth came closer, and Phoenix lowered his voice. “How did it happen?”

“I can’t be sure,” de Áth answered, “but judging from the position the body was in when found, skin under the fingernails, and defensive wounds to the arms, it’s likely there was some kind of struggle.” He looked at the body. “It’s probable he was murdered.”

Phoenix nodded. Dr. de Áth raised his voice a little and addressed Maya and Pearl.

“The autopsy was completed this morning, so we can release him into your custody for burial,” he said, gently folding the sheet back over Armando’s face.

“We – we haven’t made any arrangements yet,” Maya replied. “We just found out a few hours ago…”

“We can store him here for a few days,” the doctor assured her. He pushed the slab back into the freezer. “There are some forms you need to sign.”

“Okay,” Maya agreed. “Show me.”

Dr. de Áth escorted Maya to the small office in the far corner of the morgue, with Pearl following. Phoenix lingered, gazing at the drawer that housed the earthly remains of Diego Armando. The lawyerly part of his brain was whispering “Objection!” to the speed of the autopsy, the swiftness of the charges laid against Gavin, the fact that Maya had been told Armando was murdered when the doctor couldn’t give a definite answer. He would have to think about all that later, and make sure Apollo picked up on it too. But not now.

The story of the man who called himself Godot had begun with the trial of a convicted murderer, and, it seemed, that was how it would end – a tragic coda to a wasted, ruined life. Phoenix owed it to the broken body in there to make sure the truth came out.

(I’m so sorry, Armando. I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you.)

Chapter Text

May 17

Hospital Wing Ward 3

1.35 PM

Even in a hospital gown, with tubes up his nose and one wrist in plaster, Kristoph Gavin managed to look as immaculately groomed as he had in his crisp indigo suit.

“Ah, Justice. It’s good to see you again.”

(Wish I could say the same.) Apollo pulled up a chair and took a seat next to Kristoph’s bed.

“So, you’re being accused of murder,” he remarked.

Kristoph nodded. “Well, technically, I haven’t been formally charged just yet,” he replied. At Apollo’s frown, he explained, “But the warden assures me I will be.”

“And you want me to represent you,” Apollo continued, biting back a remark about what colossal brass balls his former mentor had, asking him to defend him like nothing had happened. “What makes you think I’ll say yes?”

Kristoph smiled, and it sent a chill down Apollo’s spine.

“I’ve thought of what I could say to persuade you to take my case,” he replied. “You’ll be paid handsomely, of course, though I doubt the money matters to you.” He lifted his hand to push his glasses up, and dropped it with a wry smirk when he remembered he wasn’t wearing them. “Favour for your old teacher?” He saw the look on Apollo’s face and closed his eyes briefly. “No, I thought not.”

Apollo sat and waited, more out of morbid curiosity than anything else.

“I suppose,” Kristoph continued, “the only thing I can appeal to is your innate sense of…justice.” He shifted a little on his pillow, wincing as he did so. “I didn’t kill that man.”

 (Yeah, like you didn’t kill Zak Gramarye and Drew Misham.) “Why did you really ask for me?” Apollo asked. “There’s got to be plenty of other defence attorneys who’d take this case, and even if you couldn’t find one, you’d have been assigned a public defender.”

Kristoph rested his hands on his stomach, cradling his broken wrist gently in his good hand.

“I want a good attorney,” he replied. “One who cares about the truth and who won’t allow his judgement to be clouded by his own prejudice…” He looked past Apollo, to the door of the ward. “…the kind of lawyer my brother used to be.”

“Prosecutor Gavin thinks you did it?” Apollo asked.

Kristoph made a small sound of disgust.

“Everyone thinks I did it,” he answered. “Even you.”

Apollo felt a faint blush creeping up the back of his neck. “Well, you did kill two people.”

“That’s true,” Kristoph replied. Apollo looked at him, shocked to hear him actually admit it. “I am serving a thirty year sentence for those crimes. I will not be paroled and I will not get time off for good behaviour.” He gazed at Apollo with a serene smile that gave the young attorney the creeps. “I have accepted that. I will be sixty-three when they let me out, but the Gavin men are quite long-lived…and in the meantime I have made arrangements to make my stay here as bearable as possible.”

(And when, exactly, did I ask for your life story?) “Well…good for you, I guess,” Apollo remarked.

Kristoph again attempted to adjust his non-existent glasses. “Justice, if I’m found guilty of this murder, they will add time to my sentence and I will be stripped of all the privileges I’ve worked so hard to earn,” he said wearily. “Surely not even I deserve to be punished for something I haven’t done?”

Apollo shifted awkwardly and rubbed at the back of his neck. He hated to admit it, but Kristoph had him there.

“Well, before I can take your case, I need to know what you’re alleged to have done,” he said reluctantly.

Kristoph smiled, and Apollo’s nervousness increased.

“Shortly after midnight a fire broke out in A Wing, which is where they house the…lifers,” he explained. “I, like most of my neighbours, succumbed to the choking black smoke and passed out in my bunk. When I came round, I was here…and was informed that my cellmate, Diego Armando, had been found with the back of his head caved in.” He lowered his gaze, picking idly at the blanket with his good hand. “I was further informed that I had killed him.”

Apollo rubbed his chin. “Armando died while in the cell with you?”

Kristoph threw him a withering look. “Naturally. It was after lockdown. Every prisoner was in his cell.”

“So, you’re the only possible suspect,” Apollo observed.

“That’s certainly what the prison authorities think,” Kristoph answered.

“Uh-huh,” Apollo replied. His legal experience told him he shouldn’t jump to conclusions, especially when he’d only talked to one witness, but this did look a lot like an open-and-shut case. “What do you say happened?”

“I don’t know,” Kristoph answered. “Perhaps the firemen were clumsy and dropped him when they were moving him out of the cell. Perhaps Armando chose a particularly messy way to commit suicide. All I do know is that I didn’t kill him.” He smirked briefly. “Though quite honestly, however he died, it was a merciful release.”

Apollo winced. “I wouldn’t say that out loud, if I were you.”

“Believe me, Justice,” Kristoph replied, “if you had heard him rattling in his bunk every night, you’d agree.”

Apollo frowned. “Rattling?”

“Parkinson tremors,” Kristoph explained. “Armando suffered from progressive nerve damage.” He went a shade paler, and turned his head away. “He was…very badly poisoned, you see.”

(And wound up sharing a cell with a poisoner.) Apollo ran a hand through his hair.

“I need to think about it before I take your case, Mr. Gavin,” he said.

Kristoph nodded. “Yes, I understand,” he replied. “As I said, I have yet to be formally charged, so your services are not immediately required. However, if you could reach a decision promptly…”

Apollo nodded. “I’ll let you know by tomorrow,” he promised.

“Thank you,” Kristoph said. “Would you ask Klavier to come back inside, Mr. Justice? There are things I need to talk to him about.”

“Sure,” Apollo replied, standing up to leave. He was about to turn and head for the door, when he paused. “By the way…what happened to your wrist?”

Something flitted across Kristoph’s face, and Apollo felt the faintest vibration from his bracelet.

“I don’t know.”

Apollo gazed at him long and hard, but couldn’t pick up anything concrete.

“Okay,” he said at last. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Kristoph lay back against his pillows and closed his eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Justice.”

Apollo turned and walked toward the door, silently cursing Phoenix Wright for getting him into this mess.

Chapter Text

May 17

Hospital Wing Corridor

1.45 PM

Trucy was sitting on a chair, swinging her legs idly while Klavier hovered by a nearby window. Both looked in Apollo’s direction as he approached, and Trucy stood up.

“So…are you going to take the case?” she asked.

Apollo looked at her, then at Klavier, and took a deep breath and let it out.

“I gotta think about it,” he admitted. He turned to Klavier. “He – he wants to talk to you.”

Klavier nodded and disappeared into the ward.

Apollo looked back at Trucy, about to discuss their next move, when he heard frantic footsteps coming down the corridor.

“Oh, not you too!”

Both Apollo and Trucy turned to see a flustered and aggravated Ema Skye jogging towards them. The annoyed expression on her face made Apollo glad that her ubiquitous bag of Snackoos was nowhere in sight.

“Who have you been talking to?!” she demanded.

“N-no-one!” Apollo insisted. “Just Kristoph Gavin –” Ema clapped a hand over her eyes and he quickly amended, “ – he asked me to be his attorney!”

Ema pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation and took a deep, calming breath.

“All right,” she said. “Don’t talk to anyone, don’t look at anything, don’t touch anything…” She directed a steely glare at Trucy. “…don’t make any evidence disappear and then reappear in court later on. Got it?”

Apollo winced as the bag of Snackoos finally made an appearance.

“Is something the matter, Detective Skye?” Trucy asked.

Ema heaved an impatient sigh and crammed a handful of Snackoos in her mouth.

“*MUNCH*MUNCH*MUNCH*MUNCH* Everyone’s jumping the gun today,” she explained. “The prison authorities, the suspect, you two…” She put the Snackoos away. “We haven’t even finished our investigation yet, let alone charged anyone with the murder.” She glared at both of them. “So, everything is off-limits till we finish and a prosecutor is assigned to the case. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Trucy replied brightly. She discreetly elbowed Apollo in the ribs.

“Oof! Sure,” Apollo said.

“Good,” Ema replied testily. “I’ve got to go take Gavin’s statement. Remember what I said.”

The detective entered the ward, leaving Trucy and Apollo in the corridor. Apollo frowned, idly rubbing his sore ribs as he pondered what Ema had said. It seemed like someone was in a big rush to get this case wrapped up.

His train of thought was disrupted when Trucy turned and exclaimed, “Daddy!”

Apollo looked down the corridor and saw Phoenix approaching. Behind him were two women, one about Trucy’s age, that he vaguely recognised from photographs in the office. The youngest was visibly upset and the older woman was comforting her.

“Hey, Truce.”

Phoenix hugged Trucy a little tighter and longer than he usually did, especially now that, at sixteen, she was nearly too old for such public displays of affection. Looking over his daughter’s top hat, he saw Apollo’s expression harden. “Maya and Pearls are going for some…” He glanced over his shoulder at the Feys, and lowered his voice a little. “…some coffee. Tag along, will you? I gotta talk to your brother.”

“Okay,” Trucy said, a little uncertainly. “See you later.”

Apollo glared at his boss, clenching and unclenching his fists as the former attorney watched the three girls leave the hospital wing. Seeing Phoenix reminded him that he’d been tricked into coming here, and now he felt angry all over again.

Phoenix turned to look at Apollo, his hands in the pocket of his scruffy hoodie, a faint grin on his face.

“So, did you talk to-”

“You should’ve asked me,” Apollo interrupted coldly.

Phoenix shrugged and ducked his head slightly, hiding under his hat.

“You would’ve said no,” he replied matter-of-factly. Ignoring Apollo running his fingers through his hair in exasperation, Phoenix continued, “What did Gavin say?”

Apollo sighed and dropped his hands.

“Not much,” he answered. “Just that he succumbed to smoke inhalation in his bunk, and when he woke up in the hospital they told him Armando was dead and that he was the only suspect.”

“Hmm.” Phoenix rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “It’ll be tough to build a defence based on his story…”

Apollo stared at him. “What makes you think I’m taking this case?!” he exclaimed.

“Because that’s why you’re here,” Phoenix answered.

Apollo shook his head. “No. No no.” He gestured with his arms for emphasis. “You can’t do this –”

“Apollo, you’re taking this case,” Phoenix interrupted forcefully. “I’m the boss, it’s done. End of discussion.”

Apollo shook with rage.

“Objection!”

Phoenix flinched at the Chords of Steel.

“Ever since we met you’ve done nothing but treat me like a pawn!” Apollo continued. He knew his face was turning fire-engine red but he couldn’t help it. “You slip me –” he lowered his voice, “forged evidence in my first trial, you rope me into your vendetta with Gavin, and now you want me to defend him in an unwinnable case…why?”

Phoenix looked off to his left and stubbornly stayed silent.

Apollo just barely restrained himself from throttling the older man. “Don’t – don’t do that!” he hissed through clenched teeth. He took a deep breath and let it out, trying to calm down. “Look, I’m sorry you lost your badge –” Phoenix looked up sharply, his expression somewhere between stunned and angry. “- but you can’t have a legal career vicariously through me.” Apollo shoved his hands in his pockets. His anger was waning, and embarrassment was taking over. “You can’t just order me to… well, okay, you can. But it isn’t fair.”

An awkward silence descended on the corridor. Apollo shuffled his feet a little and turned away, looking at the floor. He was trying to find a way of saying, “I shouldn’t have said that” without taking back his point about being treated unfairly, when Phoenix spoke.

“You’re right.”

Apollo looked up at him in surprise. Phoenix came closer, pulling off his hat and squeezing it in his hands.

“You deserve to know why you’re really here,” Phoenix said quietly. “The truth is I knew the victim. The truth is he was here because of me.” He took a deep breath and let it out, suddenly realising how much Armando’s death had affected him. Phoenix took a moment to get a grip, determined to look at the younger man with dry eyes. “Apollo, I want you on this case because I think it’s the only way anyone will ever know what really happened to Diego Armando.”

Apollo gave Phoenix a long, long look. Obviously the older man had picked up on the same things he had.

“Seems pretty open and shut to me,” Apollo remarked guardedly.

Phoenix nodded. “It sure does, doesn’t it?” He put his hat back on. “It’s up to you, Apollo. Just – sleep on it, okay? Don’t make up your mind just yet.”

“Okay,” Apollo replied, a bit stunned that his outburst had yielded such results. He began to blush again. “Um…I’m sorry I got so mad back there,” he mumbled shamefacedly.

“Forget about it,” Phoenix replied. He smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck. “I did mess you around last year, and... well, I had reasons, but that doesn’t change how I made you feel.” He clapped Apollo gently on the shoulder. “Come on, I’ll buy you a coffee.”

(Yeah, with my money.)

“Yeah, with your money.”

Apollo did a double take.

“How did you –”

“Hey, you’re not the first sarcastic attorney to think things he’d never say,” Phoenix chuckled. He started up the corridor and Apollo followed.

“Don’t make a habit of that, okay? …seriously, that was creepy.”

Chapter Text

May 17

Java Palace

2.17 PM

Maya breathed in the scent from her cup of coffee, then raised it slightly.

“Diego,” she said with a sad smile.

“Diego,” the others repeated.

Phoenix took a sip of his drink, then reached across the table and gently rested his hand on top of Maya’s. “Have you thought about…the arrangements yet?” he asked quietly.

Maya gave a small smile and shrugged her shoulders slightly.

“He – he never discussed that with me,” she replied. “What he – you know – wanted, I mean.” She gazed into her drink. “But I think he’d like to be buried with Mia.”

Phoenix nodded. “Yeah.”

“And he’d want to look nice,” Maya continued. She gave a brief laugh. “You remember how vain he was.”

Phoenix managed a smile, but it faded quickly when he remembered the state of Armando’s face, the terrible purple bruising around his eyes where the blood had pooled. He didn’t want to think about what the back of Armando’s head was like.

“We should get him a red shirt,” Pearl said. She bit her thumb. “Mr. Diego said red was his favourite colour. He always said the world seemed colder without it.”

Maya put her arm around her cousin’s shoulders and pulled her into a half-hug.

Apollo sipped his coffee in silence as Phoenix continued to talk to Maya, asking her if she needed anything and if she and Pearl wanted to stay at his place for a few days. On his other side, Trucy did her best to take Pearl’s mind off what had happened by talking about Global Studios’ latest show, The Iron Ronin. Once again Apollo felt left out of Trucy’s patchwork, extended family. He’d never met Maya or Pearl, but Trucy knew them, and both women clearly meant a lot to Phoenix Wright. Apollo had a fleeting, uncharitable suspicion that Wright had brought him here in the hope that seeing the grieving ‘relatives’ would influence him to take the case.

Apollo glanced up at Maya and Pearl before returning his gaze to the liquid darkness in his cup. They did deserve to know the truth; whatever Diego Armando had done to end up in prison, it was obvious that they hadn’t stopped caring about him. Apollo wrapped his fingers around his cup. He wished he had more to go on than the word of the prime suspect. Two men in a locked cell, one found dead. No-one else could get in or out. It reminded him a lot of the Misham case, although he didn’t think the murder weapon would turn out to be a seven-year-old poisoned stamp this time…

Apollo frowned.

“Motive.”

Trucy looked at him. “Did you say something, Polly?”

“Uh – no!” Apollo answered quickly. “Just…thinking out loud, that’s all.”

Phoenix smiled into his drink. It looked like he didn’t need to nudge Apollo in the right direction after all.

May 17

Wright Anything Agency

6.40 PM

Phoenix closed the front door of the Wright Anything Agency behind him with a quiet sigh. Maya and Pearl had declined his offer to stay at his place. They’d managed to find a hotel near the prison that wasn’t too expensive or too much of a fleapit, and planned to spend that night, at least, near Armando. They’d probably go back and forth between Kurain and the city over the next few days while they made funeral arrangements, Maya told him. After he got a promise from her to let him know if they needed anything, anything at all, he’d left and returned the rental car.

He entered the tiny office and saw Apollo sitting at the desk, resting his chin in one hand and tapping a pen on a block of writing paper with the other. The young attorney looked up as the door clicked shut.

Both men gazed at each other for a few minutes, then Apollo sat up, running his hand over his face.

“I guess…I’m taking this case,” Apollo remarked with a sheepish smile. He laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back in the chair. “I’ve got no idea what really happened, but…there are definitely some questions that need answering.”

Phoenix smiled back, putting his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. “That’s what I thought, too.”

Apollo stretched in the chair, his expression growing serious.

“Mr. Wright…what did Armando do, exactly?”

Phoenix looked away, allowing his hat to obscure his expression, and smirked briefly.

“I was worried you might ask that,” he replied. He crossed the room and began to search the bookshelf next to the desk. “Here we go...” Apollo blanched as Phoenix dumped two large box files on the desk in front of him. “…a little bedtime reading for you.”

(A simple “He committed X” would’ve been enough.) “Th-thanks,” Apollo managed.

Phoenix smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “Go get Trucy,” he said, “and we’ll grab some dinner, huh?”

Apollo nodded and scooted out from behind the desk. He left the office, and Phoenix took the opportunity to look at Apollo’s notes. Before he could read beyond the word “MOTIVE”, underlined at the top of the page, the phone rang.

“Wright Anything Agency, Phoenix Wright speaking,” he said.

“Detective Skye here,” said the woman on the other end of the line. “Just thought you’d like to know that they’ve assigned a prosecutor to the Gavin case.”

“Uh-huh,” Phoenix replied, looking for a pen. “Winston Payne?”

“No, a visiting prosecutor,” Ema replied, a smirk creeping into her voice. “Some big shot from overseas, very interested in the new Jurist System. Seems they’re giving him this case because they expect it to be pretty simple.”

“Uh-huh,” Phoenix murmured absently. “Overseas…big…shot…”

“And because he used to work in our jurisdiction.”

Phoenix paused, pen pressing into the paper.

“Ema…”

“He should be down at the courthouse tomorrow morning, observing a trial,” Ema went on, and Phoenix could picture her with her arms folded and her head tilted slightly to the side, that knowing ‘I’m not telling you, hotshot, figure it out yourself’ look on her face. “If you want to meet him.”

A smile crept across Phoenix’s face. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I’ll do that.”

Ema said goodbye, and hung up. Phoenix replaced the receiver in the cradle, his smile growing wider.

(Well I’ll be damned.)

Chapter Text

May 18

Courtroom No. 1

10.00 AM

Phoenix gently opened the gallery exit door and discreetly peered into the courtroom. He smiled on spotting the unmistakeable magenta suit of his childhood friend and one-time rival. Miles Edgeworth was sitting in the middle row of the gallery, diligently observing the trial below and making occasional notes in a ledger on his knee. To Phoenix’s surprise and amusement, the prosecutor wore a pair of stylish, slim-framed glasses.

The crack of the gavel rang out as the judge adjourned the court for the day. Phoenix stepped back from the door as the spectators began to file out.

“Miles!”

The prosecutor looked up from his notes in surprise. A warm smile appeared on his face when he saw who had spoken.

“Wright.” Edgeworth walked towards his old friend and adversary, extending a hand, and was pleasantly surprised when Phoenix took it and pulled him into a warm hug.

“It’s good to see you again, Miles,” Phoenix murmured. He released his hold on the other man and stepped back a little. It really had been too long, and for a moment Phoenix felt a little pang of disappointment that Apollo was defending Gavin and not him. It would’ve been so perfect if their first meeting after all this time had been across the courtroom.

Edgeworth quirked an eyebrow at the use of his first name. “You too, Wright.” He smirked. “I see you finally made up your mind about whether or not to grow a beard.”

Phoenix smirked back, automatically stroking the coarse, black hair on his jawline. “I like the glasses,” he remarked. “How long have you had them?”

Edgeworth ducked his head slightly and cleaned the lenses on his handkerchief.

“Oh, I’ve needed glasses since I was fourteen,” he replied casually. “I just decided to stop wearing contacts a few years ago, that’s all.”

“They suit you,” Phoenix said with a smile. He jerked a thumb at the stairwell. “Do you have time for a cup of tea and a chat?”

Edgeworth slipped his glasses back on and looked at his watch. “Yes, I think so. After all, it was somewhat remiss of me not to let you know I’d be in town.” He smirked. “Although, I have a feeling this isn’t entirely a social invitation.”

“Damn, and here I thought I had honed my poker face to perfection,” Phoenix joked. He patted Edgeworth on the back. “Shall we?”

May 18

Courthouse Cafeteria

10.12 PM

The cafeteria was filling up fast as the morning’s court cases were adjourned. Attorneys, prosecutors, witnesses, police officers and bailiffs all lined up at the counter for something to combat the mid-morning munchies.

“Earl Grey, please,” Edgeworth said to the barista.

“Coffee,” Phoenix added, “black, no sugar.”

“Too early for grape juice?” Edgeworth asked wryly.

Phoenix groaned. “Don’t start that again.”

They moved to the cash register, where Edgeworth insisted on paying for both drinks. The two men made their way over to a vacant table in the corner where they wouldn’t be disturbed.

“You’re looking well, Wright,” Edgeworth remarked. He blew on his drink and took a sip. “Though I can’t say I care for your wardrobe. How’s Trucy?”

Phoenix shrugged and gave a grin. “Starting to show an interest in boys,” he replied. “And adjusting very well to having a new mommy and a new big brother.” He let out a breath, his expression sobering. “Which is a huge relief. She’s had so much upheaval in her life already.”

“Sounds like you’re coping well with fatherhood,” Edgeworth replied. He frowned a little, looking at the tabletop. “Wright, I’m sorry that I said –”

“Forget about it, Miles,” Phoenix assured him, waving it away. “That was years ago, it’s water under the bridge.” He had a mouthful of coffee. “How’s Franziska?”

Edgeworth smirked. “Still as wild as ever,” he answered. He tapped a finger on the tabletop. “Well…maybe she has matured a little. I think she’s finally come to terms with her father’s legacy.” He looked up at Phoenix. “And she’s started to care more about seeing justice done than increasing her win count.”

“That’s good to hear,” Phoenix replied with a smile.

The men passed the next couple of minutes in silence, savouring their drinks, before Phoenix remarked, “So, I hear you’re prosecuting the Gavin case.”

Edgeworth rolled his eyes. “Wright, you know I can’t discuss that with you.”

“Why?” Phoenix asked with a smirk. “I’m not his attorney.”

“No,” Edgeworth conceded, “but Detective Skye tells me your pupil Justice is.” He sipped his tea. “Anything I say to you will undoubtedly get back to him.”

Phoenix chuckled. “Undoubtedly.” He had a mouthful of coffee. “So…the Prosecutors’ Office must think it has a pretty strong case if they’re assigning it to someone who’s just here on a flying visit.”

“Nice try, Wright,” Edgeworth countered, “but you’re wasting your time. I haven’t even been to the crime scene yet. I know as much about this case as you do.” He cleaned his glasses again. “By the way – don’t think me rude, but why haven’t you retaken the bar exam? I’d have thought getting your badge back would be your top priority once you’d cleared your name.”

Phoenix’s expression grew thoughtful.

“You know, when I started investigating where that piece of evidence had come from, that’s what I thought too,” he replied. “But when I started to suspect just who set me up, and what kind of person he was…when I forced myself to consider what lengths he was prepared to go to…” Phoenix took his hat off and ran his hand through his messy, dark hair. “I played at being a washed up drunk all this time to keep Gavin off the scent, because if anything happened to me, Trucy would be all alone.” He shook his head slightly. “And he would’ve killed me, Miles. If he’d thought for a second…” Phoenix squeezed his hat between his fingers. “Just like Redd White killed Mia. Just like…” He glanced at Edgeworth apologetically. “…just like von Karma…”

Edgeworth nodded. “I understand,” he replied quietly. He played nervously with his napkin. “I…I wouldn’t want any child of mine to lose her father that way, either.”

Phoenix gave a sheepish grin.

“Thing is, Trucy’s sixteen now,” he continued. “And she’s got Apollo, she’s got her mom back…if some psychopath decided I was asking too many questions, she’d be all right. It’s me. I – I wanna be old Grandpa Nick in a rocking chair on the porch, teaching her kids to play poker while their Uncle Polly rolls his eyes at me.” Phoenix put his hat back on, feeling self-conscious. “I know that sounds dumb.”

Edgeworth shook his head, a wistful, faraway smile settling on his face.

“Not at all,” he said softly.

Phoenix sipped his coffee and looked around briefly.

“You think this is where it happened?” he asked quietly. “This spot here?”

It took Edgeworth a minute to realise what he meant. “Wright…”

“There should be a plaque or something,” Phoenix murmured. “Some kind of memorial.” He was growing quietly agitated and Edgeworth tentatively laid a hand on his arm. “God, Miles, she ruined his life.”

“Wright, as much as I hate to say it, you can’t put it all on Hawthorne,” Edgeworth said sternly. “Armando had a choice, and he chose to murder a woman. Maya’s mother, in fact. He didn’t have to be on that mountain that night. He had plenty of other options and I don’t care how difficult or painful it was for him to take them.”

Phoenix looked up, surprised by the vehemence creeping into the prosecutor’s voice.

“Miles…”

A faint blush crept into Edgeworth’s cheeks. “Well, he put you all in danger.” He sipped his tea. “Honestly, I don’t understand why you and Maya weren’t angry with him.”

Phoenix gazed at the table, and shrugged sadly.

“I guess…because he had nothing left,” he said. “Not even the chance to build a life for himself…because he threw it away in his quest for revenge.”

Edgeworth considered this.

“Well, you’re a more forgiving man than I,” he remarked at last. “As evinced by your bullying Justice into defending Gavin.”

Phoenix lifted an eyebrow.

“You really think that’s why I wanted Apollo on this case?” he asked.

Edgeworth smirked. “I doubt you’re planning to have Justice throw Gavin to the wolves,” he replied, “unless you’ve changed drastically since I’ve been away.”

Phoenix finished his coffee and slid his hands into the pocket of his hoodie.

“Come on, Miles,” he coaxed. “You’ve read the case file. What do you think really happened that night?”

Edgeworth frowned at him.

“Off the record?” he asked suspiciously.

Phoenix nodded. Edgeworth swallowed the last of his tea and set his cup aside.

“I think,” he replied, “that as far as Diego Armando is concerned, death was the best thing for him. Kristoph Gavin is the only possible culprit, and if he’s found guilty, loses his cushy little perks and has his sentence increased, I doubt anyone will shed any tears…not even his baby brother.” The prosecutor rose and shot Phoenix one last smirk. “None of which means I won’t be carrying out a thorough investigation,” he warned. “And I’m sure if I miss anything, Mr. Justice will bring it to my attention in court.”

Phoenix leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Count on it.”

Chapter Text

(Fourteen years ago, defence attorney Diego Armando was poisoned in the courthouse cafeteria, falling into a deep coma. The culprit was Dahlia Hawthorne, a suspect in a murder case.

Nine years ago, Armando woke from his coma. He learned that his lover, defence attorney Mia Fey, was murdered a year earlier.

Blind, weakened and alone, his only thoughts were of revenge against the person who should have prevented Mia’s death…

…her protégé, Phoenix Wright.

Armando assumed a pseudonym – Godot – and became a prosecutor in the hopes of beating Wright in the courtroom.

 Eight years ago, Armando learned of a plot to murder Mia Fey’s sister, Maya Fey. In his efforts to prevent her murder, he came face to face with the spirit of Dahlia Hawthorne, channelled by Maya’s mother, Misty Fey. Overcome with rage, he killed her.

Armando tried to cover up what he’s done, but he missed vital clues because of his poor vision. Phoenix Wright confronted him in the courtroom with proof of what really happened. Armando broke and confessed to everything in open court. He cried tears of blood, relieved that it was finally over. He was tried a week later, and received a thirty year sentence for murder.

One year ago, Kristoph Gavin received the death penalty for the murders of Shadi Enigmar, and Drew Misham. He killed both men to cover up his involvement in the trial of Shadi Enigmar seven years earlier, in which Phoenix Wright was stripped of his badge for presenting forged evidence. His sentence was later commuted to thirty years in prison.

One day ago, Diego Armando was found dead in his cell. The only suspect is his cellmate, Kristoph Gavin.

My only hope is to find out what went on during that year… during that night…)

May 18

Hospital Wing Ward 3

10.37 AM

There were two chairs next to Kristoph’s bed, and as soon as Klavier saw that Apollo had Trucy with him, he stood up and invited her to sit down. Apollo wasn’t keen on bringing Trucy along this time, but she’d insisted on coming…and she hit pretty hard.

“Ah, Mr. Justice.” Kristoph smiled faintly at the young attorney as he sat. “Do you bear good news, or bad news?”

“Well, I’ve decided to take your case,” Apollo replied. He wasn’t sure if that was good news or bad news.

“Excellent,” Kristoph replied. “Klavier, the papers, if you please.”

Obediently Klavier bent and opened his briefcase. He retrieved the necessary paperwork and handed it to his brother.

“Thank you.”

As Kristoph filled out the necessary information, Apollo took the opportunity to steal a look at Klavier. The prosecutor looked paler than usual – his tan seemed to be fading – and there were dark smudges under his eyes, as though he hadn’t been sleeping properly. It struck Apollo that he hadn’t had much contact with Klavier since the Misham case.

Kristoph pushed the papers towards Apollo, who added his signature in the spaces indicated. Kristoph handed the completed paperwork back to Klavier, and rested his hands on his stomach. Apollo’s attention was drawn to Kristoph’s broken wrist again.

“Um, I have to ask you some questions…” Apollo began. He broke off and asked, “Could – could someone draw the curtains, please?”

Klavier obliged him, silently pulling the curtain around Kristoph’s bed closed. Apollo shifted and moved his chair a little closer, running through the questions he wanted to ask in his head.

“You told me yesterday that the night of the murder, you passed out in your bunk,” he stated. “And the first you knew of the murder was when you woke up here and were informed that Armando was dead and you were the suspect.”

Kristoph nodded. “That’s correct.”

Apollo eyed him closely. “And you don’t know how you broke your wrist.”

“No,” Kristoph replied, and there it was again – the faintest vibration from Apollo’s bracelet. Apollo considered pressing further, but he didn’t have enough to go on just yet. He moved onto his next point.

“You used to be in a cell by yourself,” Apollo remarked. “Why were you given a cellmate?”

Kristoph smirked. “It seems the warden thought I was getting too comfortable on my own,” he replied. “The phrase ‘Shangri-La’ was used, if I recall correctly.”

Apollo nodded, making a mental note to talk to the warden, if possible. “So he put you with Armando. How long had you been his cellmate?”

Kristoph thought carefully. “About six weeks,” he said at last, automatically lifting his good hand to adjust his glasses.

“Okay, and did you know Armando prior to becoming his cellmate?” Apollo asked. “Had you ever spent time together…” He glanced at Kristoph. “…ever fought, anything like that?”

“No,” Kristoph replied. “I only knew Armando by sight.” He smirked. “He was difficult to miss.”

Apollo nodded – the photographs on file showed a tall, Latino man with a mane of white hair and a silver visor. Not someone who faded into the crowd.

His next question was the crucial one. “Did you and Armando get along? Did you like him?”

Kristoph gave a short, bitter laugh.

“Mr. Justice, I don’t like anyone in here,” he replied. “But since you ask…no, our relationship was not ideal. He went out of his way to irritate me.” Kristoph ran a finger down his nose. “He hogged the bottom bunk and then smoked while I was trying to sleep. He refused to turn his back when I used the toilet. He had a Parkinson tremor, a resting tremor – when it was bad, it made the bunks rattle, and then he would…” Kristoph’s lip curled in disgust. “…he would insinuate that I was - masturbating.” Kristoph picked a stray piece of fluff from his blanket and flicked it away. “He would then follow that with various lewd suggestions which I shan’t repeat in mixed company.”

Trucy rolled her eyes. “I’m not a little kid, you know.”

“So he annoyed you,” Apollo said, keen to stay on the subject. “Enough to kill him?”

Kristoph threw him a withering look.

“No,” he replied, and Apollo’s bracelet remained inert. Kristoph shifted on his pillows, wincing a little. “Let me assure you, Mr. Justice, the feeling was more than mutual. Armando voiced his contempt for me on several occasions. Apparently, he felt that I thought I was better than everyone else.” He snorted. “Ironic, considering how often he talked about how he was the only inmate with the courage to admit he belonged here.”

“That’s why he didn’t like you?” Apollo asked in surprise. Armando had lost everything because he’d been poisoned; Apollo found it hard to believe Kristoph’s modus operandi wouldn’t factor into any dislike Armando had for him. “Did he know what you’d done?”

“I don’t know,” Kristoph replied after a pause, and Apollo got a peculiar feeling – almost like the feeling he got right before he used his Perceive ability. He fixed Kristoph with a piercing stare, and on instinct, almost in a trance, he asked,

“Were you afraid of him?”

Kristoph’s answer was just as deliberate and firm.

“No.”

Apollo’s bracelet went crazy. He stared at Kristoph, about to probe further, when the older man turned his head away and stifled a yawn.

“Forgive me, Mr. Justice,” Kristoph remarked, “I was given painkillers shortly before you arrived. They seem to be taking effect.” He shot Apollo a crocodile smile, his eyes growing heavy. “If you don’t mind…”

Apollo nodded, silently cursing his luck.

“Of course,” he replied. He began to rise. “I may need to speak to you again today, if you’re up for it.”

Kristoph nodded and lifted his good hand a little in farewell. Apollo gazed at him for a moment, wondering if his former boss was genuinely sleepy, or if he was just a terrific actor. Then he turned to Trucy.

“Come on,” he said. “We should check out the crime scene.” Apollo pulled the curtains back a little and let Trucy go ahead of him. The pair headed for the exit, and a minute or two later, Klavier followed.

May 18

Hospital Wing Corridor

10.51 AM

“This is bad, isn’t it, Polly?” Trucy murmured. “Mr. Gavin had a motive to kill Mr. Armando.”

“Fraulein,” Klavier remarked wearily from behind them, “my brother doesn’t need a motive to kill.”

Apollo turned to look at the prosecutor.

“Maybe not, but why commit murder in a locked cell, where he was certain to be caught?” he asked.

Klavier just stared at him.

“Kristoph is a psychopath,” he said patiently, as if explaining to a small child. “There is no reason to anything he does.” Klavier shrugged. “Armando annoyed him, so he killed him. Nothing else.”

Apollo shook his head.

“Think about it,” he urged. “Kristoph had a backup plan for each of his other murders, a way to make sure no-one could ever suspect him.” Apollo paused, frowned, and sheepishly amended, “Okay, he slipped up on the colour of the cards and he didn’t count on Vera Misham saving the poisoned stamp for her collection, but the point is that he thought about it.” Klavier turned away, a defeated expression on his face, and Apollo reached for his arm. “What was his plan to get away with this murder?”

“You?”

Apollo pulled his hand back as Klavier looked up at him. The prosecutor played with his blond bangs, an eerie, frozen smile on his face.

“Perhaps he knew you would see a mystery where there was none,” Klavier elaborated.

Apollo swallowed, his stomach briefly going into freefall as he considered the possibility…then he pulled himself together and fixed Klavier with a hard stare.

“Just tell me one thing,” he said. “Ever known your brother to be frightened? Really, really frightened?”

Klavier gave a short, mirthless laugh.

“Forehead,” he replied, and there was no strength behind the smile on his face, “this past year showed me that I have never known my brother.”

Apollo heaved a sigh. He couldn’t argue with that. And if last year had turned his world upside down, what had it done to Klavier? At least Apollo had gained a family; Klavier had lost a friend and his brother under awful circumstances.

“Maybe we’ll know more after looking at the crime scene,” the young attorney remarked. He turned to walk up the corridor and Klavier gently tugged him back by his shirtsleeve.

“This is a prison, Herr Forehead,” the prosecutor said. “You can’t just wander around.” Klavier handed him a copy of the paperwork showing that he was Kristoph’s attorney. “Go to the warden and show him this. He will give you an escort.”

Apollo nodded and carefully folded up the paper before putting it in his pocket. “Thanks.”

Klavier sighed and patted him lightly on the shoulder. “Good luck, Herr Justice,” he said tiredly. “You’ll need it.”

He went back into the ward, leaving Trucy and Apollo gazing after him.

“Poor Prosecutor Gavin,” Trucy remarked. She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “It looks pretty bad for our client if his own brother doesn’t believe he’s innocent, though.”

“I can’t exactly blame him,” Apollo replied. “I didn’t believe our client was innocent, either – not at first.” At her questioning look, Apollo continued. “Gavin was scared of Armando, Trucy.” Apollo absently touched his bracelet, remembering how strongly it had reacted during Kristoph’s answer. “He was scared to death of him.”

Trucy nodded, seeing where he was going. “If he was so afraid, how would he get up the courage to bash his head in,” she said. She frowned. “But frightened people do find that courage sometimes…especially if they’re being picked on. I mean, it doesn’t sound like Mr. Armando was easy to get along with.”

Apollo shook his head slightly. “I don’t think that’s what happened,” he replied. “But either way, we need to find out why Gavin was so afraid of his cellmate.” Apollo nodded towards the end of the corridor. “Let’s go find the warden’s office.”

Chapter Text

May 18

Warden’s Office

11.07 AM

“Hello?”

Apollo cautiously poked his head around the wood and glass door. Two minutes of knocking hadn’t prompted a response. His shoulders slumped when he saw that the room was empty.

“No-one’s here,” he said dejectedly. “Great. Now what?”

“Cheer up, Apollo!” Trucy replied. She ducked under his arm and entered the room. “Let’s investigate this room while we’re waiting!”

“And look for what, exactly?” Apollo asked. Trucy ignored him and made a beeline for the filing cabinet. “Hey!”

“Keep a lookout!” Trucy instructed as she began to open drawers.

Apollo glanced nervously over his shoulder and then quickly slipped inside the office.

“Trucy, what are you doing?!” he hissed. “Those are official documents! You can’t just rummage through–”

“Look at this, Polly,” Trucy interrupted, handing him a few sheets of paper stapled together. “All the prisoners were moved around at the same time Mr. Gavin and Mr. Armando were put in the same cell, and most of the guards were reassigned to different wings and patrol schedules, too.”

“Hmm.” Apollo looked over the papers. “Then Gavin wasn’t being singled out when he was moved.”

“Maybe moving everyone is a regular thing around here,” Trucy suggested.

“Maybe,” Apollo replied. “I wonder how often they do it...”

He lifted his head and looked sharply at the door, ears picking up the sound of footsteps…accompanied by a soft jangling noise.

“Quick, put these back,” Apollo said, thrusting the papers at Trucy. “Someone’s coming!”

Trucy hurriedly slipped the papers back in the filing cabinet and closed the drawer. Both siblings attempted to look casual as the footsteps grew closer.

The office door opened and a tanned, dark-haired man entered the room. Apollo couldn’t help but stare – he wore a cowboy hat and his prison guard’s uniform was almost hidden by a poncho.

“You folks lookin’ for Warden Peace?” the man asked.

“Y-yes,” Apollo replied. He pulled the paperwork that Klavier gave him out of his pocket and showed it to the guard, along with his badge. “I’m Apollo Justice, I’m Kristoph Gavin’s attorney.” He indicated his sister. “This is my assistant, Trucy Wright. We’re here investigating the murder of Diego Armando. We were hoping to check out the crime scene and were told to report to the warden first.”

The man was gazing at Trucy.

“Wright, huh?” he remarked. “Little lady, your father isn’t…Phoenix Wright, is he?”

“That’s right!” Trucy answered with a grin. She could see the man doing the math in his head, and continued, “He’s been my daddy as long as my real one, anyway.”

The man shook his head slightly, a faint smile on his face.

“The range sure ain’t as big as it used to be,” he murmured. He looked at Apollo’s paperwork and attorney’s badge carefully, then extended a hand. “Jake Marshall at your service, partner.”

Apollo shook it, wincing slightly at the strength of Jake’s grip.

“We’ve been expecting Gavin’s attorney since early this morning,” Jake explained. “The warden’s having coffee right now, but he told me to come up and wait for you.” He gave Apollo his badge and paperwork back. “This all seems in order. Come with me, I’ll show you what you want to see.”

Jake led them out of the office, holding the door open for them. As he started up the corridor, the soft jangling sound returned. Apollo looked down and saw that Jake was wearing cowboy boots, complete with spurs.

(You have got to be kidding…!)

“So, you know my daddy, Mr. Marshall?” Trucy asked as they walked through the corridors.

“Know him?” Jake answered with a smirk. “This old cowpoke still owes him a favour.”

“Have you worked here long?” Apollo interrupted. He wasn’t keen on starting the man on a trip down memory lane.

“A few years now,” Jake replied. They reached a security door with a number code lock. “Stay close,” he warned as he punched the buttons. “We’re entering the cell blocks.”

They passed by rows of cells, each housing two or three inmates. Apollo stole glances at the men from the corner of his eye, suddenly grateful that so far he’d only helped put away three people for murder, two of which were currently in the hospital wing and the other was in the women’s prison on the other side of town. He moved closer to Trucy, not at all comfortable with the way some of the prisoners were leering at her.

“Did you know the victim? Diego Armando?” he asked, trying to distract himself from the stares they were getting.

“I used to know a man named Diego Armando,” Jake replied, “a cocky, smooth-talking hombre who duelled with my baby brother across the courtroom.” They reached a staircase and he directed them to climb up it. “But that was a long time ago. When our paths crossed again, I barely recognised him. He’d turned sour inside…angry.”

Apollo looked back at him.

“Angry?” he huffed. He remembered the hunch he’d had with Kristoph, and asked, “Were the other prisoners afraid of him?”

Jake shrugged. “I can’t speak for four hundred other men.”

They reached the top of the staircase and began to walk past more cells.

“You must have some idea,” Apollo pressed. “You work here, don’t you?”

Jake shot him a stern look.

“I work here,” he confirmed, “but I don’t fraternise. Partner, working in here is like walking barefoot through a field of rattlesnakes. You get too close…” He shot Apollo with double-barrelled fingers.

“They’d kill you?” Trucy asked in alarm.

“Heh.” Jake adjusted his hat slightly. “Some of ’em will try it…but what I mean is, it don’t pay to get chummy with these guys. You start makin’ believe they’re your friends, then they’ll ask you to do them a favour – just one, it seems reasonable at the time…and bam.” He smacked his fist into his palm for emphasis. “Suddenly you work for them. Cos if you don’t, they’re gonna tell your boss about that first favour, and you’re gonna get fired. Or worse: if you’ve been dumb enough to tell them about your family, they’re gonna threaten them.” They turned a corner and went through another security door. “Now Kristoph Gavin, he had most of the greenhorn guards and a couple of seasoned hands working for him.”

“Well, I guess that makes sense…” Trucy mused. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have had that big fancy cell all to himself.”

“Yep,” Jake answered. “He lost that in the big reshuffle, though. Made him pretty mad.”

Apollo nodded thoughtfully, then remembered what had started the conversation in the first place. “If you can’t speak for the prisoners, then tell me what you thought of Armando. What was he like to…” He searched for the right word, and sheepishly settled on, “…guard?”

“You ever worked on a ranch there, boy?” Jake asked.

Apollo shook his head. “No.”

“Well, here’s some advice if you ever do,” Jake continued. “When you’re working with cattle, always watch out for the bull.” He glanced back at Apollo and elaborated, “See, the steers’ll behave, go quietly…but the bull’s unpredictable. If he gets ornery…” Jake tilted his hat over his forehead and smirked. “…well, we lose more greenhorns that way.”

Apollo stared at him, his antennae drooping over his forehead. (Why can no-one ever give me a straight answer?!) “…Thanks.”

The cells they were passing were empty, and as Apollo looked towards the end of the corridor he could see why – the wall was blackened with soot. They were reaching their destination.

“Laundry room is under this wing,” Jake explained. “That’s where the fire started. It came up that staircase there at the end of the corridor, directly opposite Armando and Gavin’s cell. I understand there’s an accident investigation team working to determine the cause of the fire.”

“Where are the prisoners who are normally held here?” Apollo asked.

“Some of them have been rehoused in B Wing,” Jake replied. “Most of ‘em are still in the hospital under observation.” They reached the cell where the murder took place. Ema was standing inside, her back to the entrance.

Chapter Text

May 18

State Penitentiary, A Wing

11.30 AM

“Detective Skye,” Jake remarked, removing his hat and placing it over his chest.

Ema turned around, a warm smile lighting up her face.

“Officer Marshall,” she replied. She folded her arms and smirked. “Still rocking the cowboy look, huh?”

“Still wearing that lab coat,” Jake shot back with a grin. “It’s good to see you, bambina.” He turned to Apollo and Trucy. “Well, I’ll be outside when you folks are ready to leave.” He nodded to Ema. “Come by the guards’ room later, we can catch up.”

(Is there *anyone* on this case who doesn’t know someone else who’s involved?) Apollo wondered as Jake stepped out.

“You finally made it,” Ema remarked teasingly, interrupting Apollo’s train of thought. “I was about to quit waiting and go home.”

(Oh gee, thanks for sticking around and doing your job.) Apollo looked around the cell. To his left was a set of bunkbeds. Opposite those, fixed to the right hand side wall, was a shelf with some personal items on it. A toilet was positioned in the centre of the back wall, with a sink in the back right hand corner.

“So, uh, what can you tell us?” Apollo asked.

“Well, first of all, this crime scene wasn’t exactly pristine when we got here,” Ema answered. “We couldn’t examine it until the firefighters got the blaze under control, and they had to take Gavin to the hospital wing practically right away. We’ve got one photograph of the scene before they moved him – that’s it.” Ema stepped aside and directed their attention to the white outline on the floor, in the centre of the cell. The head of the figure was propped against the toilet, the legs extending under the bunk beds. “This is where Armando and Gavin were found.”

“What, both of them?” Trucy asked in confusion.

“That’s right,” Ema replied. “The bad news, from your point of view, is that Gavin was found face down on top of Armando.”

Apollo grimaced. “How about the murder weapon?”

Ema pulled out her bag of Snackoos and crunched away before answering.

“The toilet bowl,” she said at last, pointing to the lavatory in the back wall of the cell. “From the position Gavin and Armando were in when they were found, it looks like there was some sort of struggle, during which Gavin got the upper hand and smacked Armando’s head against the edge of the toilet bowl hard enough to fracture his skull. Then Gavin passed out from smoke inhalation.”

Apollo ran a sweaty hand over his hair. The prosecution now had motive and a plausible scenario, with fairly strong circumstantial evidence to back it up. There had to be something in here that could help him turn things around.

“So, uh…did you spray with luminol yet?” he asked.

Ema smirked and handed him the spray and goggles. “Knock yourself out.”

As Apollo expected, the bulk of the blood traces were on and around the toilet bowl. Then he spotted some distinctive patterns of blood on the floor.

“Hey – these are footprints!”

“Don’t get over-excited,” Ema replied. “These were left by the firefighters when they moved Gavin out of here.”

Apollo slumped. “Oh.”

“Come on, Apollo, don’t give up!” Trucy urged. “There’s got to be something in here that can help!”

Determined, Apollo put the goggles back on and returned to his task. The rest of the cell was clean…except part of the metal frame of the top bunk.

“Detective Skye,” Apollo said, “where did these flecks of blood come from?”

Ema donned her own pair of goggles and gazed at the flecks with a thoughtful expression.

“Truthfully, I don’t know,” she replied. “Neither Armando or Gavin had any other wounds where the skin was broken. It’s possible the firefighters splashed some of Armando’s blood up there when they were moving Gavin…but they’re up a little high for that to have happened…”

“Look, Polly!” Trucy exclaimed. “Right where the blood traces on the bunk bed are – the metal’s clean. The rest of it is sooty.”

Apollo frowned. “You’re right.” He gazed at the clean space on the bunk, then reached out. “It’s almost like…” He hovered his hand over the clean area. It was a perfect fit. “…like a handprint.”

“Good eye,” Ema replied. “Unfortunately I couldn’t find any prints…” She offered Apollo the fingerprinting kit. “…but you’re welcome to try again, if you like.”

Apollo dusted the clean part of the bunk bed frame carefully, but it was just as Ema said – no prints. He shook his head.

“Somebody touched this,” he said with conviction. “They might have worn gloves but they definitely touched this.” He turned to Trucy. “Hand me the camera, would you?”

“Alakazam!” Trucy plucked the specialist camera they’d acquired a while back for investigations from her hat and handed it to Apollo. The young attorney took a snap of the bunk bed frame, and then again using a special filter to show the luminol traces. He turned to hand the camera back to Trucy and saw that she was gazing at the shelf opposite the beds. Apollo joined her. The shelf bore a few books and some personal items.

“Think there are any clues here?” Trucy asked. Before Apollo could answer, she reached up and began to look at each thing one by one. “Look, a golden retriever!”

She held the picture out to Apollo. He recognised it from the video evidence in the Misham case.

“That’s Gavin’s dog,” he told her, placing it back on the shelf. There were three books next to it – a far cry from the small library Kristoph had had before. Two of them were legal tomes. Apollo winced at the third one.

“ ‘Faust’,” Trucy murmured, reading the title off the spine. “Isn’t that about a man who makes a deal with the devil?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Apollo replied. He had a sudden mental image of the devil face in Kristoph’s hand, and shivered. He turned his attention back to the shelf. There was a clear gap between Kristoph’s belongings and those of his cellmate. On Armando’s half of the shelf was a well-thumbed copy of ‘The Mask of Zorro’, and another book with no title on the spine. Apollo pulled it off the shelf.

“ ‘Grade One Braille’,” he read. He turned to the first page out of curiosity, running his fingers over the bumps. “Someone’s written something on this page… ‘Hear Jane. Hear Jane run. Run, Jane, run –’ ” Apollo shut the book in disgust. “That’s terrible.” He put the book back on the shelf, next to a blue and white ashtray with the words ‘Argentina ’22’ and a picture of a soccer ball printed on it. The final thing on the shelf was another photograph. Trucy carefully took it down, gazing at it reverentially.

“This is…Daddy’s mentor,” she murmured.

Apollo nodded. “She was Armando’s lover,” he replied. Gently he took the picture from Trucy’s hands and put it back on the shelf. “Nothing useful there.” He looked around the cell, searching for any other clues. Nothing. Apollo stepped out of the cell and gazed at the staircase opposite, cordoned off by police tape. Something caught his eye and he looked up.

“Hey…Skye –”

Ema walked up beside him.

“Aah, I know what you’re thinking,” she remarked, looking up at the security camera pointed directly into the cell. “No such luck. The electrical wiring for that camera comes up from the laundry room…and guess what shorted out during the fire?”

Apollo’s antennae drooped. “Figures.”

“It went out at around midnight,” Ema continued, “right at the start of a fresh tape. All we have is a blank cassette.”

Apollo shot her a sheepish half-smile. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

Trucy had followed them out of the cell, and now she was gazing at the wall next to them at the end of the corridor. There was a keypad and a large red button set into the wall. “Hey, Detective Skye, what’s this?”

“I can answer that, little lady,” Jake said. “That there’s the release for all the cell doors along this wing. There’s a remote switch, too, in the surveillance room…” He frowned. “…but for some reason it was out of action that night. When we discovered the fire, the only way to release the prisoners here was for the warden to put on breathing apparatus and use that switch.” He shot the switch with his finger. “That’s when he discovered the murder.”

“Neat,” Trucy remarked, taking a picture of the keypad.

Apollo gazed up at the camera thoughtfully.

“Are these cameras on all the time?” he asked.

Jake shook his head. “Only when the prisoners are in their cells,” he replied. “We don’t have them all over the prison, y’understand – most of the time we supervise the prisoners in person. Ain’t no point having a perfect record of someone gettin’ shanked or beaten up – you gotta douse that brushfire before it starts.” He paused and discreetly had a swig of something from a small silver flask. “But after lockdown the prisoners are secure, and having cameras is a might quieter than me stomping up and down here every half hour.”

“I see…” Apollo replied.

“Hey, we still make rounds at night,” Jake clarified sternly, “just not as often as we would if we didn’t have the cameras.”

“Oh, sure, sure!” Apollo said quickly, not at all liking the menacing expression on Jake’s face. “I, uh, I didn’t mean to offend you – or imply…anything…”

“No offence taken,” Jake replied with a tip of his hat.

Apollo wiped the sweat off his brow and turned back to Ema. “So…is there anything else we should know?”

“Well, we do have two witnesses,” Ema replied. She pointed to the cell diagonally opposite the crime scene, beside the stairwell. “The occupants of that cell – Daryan Crescend, and Rowdy Kitaki.”

(Great, now I have to interview Cresce- wait, who?) “*Rowdy* Kitaki?” Apollo asked.

“Big Wins Kitaki’s nephew,” Ema answered. “He’s doing hard time for second degree murder – robbed a convenience store and shot the clerk. Since Big Wins went straight, he’s got none of the usual mob protection or perks.”

“Right,” Apollo replied. “Where will we find him?”

“In the hospital wing, with Dar-” Ema stopped herself and amended, “with Crescend.” She shook her head. “The prosecution will probably call one or both of them, but frankly I wouldn’t rely on their testimony.”

“Because they’re killers?” Trucy asked.

Ema rolled her eyes a little and pulled out her bag of Snackoos. Apollo cringed instinctively as she took one of the snacks and tossed it in her mouth.

“*MUNCH*MUNCH*MUNCH*MUNCH* Because I don’t think they saw anything useful,” she explained. “Come with me, I’ll show you what I mean.” She directed them towards Crescend and Kitaki’s cell. Apollo walked ahead of her and yelped as two Snackoos hit him in the back of the neck. “Two for flinching.”

Apollo shot the detective a glare, rubbing his neck. He and Trucy entered the cell, Ema following.

“Now,” Ema remarked, “face the bars…” Apollo and Trucy obeyed. Ema extended an arm, pointing to Gavin and Armando’s cell. “…and look that way.”

Apollo got as close to the entrance as possible, right up to the corner of the cell. Even here, all he could see of the crime scene was the shelf, and part of the toilet bowl. He signalled Trucy to pass him the camera, and took a snapshot.

“You can’t see the bunk beds from here,” he said. “And given where the body was found…that was where the struggle happened.”

“Bullseye,” Ema replied. “Plus, it was dark.” She called out to Jake. “Officer Marshall, could you turn off the lights, please?”

“Sure, bambina,” Jake replied. He moved to the light switches and shut off the large fluorescent lights, leaving faint, glowing strips running either side of the linoleum floor as the only light source.

“Now add in smoke,” Ema continued, “and the fire alarm, and I don’t know how anyone could hear or see anything that went on.” Jake put the lights back on and the trio stepped out of the cell. “But the prosecution seems determined to call one or both witnesses tomorrow.”

Apollo nodded. “Then we’d better interview them.”

They returned to the crime scene for one last look around. Apollo thought back over his interview with Kristoph as he gazed around the tiny cell. What was it like to share such a confined space with a man who both terrified and irritated you? Was that how it happened…did Kristoph snap and kill Armando out of rage? Or panic? Or had someone, somehow, entered the cell and killed Armando while Kristoph was unconscious?

Apollo took a deep breath and let it out.

“I think we’re done here for now,” he remarked to Jake. “Can you take us down to the hospital wing, please? We’ve got some witnesses to interview.”

Chapter Text

May 18

Hospital Wing Corridor

12.03 PM

“Thanks for escorting us to the crime scene, Officer Marshall!” Trucy said, bouncing slightly on her toes. “I’ll be sure to tell Daddy we met.”

Jake tipped his hat slightly to her, then turned to Apollo.

“There’s something you haven’t asked me,” he remarked, “and I’m surprised you haven’t.”

Apollo frowned in puzzlement, trying to think of what he could’ve forgotten.

“Um…”

Jake smirked faintly at him. “I’m the one who discovered the fire.”

Apollo smacked himself lightly in the forehead. (Of course!) “Can you tell us about it?” he asked.

“Sure,” Jake replied. He drew a buck knife from under his poncho and idly scraped some of the stubble from his chin. “About ten past midnight I was passing the laundry room when I smelled smoke. I looked inside and saw the fire – it was already out of control.” Jake put the knife away. “I hit the fire alarm and beat it down to the surveillance room. That’s when I discovered the automatic release for the cells on A Wing wasn’t working.”

“I see,” Apollo replied. “What happened then?”

“I called the fire service while Warden Peace suited up and went to open the cells manually,” Jake answered.

“ ‘Suited up’?” Trucy asked.

“Yeah,” Jake replied. “The warden was the designated fire safety officer that night, so he put on breathing apparatus and fireproof overalls and gloves and went to open the cells.”

“About what time was that?” Apollo asked.

“Hmm…” Jake thought for a minute. “I reckon by the time he left the surveillance room, it was about a quarter past midnight.”

“So he would’ve arrived at the crime scene at about...?” Apollo pressed.

Jake shrugged.

“I can’t tell you exactly, but he came back to the surveillance room at about twelve-thirty,” he replied. “That’s when he told me there’d been a murder and to call the police.” He had another swig from his flask. “By then the firefighters were in the building.”

Apollo nodded thoughtfully, then frowned.

“Wait – both you and the warden were here on the night of the fire?” he asked. “And both of you are working the day shift today?”

“You got it,” Jake replied. “We’re a little short-handed right now. Remember I told you Gavin had a lot of guards working for him? Well, some of them were reassigned to patrol other wings, but a few were fired.”

“So you’re working double shifts,” Apollo concluded.

“It seems strange that the warden would be here that night, too,” Trucy mused. “He’s the boss, isn’t he? Why wouldn’t he assign someone else to cover that shift?”

“As I recollect,” Jake replied, stroking his chin thoughtfully, “someone had called in sick unexpectedly.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Apollo said. He extended a hand to the cowboy prison guard. “Thanks for your help, Officer Marshall.”

“My pleasure, partner,” Jake said, shaking Apollo’s hand firmly. “Good luck with the trial.” He lowered his head slightly, the brim of his hat obscuring his face in a way that reminded Apollo of Phoenix. “You’re gonna need it.”

He turned and walked away from them, spurs jangling. Apollo rolled his eyes at his affected John Wayne limp.

“Let’s go talk to Kitaki and Crescend.”

May 18

Hospital Wing Ward 3

12.10 PM

Apollo and Trucy paused once inside the hospital ward.

“How do we know which one is Rowdy Kitaki?” Trucy whispered.

Apollo scanned the room, then gestured to one of the beds. “That’s how.”

Sitting next to the bed, talking to its occupant, was a man in magenta and ruffles. Apollo recognised him from Phoenix’s old case files, and from material he’d studied in law school. His heart began to beat a little faster. (Miles Edgeworth. *The* Miles Edgeworth…this is who I’m up against tomorrow?)

The man rose, shaking hands with Rowdy, as Apollo and Trucy approached. They met in the centre of the ward. Edgeworth pulled up short as he and Apollo almost collided. Apollo stepped back, mouth suddenly dry as the prosecutor glared at him.

“Uh…”

Edgeworth slid his glasses off his face, drew a silk handkerchief from his pocket, and began to clean them.

“You must be Gavin’s attorney,” he remarked, not looking up from his task. “Apollo…Justice, is it?”

“Th-that’s right,” Apollo answered. “I’m here to interview the witnesses.”

“Mm.” Edgeworth inspected his glasses carefully and put them back on. He smirked at Apollo. “Wright’s taught you that much, at least.”

Apollo felt vaguely insulted...strangely enough, on Phoenix’s behalf.

“Actually, I learned that in law school,” he replied testily.

“My apologies,” Edgeworth replied, another smirk appearing on his face. “I was under the impression you bluffed your way through cases using parlour tricks.”

“Hey!” Apollo and Trucy exclaimed in unison.

Edgeworth frowned at them. “I’d keep your voices down if I were you,” he advised sternly. “This is a hospital.” He addressed Apollo. “I look forward to our meeting tomorrow, Justice.” He began to move past them, pausing to deliver a parting shot over his shoulder. “Just try to remember, you’re in a courtroom. Not a circus.”

Trucy glared after him, and for a moment Apollo wondered if he was going to have to hold her back by her cape. “What a jerk!” she hissed. “I don’t know what Daddy sees in him.”

“Yeah, I – wait, what?” Apollo looked at her in confusion.

“They’re friends,” Trucy explained, giving Apollo a funny look. “Why, what did you think I meant?”

Apollo decided it was best not to answer.

“Forget it,” he said. “We’ve got work to do.” He walked over to Rowdy Kitaki’s bed, Trucy following him.

In contrast to his cousin Wocky’s ostentatious hairstyle, Rowdy Kitaki’s jet black hair was cropped tight against his scalp. When he turned his head Apollo and Trucy could see part of a word shaved into the back of his hair. Given that the word began with “Ro”, Apollo was willing to bet it was his own name.

“What do you honkies want?” he growled as Apollo and Trucy sat down.

Apollo wisely decided not to point out that Rowdy was just as white as they were. “My name’s Apollo Justice,” he said, showing Rowdy his attorney’s badge, “and this is my assistant, Trucy Wright. I need to ask you some questions about what you saw the night of the fire –”

“No way, brah,” Rowdy snarled. “You’re defending Diego’s murderer, I ain’t talkin’ to you.”

Apollo was taken aback. “You – you can’t do that!” he protested. “I’m an attorney investigating a murder case. Your testimony could be –”

“You wanna hear my testimony, brah, you’re gonna have to wait till tomorrow,” Rowdy snapped. His voice kept rising and Apollo winced, remembering what Edgeworth had said a few minutes earlier. “I’m gonna take the stand and tell everyone how that scum murdered Diego IN COLD BLOOD!”

“What’s going on here?”

Apollo, Trucy and Rowdy all looked up. A nurse with her dark hair in braids had appeared by the bed.

“These honkies are pestering me and interfering with my recovery,” Rowdy complained. “I’m all agitated and whatnot.” He coughed exaggeratedly, and looked up at the nurse with a pleading expression. “Can I have some morphine?”

The nurse cast a reproachful stare at Trucy and Apollo.

“We were just trying to –” Apollo began, but was cut off as Rowdy broke into another round of fake coughing. (Oh, you have GOT to be kidding.)

“So weak,” Rowdy croaked. “I already talked to the prosecutor for an hour…” He lay back on the pillows and closed his eyes.

“Hey!” Apollo protested as the nurse began to shoo them away from his bed. He glanced at Rowdy and lowered his voice. “You don’t really believe all that, do you?”

The nurse gave him a faint, apologetic smile.

“No,” she replied, “but I’m afraid that if he doesn’t want to talk to you, then he won’t. And Rowdy can be…very loud, about not talking.”

“I’ll say,” Trucy remarked. She sighed. “I guess we do have to think about the other patients.”

“All right,” Apollo promised the nurse. “We won’t talk to him.” The nurse smiled her thanks and left to continue her rounds. Apollo ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

“Hey, kid, get over here.”

Apollo and Trucy turned around. It took them a moment to realise that the dark-haired man beckoning them over was Daryan Crescend. His signature phallic pompadour was gone, replaced with regular bangs that reached to his eyes. The rest of his hair had been hacked back to shoulder length. He sat up a little straighter as Apollo and Trucy came over.

“Pull the curtain,” Daryan said shortly, and Trucy obeyed.

“At least you’re willing to talk to us,” Apollo remarked as he sat down.

“Yeah, yeah,” Daryan growled, pushing a stray lock of hair back behind his ear. “You aren’t missing much by not getting Rowdy’s testimony, because he’s gonna lie his ass off in court tomorrow.”

Apollo frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean Rowdy was Armando’s best pal,” Daryan answered. “Or thought he was.” He glanced from Apollo to Trucy and back again. “See, Rowdy held up a convenience store a couple years back. Shot the clerk in front of three witnesses and a security camera. Used to be that when a Kitaki committed a crime, evidence like that would…disappear.” Daryan smirked. “Unfortunately, Rowdy pulled this little stunt right when Big Wins decided to go straight. The old man paid for his attorney and told him, ‘If you did this, you deserve to be in jail’.”

“What does that have to do with him being friends with Armando?” Apollo asked.

“I’m getting to that,” Daryan replied testily. “When Rowdy got here, he discovered he had no clout and no protection because the Kitakis were out of the crime business. So he looked around and decided to latch onto Armando, because nobody went near Armando.”

Apollo frowned. Kristoph was afraid of Armando. Marshall had described him as angry and unpredictable. Now this.

“Why?” he asked.

Daryan looked at him as if he was an imbecile.

“Because the guy was crazy,” he said impatiently. “When Rowdy started to hang out with him, we took bets on how long it would be before Armando flipped out and drowned him in a washing machine.” He shook his head. “Never happened. And Rowdy never realised Armando was making fun of him the whole time.”

“So Rowdy’s going to lie because he really believes Mr. Gavin killed his friend,” Trucy guessed.

Daryan shook his head. “You’re way off, kid,” he replied. “This is what we both saw that night.”

He reached over to the locker by his bed and had a sip of water before continuing.

“When fire alarm woke us up, the wing was already filling up with smoke. I was rattling the cell bars, trying to get the door to open. I could see Armando across the way, doing the same thing.”

“How could you see him?” Apollo asked sharply, remembering how dark it was in the wing with the lights off.

“His visor,” Daryan replied. “It had three red lights at the front, lit him up like a Christmas tree. Anyway, the next thing I see him whip round to the left…then he lunged at something. He went out of sight for a few seconds, then I saw him coming down.” He frowned. “I think I heard something falling, too, but the fire alarm…” He smirked. “I’ve played so many rock concerts, but that alarm was the loudest thing I’ve ever heard. Anyway, I saw Armando fall, and then he didn’t move. That’s all I saw before I blacked out.”

Apollo stared at Daryan, digesting what he’d just heard.

“From what you’re saying…” he said slowly, “…it almost sounds like…”

“Like Armando attacked Gavin?” Daryan finished. “Yeah.”

“You didn’t see Gavin struggling with Armando?” Apollo asked.

Daryan shook his head. “I only saw Armando’s visor,” he replied. “If he hadn’t been wearing it, I wouldn’t have seen anything.”

Apollo and Trucy looked at each other. Apollo fingered his bracelet idly – it hadn’t reacted once during Daryan’s story.

“Is the prosecution calling you as a witness?” Apollo enquired.

Daryan shrugged.

“That prosecutor told me to be at the courthouse tomorrow,” he replied. “He said I might be called to testify.”

Apollo frowned. ‘Might’ be called? Daryan’s testimony seemed to undermine the prosecution’s case. If Edgeworth was planning to ignore it, Apollo would have to make sure that Daryan’s story was heard in court.

“Well, thank you for your time,” Apollo remarked, extending a hand to Daryan.

Daryan didn’t take it. “You wanna thank me?” he snorted. He pulled the curtain back a little and nodded to Klavier, sitting by Kristoph’s bed. His tone softened. “Keep an eye on him, huh? This is hitting him pretty hard.”

Trucy nodded. “We will.”

Apollo glanced at his watch as they left Daryan’s bedside. “Let’s break for lunch,” he suggested.

“Good idea, Polly,” Trucy replied. Before Apollo could object, she took his hand and practically dragged him to Kristoph’s bed.

The elder Gavin brother was still asleep, or feigning it. Klavier was slumped in the chair beside him, a dejected expression on his face.

“Prosecutor Gavin?” Trucy said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. Klavier looked up at her, a brief smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“We were going to get some lunch,” Trucy continued. “Would you like to join us?”

A sad smile appeared on Klavier’s face, and Apollo hadn’t the heart to object to the invitation.

“Ja,” Klavier managed. He glanced at his brother again, and began to stand. “Ja, that would be good.”

Chapter Text

May 18

Chez Kay’s Bar and Grill

1.10 PM

Chez Kay’s was almost deserted; the big chain franchises got most of the lunchtime customers. Trucy finished her sandwich first, and was taking her time over her soda. Apollo was chewing thoughtfully, running through all the evidence and testimony they’d gathered so far in his head. Klavier’s meal lay half-finished on the plate in front of him, and he was gazing disinterestedly out the nearby window.

The silence hanging over the three of them was rapidly growing oppressive.

Apollo was the first to break it.

“I don’t think he did it.”

Klavier shifted in his seat, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. He teased a strand out of his braid and then looked at Apollo, one eyebrow raised in a silent question.

“I’m just saying,” Apollo went on, suddenly uncomfortable with the expression on Klavier’s face, which was stuck halfway between pity and ‘Are you serious?’ “The more I hear, the fishier it seems. I mean, based on Crescend’s testimony –”

Klavier gave a short, unhappy laugh and looked out the window again. Apollo was about to continue when Trucy laid a hand on his wrist. He looked at her questioningly, and she shook her head.

“Prosecutor Gavin,” she began, “what Polly means is…” Trucy glanced at her brother, and continued. “…would you like to talk about it?”

Klavier stared at the tabletop for several silent minutes.

“When you are seven,” he said at last, “and your brother is fifteen, and so tall, tall as a man…and he carries you on his back, and reads you scary bedtime stories because he knows you love them…” He flicked his bangs out of his face and glanced up at his companions, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “…what else is there to do but worship him? I wear my hair like him. I studied law like him. I even became a musician because of him.” Klavier grinned briefly at Trucy’s surprised expression. “Ja. Kristoph plays the violin, you know?”

Apollo nodded; he’d heard him practising a few times when he’d worked for Kristoph.

“He can play folk music, bluegrass, beautiful classical pieces,” Klavier continued, a faraway look descending on his face. “I would lie in my bed and listen to him playing the theme from Schindler’s List. I begged my parents to get me a violin. They got me a guitar instead.” He played idly with a bar mat on the table. “I think they wanted Kristoph to have one thing he didn’t have to share with his baby brother.”

Apollo and Trucy exchanged glances, but said nothing. Klavier took a deep breath and let it out slow, his expression growing sombre again.

“Ever since Kristoph went to prison, I’ve been wondering if there was some sign I missed that something was wrong,” he murmured. “I keep asking myself what happened to him, that he could do such horrible things…” He looked up at them and swallowed. “…and then I wonder if he was always this way and I never noticed…because I was looking at him through the eyes of an adoring brother.” Klavier dropped his gaze again and shook his head slightly. “I think back on the times we had together as children, the good old days…and I find I can’t trust my memories. The Kristoph I knew…may be only a figment of my imagination.”

The prosecutor looked so unhappy. Apollo badly wanted to say something, but he had no idea what. The silence stretched between them, until eventually, Trucy spoke up.

“You know,” she said gently, “Daddy became my new daddy after my old one left. I bet if you asked him, he’d be your new big brother.”

Klavier looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Danke, Fraulein Wright,” he managed, “but I don’t want any more brothers.”

He dropped a fifty-dollar bill on the table, more than enough to cover all three meals, and left.

Apollo ran a hand through his hair. “Poor guy.”

“Yeah,” Trucy murmured.

They finished lunch in silence. After a trip to the restroom, the two began to plan what to do next.

“We should talk to the warden,” Trucy suggested. “He’s the one who found the bodies. Plus, we should make sure his story matches up with Officer Marshall’s.”

Apollo nodded. “Right.” He called out to the waitress. “Check, please.”

May 18

Warden’s Office

2.00 PM

At Apollo’s knock, a voice boomed, “Come in!”

Apollo and Trucy entered the office. The warden was sitting behind his desk, finishing some paperwork. He was a tall, well-built man with a head of thick, grey hair, and a moustache to match. He put the paperwork in his out-tray and looked up at them.

“Now then,” he remarked with a smile, and extended his hand. “Warden Peace, Warden Stanford Peace.” Apollo and Trucy shook his hand. “What can I do for you two young people?”

“I’m Apollo Justice,” Apollo answered, “and this is my assistant, Trucy Wright. We’re defending Kristoph Gavin on a charge of murder.”

“Ah,” the warden replied, nodding. He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “Then you want to ask me some questions.”

“Yes,” Apollo said. “We understand you were the one who discovered that a murder had taken place.”

“That’s correct,” Peace replied. He leaned back a little further and closed his eyes briefly before continuing. “I recall I was in the surveillance room that night. The officer who was supposed to be on duty had called in sick at the last minute. At about twelve fifteen, Officer Marshall arrived and told me a fire had broken out in the laundry room on A Wing.”

“You were in the surveillance room all night?” Apollo asked suspiciously. “Didn’t you see the fire starting?”

Peace shook his head. “We don’t have cameras in the laundry rooms, son. Only in the cell blocks.”

“Right,” Apollo mumbled, nodding. Officer Marshall had said something about that, hadn’t he? “So what happened then?”

“I tried the remote release button for the cells on A Wing,” the warden answered. “It didn’t work. We had to get those men out of there quickly, so I put on fireproof clothing and breathing apparatus and went to open the cells manually.”

“About what time was this?” Apollo asked.

Peace closed his eyes briefly again, before answering, “I recall Officer Marshall came in at twelve fifteen…it took me a minute to get my gear on…another seven minutes to get to A Wing… I’d say I reached the crime scene at about twelve-twenty-three.”

“And that’s when you saw Armando was dead?” Trucy asked.

“That’s when I saw he’d been murdered,” Peace corrected her sternly, leaning forward on his desk. “Armando was lying by the toilet, Gavin on top of him. There was blood everywhere. It was pretty clear what happened.”

“Then you called the police,” Apollo concluded.

“That’s right,” Peace answered. “They were on their way anyhow, as it turns out – just in case this was arson.”

“I was wondering,” Apollo remarked thoughtfully. “Gavin used to have a cell to himself. How did he and Armando come to be cellmates?”

“We reassign all the prisoners from time to time,” the warden explained. “Keeps them from getting too attached to a particular cell.” Apollo didn’t like the smile that had appeared on the warden’s face. “Keeps them from thinking of this place as ‘home’.”

Trucy grimaced at Peace’s words. Apollo pushed his own distaste aside. “So it had nothing to do with breaking Gavin’s influence over the guards?”

Peace looked at him, and Apollo tensed, heightened senses on alert. He was sure the man was going to lie.

Instead, Peace gave a sigh.

“Yes, that was part of it,” he admitted. “Gavin was turning a whole section of this prison into his own personal empire.” His expression darkened. “It was unacceptable. However, since technically he hadn’t done anything wrong, I couldn’t impose the usual sanctions…so when we relocated the prisoners last month, I took the opportunity to separate him from his…friends on the prison staff.”

Apollo rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“Apart from manipulating the prison guards, did Gavin behave himself?”

Peace barked out a short, sharp laugh.

“Are you kidding? Slick son of a bitch was a model prisoner,” he replied. “With the guards he’d corrupted and the prisoners he paid off, he never once had to get his hands dirty.”

Apollo gazed at him. “What about Armando? How would you describe his behaviour?”

His bracelet began to react before the warden even spoke.

“Average,” Peace replied. “No different to most of the men locked up here.”

(You’re lying.) Apollo fixed Peace with an intense stare.

“That’s funny,” he replied. “Talking to the guards and the other prisoners, I got the impression he was pretty troublesome.”

Peace shifted forward in his seat and shot Apollo an irritated look.

“I’ll remind you that people exaggerate,” he growled. “Okay, it’s true – Armando occasionally lashed out. Lots of prisoners do. Doesn’t change the fact that Gavin killed him.”

He still wasn’t telling the whole truth, but Apollo didn’t have anything else with which to challenge him.

“Well, thank you for your time, sir,” he remarked.

“My pleasure, son,” Warden Peace replied. There was something cagey in his eyes as he continued, “You need anything else now, you let me know.”

Apollo looked him square in the face. “I will.”

May 18

State Penitentiary Visitors’ Area

2.30 PM

“I think that’s all we can do here today,” Apollo remarked quietly. The visitors’ area was almost deserted, so he took the opportunity to confer with Trucy about what to do next. “We don’t have much…but there’s that mysterious handprint on the bunk beds, and Crescend’s testimony makes it sound like Armando started the fight.”

“The prosecution has motive, though,” Trucy reminded him.

“Yeah,” Apollo answered. “And I still don’t know how Armando died.” He ran a hand through his hair and looked at her. “It looks like we’ll have to wait and see what the prosecution’s witnesses say tomorrow, and hope there’s a contradiction somewhere.”

“Same as every case!” Trucy said brightly. As Apollo slumped dejectedly, spikes drooping, she added, “Oh, cheer up, Polly! We’ll find the truth, just like we always do!”

(Wish I had your optimism,) Apollo thought as they left the prison and began the journey to the train station. He couldn’t stop thinking about how strongly his bracelet had reacted when he’d asked Kristoph if he was afraid of Armando…or the heartbreaking look on Klavier’s face as he reminisced about his childhood with his big brother. Apollo had a nasty feeling that before this case was over, the Feys were going to have to face some ugly truths about their ‘loved one’, too.

April 1

????

State Penitentiary, A Wing

It had not been a very good April 1^st.

Kristoph had been rudely awoken for an earlier than usual headcount, and then briskly informed that he was being transferred to another cell. He’d tried to protest, but the usual guards, the ones he could rely on, had been transferred to different areas of the prison. He’d been told that he could only take a handful of his books, one picture, and that his beloved violin would be stored in the common area from now on. He was then ordered to collect his belongings and marched to a dingy, two-man cell opposite the stairwell on A Wing.

But the insult of being ordered around like a common thug had paled immediately as soon as he saw his cellmate.

The same cellmate was currently lying in the bottom bunk, rattling both the bed frame and Kristoph’s nerves as he tried in vain to get some sleep.

“# I ain’t tripping no more

You can live how you wanna

Bet you need to make a name, bet you wanna

You gave me the ass, I would

Whip it when I wanna, now you wanna talk down and clown…#”

The tremor in Armando’s leg seemed particularly bad, even for someone in his condition. Kristoph was convinced he was doing it on purpose. He bit his tongue and tried to ignore it, like he tried to ignore the ‘singing’ coming from below him.

“# But you shouldn’t have tried to play me

Now I bet you hate me

Told you girl let’s go but then –”

Armando deliberately began to kick the frame of the bed.

“- you ACT LIKE YOU AIN’T HEARING ME! #”

“What?!” Kristoph asked in desperation. “What do you want?!”

“I want you to stop jerking off,” Armando laughed. The bed frame rattled as his leg shook. His tone sobered. “Seriously, man, keep it up, you won’t have anything left to piss with.”

“You know very well you’re the one shaking the bed!” Kristoph retorted, his voice pitching just a little too high. “Why don’t YOU stop?!”

“Can’t help it, amigo,” Armando replied from beneath him. There was a creak as he sat up, slowly manoeuvring his legs out of the bunk. “Wish I could…”

Armando stood up and Kristoph recoiled as he turned to face him, staring at him with eyes that long ago had ceased to function, smirking like the devil himself.

“I was very badly poisoned, you see.”

For the first time since arriving in prison, Kristoph was filled with a deep, paralysing fear.

Armando turned away, plucked a cigarette and match from his jumpsuit pocket, and lit up with practised ease.

(He knows.)

Blood on the tables, lunch on the floor. The frenzied, repeated cracks of plastic against skin and bone. Helpless screams as the victim struggled to protect his head and face from his enraged attacker.

Armando stood by the bars of the cell, curling one hand around the metal, flicking ash onto the floor with the other. He faced the corridor in a perverse mockery of an observer.

“ # All the time that you were gone

I thought about how things went wrong…”

Kristoph huddled against the wall, wrapping the thin blanket around himself in some vain hope that it would protect him.

“ # Now you’re coming down to earth

Okay

Hello…”

Armando turned from the bars, raising his arm in a gesture known to every defence attorney and prosecutor, pointing straight at Kristoph with his lit cigarette. Kristoph felt his heart stop.

He was chosen.

“…Welcome to the world! #”

Chapter Text

May 19

Defendant Lobby No. 3

09.50 AM

Apollo paced the Defendant Lobby slowly, taking deep breaths in and out. He had refined his pre-trial ritual over the past year, and this morning he’d followed it to the letter. No Chords of Steel training. Gargle with mouthwash for five minutes. Breakfast of one bowl of oatmeal garnished with a chopped banana, one glass of milk and one cup of strong black coffee. Bracelet, badge, lucky socks. Three circuits of the Defendant Lobby to calm down and run through the previous day’s investigation in his head.

He was ready.

“How do you feel?”

Apollo turned as Phoenix entered the room. The sight of his normally scruffy boss in a suit, with his hair carefully gelled into spikes and his beard neatly trimmed, coaxed a brief smile from the young attorney.

“I’m fine,” Apollo replied. “A little nervous, but I can handle it.”

Phoenix nodded.

“Well, I’d better get going,” he said reluctantly, absently fingering the black armband wrapped around the sleeve of his blue suit.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you, Daddy?” Trucy asked earnestly.

“I’m sure, honey,” Phoenix answered with a faint smile. He gave her a hug. “Apollo needs you more than I do, today.” He let her go and looked over at his protégé. “Apollo.”

The young attorney stopped pacing and came towards him.

“Miles Edgeworth isn’t like Klavier Gavin,” Phoenix warned. “He won’t go easy on you, and he won’t help you. Not unless you’ve got solid evidence to back up your case.”

Apollo swallowed and nodded. Suddenly he felt a lot more nervous. Phoenix smiled warmly and patted him on the shoulder.

“Hey, you’ll do fine,” he assured him. He glanced from Apollo to Trucy and back again. “I’ll see you later.”

Apollo blew out a breath as Phoenix left the room. He looked at Trucy, but before he could say anything, the bailiff called them to the courtroom.

(This is it. Get ready for justice!)

May 19

Courtroom No. 3

10.00 AM

The crack of the gavel rang out, silencing the murmurs from the gallery.

“The trial of Kristoph Gavin for the murder of Diego Armando is now underway,” the judge intoned. “The jurists have been sworn in. Is the prosecution ready?”

Miles Edgeworth gazed impassively across the courtroom at his opponent, and adjusted his glasses.

“The prosecution is ready, Your Honour.”

“Is the defence ready?”

Apollo Justice gazed back at the prosecutor.

“The defence is ready, Your Honour.”

“Very well,” the judge declared. “Mr. Edgeworth, your opening remarks?”

“Your Honour,” Edgeworth began, “it is the prosecution’s case that shortly after midnight on May 17^th, the defendant, Kristoph Gavin, murdered his cellmate, Diego Armando, by smashing his head against the toilet bowl in their cell.” He took a file from the bench beside him. “The autopsy report shows that Armando died of a skull fracture caused by blunt force trauma to the back of the head. Time of death was approximately twelve-twenty.”

He handed a copy of the report to the bailiff, who passed it on to Apollo. Apollo glanced at it quickly, and winced when he saw that bruises, possibly defensive wounds, were found on Armando’s arms.

“At the time of the murder,” Edgeworth continued, “the cell was locked, and Armando and Gavin were the only two occupants.”

“Really?” the judge exclaimed. “Well, if there were only two people in the cell, and one of them was the victim and the other the defendant, then clearly the defendant is guilty!”

“Objection!” Apollo shouted. “You can’t just declare a guilty verdict without a trial!”

The judge’s expression darkened. “Are you telling me how to run my courtroom, Mr. Justice?”

Apollo slumped on the bench, sweat breaking out on his forehead. (Great, we haven’t even got to the cross-examination yet and already I’m looking at a penalty.) “N-no, Your Honour.”

“I’m afraid I must agree with the defence, Your Honour,” Edgeworth remarked. Apollo shot a sulky glare at him – the prosecutor hadn’t even flinched on hearing his Chords of Steel. “Even the defendant in an open-and-shut case has the right to a fair trial.” He removed his glasses, cleaned them with his handkerchief, and put them back on. “Besides…I’m sure Mr. Justice has an elaborate and entertaining theory as to ‘what really happened’; no doubt involving a mysterious third person who somehow gained access to a locked prison cell and murdered Armando while Gavin innocently slept.”

Apollo gulped. Edgeworth caught his eye across the courtroom, and smirked.

“I’m sure Your Honour is as curious as I am to hear it.”

“Well,” the judge replied, a look of excitement crossing his normally confused face, “now that you’ve talked it up, I am.” He turned a stern gaze to the defence bench. “Mr. Justice! If you must waste the court’s time, make it entertaining!”

Apollo stared back at the judge in disbelief. (Why don’t you just sell popcorn and tickets while you’re at it?!) “Y…yes, Your Honour.”

“Don’t let them get to you, Polly!” Trucy whispered fiercely, fists clenched in determination. “You can do this!”

The judge banged his gavel.

“Prosecutor Edgeworth, please call your first witness!”

Apollo knew by now that Detective Skye was usually the first witness in a trial, and sure enough, Ema took the stand.

“Please state your name and occupation,” Edgeworth instructed.

“Detective Ema Skye,” Ema replied, a faint smile playing on her face, “of the Criminal Affairs Department.”

“Uh-oh,” Trucy murmured.

“What?” Apollo whispered nervously.

“Look at the way Detective Skye’s looking at Mr. Edgeworth,” Trucy whispered back. “I think someone’s got a crush!”

(Oh, great.) Apollo directed his gaze at the prosecutor, telling himself that Trucy was imagining things.

“Ms. Skye,” Edgeworth continued, “you were one of the first police officers to reach the scene of the crime, correct?”

“Yes,” Ema agreed. “The murder was reported by prison guard Jake Marshall at about twelve thirty. We were already en route to the prison, as a fire had been reported and there was a possibility that it was arson.”

“The murder took place during a fire?” the judge asked.

“Yes, Your Honour,” Edgeworth answered. “Kristoph Gavin lost consciousness at some point due to smoke inhalation, and is still receiving treatment…” He cast a sidelong look at Apollo. “…which is why he isn’t in court today.”

“Hmm,” the judge mused. “You know, I did wonder why he wasn’t in the dock.”

(And yet you never asked why he wasn’t here?) Apollo thought. He frowned suddenly. (Wait, what was that look for?!…oh, man, tell me I wasn’t supposed to explain Gavin’s absence at the start of the trial!)

“The prosecution enters Gavin’s medical report into evidence,” Edgeworth declared, smirking faintly at Apollo. The defence attorney slumped on the bench as he accepted his copy of the report from the bailiff. He flipped through it quickly. Kristoph was receiving treatment for smoke inhalation, a broken wrist – for which he was also prescribed heavy-duty painkillers – and bruising to his chest.

“Has the cause of the fire been determined, Detective Skye?” Edgeworth asked.

A slight blush crept into Ema’s cheeks when Edgeworth said her rank and name, making Apollo slump further.

“Not yet,” she replied. “However, the evidence uncovered so far seems to indicate an electrical fault.”

Edgeworth nodded absently, flipping quickly through the papers on the bench next to him.

“Since the defence will no doubt bring this up, we might as well get it out of the way now,” he declared. “When you arrived at the scene, it had already been altered, is that correct?”

“That’s right,” Ema replied. “The firefighters were the first people to enter the cell. Gavin was unconscious due to smoke inhalation, and they had to take him to the hospital wing of the prison, fast. The firefighters were also the ones who determined that Armando was dead.”

“I’m sure the pool of blood and scattered brain matter was proof enough,” Edgeworth remarked flippantly. “So when you arrived, Armando was the only one in the cell.”

“Yes,” Ema answered. “However, before the firefighters took Gavin to the hospital wing, they took a picture of the crime scene.”

A black and white photograph was projected on the screen beside her. There was a grainy quality to it, as if it had been taken through a night vision filter. The crime scene was exactly the same as it was when Apollo and Trucy had examined it the day before, except that Diego Armando’s body was propped against the toilet like a rag doll, the enamel stained with the same blood that was pooling around him. Kristoph lay on top of him, unconscious, his head on Armando’s chest and his hands draped limply on his shoulders.

An excited murmur ran around the gallery as the picture was displayed. Apollo noticed movement out of the corner of his eye, and looked up. A man in a purple shirt was moving as quickly and as unobtrusively as possible towards the exit, and as he disappeared out the door, Apollo realised it was Klavier Gavin.

(Can’t think about him now. I’ve got to find a contradiction in Ema’s testimony… and a way to lessen the impact of that picture.)

“Thank you, Detective Skye,” Edgeworth remarked.

“Mr. Justice,” the judge said, “you may begin your cross-examination.”

Apollo clenched his fists in determination, pointedly ignoring the faint, amused smile on Edgeworth’s face.

“Gladly, Your Honour!”

He listened intently as Ema began to recap her testimony, watching out for anything that conflicted with the court record.

“The murder was reported by prison guard Jake Marshall at about twelve thirty. We were already en route to the prison, as a fire had been reported and there was a possibility that it was arson.”

“Hold it!” Apollo shouted. He faltered a little as all eyes turned to him, but recovered and asked, “What time did you arrive?”

“Hmm…a little after twelve thirty-five,” Ema replied.

“Did you examine the crime scene right away?” Apollo pressed.

“No,” Ema replied. “We had to wait for the firefighters to put out the fire. They were just bringing it under control when we got there.”

“So you got your first look at the crime scene at…?” Apollo continued.

“About twelve forty-five,” Ema answered. “In the meantime we radioed for another forensics team to examine the scene of the fire while we dealt with the crime scene.”

“If Mr. Justice is satisfied as to the timeline,” Edgeworth remarked, “perhaps we could continue the cross-examination?”

“The crime scene was altered before we got there,” Ema continued. “The firefighters were the first people to enter the cell.”

“Hold it!” Apollo interrupted. “Were the firefighters the first people on the scene?”

“No,” Ema admitted. “The prison warden, Mr. Peace, was first on the scene. He was the one who discovered the murder.”

“You mean you lied just now?” Apollo said quickly.

“No,” Ema said testily, and Apollo had no doubt that if food was allowed in the courtroom, a Snackoo or several would’ve been thrown in his direction. “Peace was the first on the scene, but he didn’t enter the cell. The firefighters were the first to enter.”

“Words mean things, Mr. Justice,” Edgeworth said dryly. “Please pay attention.”

Apollo shot him a dirty look.

“Gavin was unconscious due to smoke inhalation,” Ema went on, “and they had to take him to the hospital wing, fast. But first they took a picture of the crime scene.”

“Objection!”

Ema, the judge and Trucy all looked at Apollo in surprise. Only Edgeworth seemed unruffled, his only reaction a slightly raised eyebrow.

“Something’s wrong with this picture,” Apollo declared, pointing to the blown-up photo. He stepped out from behind the defence bench and pointed to Kristoph’s hands on Armando’s shoulders. “Gavin wasn’t just suffering from smoke inhalation when he was brought to the hospital wing. He had a broken wrist!”

Excited murmurings broke out in the gallery for the second time that morning. Ema drew in a breath sharply, one hand pressed against her cheek.

“That’s right!” she said. “Gavin’s left wrist was broken when he arrived at the hospital wing.”

The judge blinked. “I’m afraid I don’t follow, Mr. Justice.”

“It’s simple, Your Honour,” Apollo explained. “Gavin’s wrist wasn’t broken before lockdown that night. When he was brought to the hospital wing, it was. So either the firefighters dropped him on the way there, breaking his wrist…or, it was already broken when this picture was taken!”

The judge looked as confused as ever, but Edgeworth appeared a little more uneasy than before. Apollo couldn’t hold back a smirk of triumph.

“How could Gavin have brutally beaten Armando to death if he had a broken wrist?”

“Objection!” Edgeworth slammed his hand down on the prosecutor’s bench. “Read your court record, Justice. It’s obvious from both Armando’s and Gavin’s injuries that there was a struggle!”

“So you’re saying Armando had the strength to break Gavin’s wrist, but was so weak that Gavin managed to overpower him, and smash his head into the toilet bowl with one hand?!” Apollo shot back.

The judge banged his gavel twice and called for order as the murmurs from the gallery grew louder.

“Mr. Justice,” he said, gazing at the young attorney sternly. “Do you have a theory that explains this alleged contradiction?” As Apollo opened his mouth, the judge reminded him, “If you cannot present evidence to prove it, you will earn a penalty.”

Apollo closed his mouth, slumping on the bench. “No, Your Honour.”

“Very well,” the judge said. “Detective Skye, please continue.”

Ema concluded her testimony by restating that the firefighters had determined that Armando was dead. Apollo didn’t press her. (I know Gavin’s broken wrist is significant. I just don’t know the exact details yet.) He looked across the room at Edgeworth, cleaning his glasses as he excused Ema from the witness stand.

“I hate him too,” Trucy whispered.

 “I guess your Daddy really meant it when he said Edgeworth wouldn’t help us,” Apollo murmured back. “He brushed that contradiction off because he knew we had nothing to back it up.”

“Then next time we’ll have to make sure we have evidence,” Trucy replied, a determined look on her face. “Something even Mr. Edgeworth can’t ignore.”

“If the defence has finished conferring,” Edgeworth remarked dryly, “the prosecution would like to call its next witness.”

Apollo straightened up and quickly composed himself. “The defence is ready to proceed.” (Bring it on!)

Chapter Text

The warden cut an imposing figure, towering over the witness stand in a dark suit that just about fit his shoulders. Apollo fixed him with a steely stare. The man was hiding something – he just had to find out what.

“Witness, your name and occupation, please,” Edgeworth said.

“Stanford Peace,” the warden answered. “I’m the warden at the State Penitentiary.”

“Warden Peace,” Edgeworth continued, “would you please tell the court exactly how you discovered the crime scene?”

The warden smiled at the prosecutor and nodded.

“On the night in question I was in the surveillance room,” he began. “The guard who was supposed to be on duty had called in sick. About quarter past midnight, Officer Jake Marshall came in and told me there was a fire in the laundry room on A Wing. He called the fire brigade at that time.”

Edgeworth picked a few sheets of paper off the bench beside him. “The prosecution enters into evidence transcripts of the 911 calls made from the prison on the seventeenth of May.”

Apollo glanced at his copy of the transcripts. The calls seemed perfectly normal, and the timestamps measured up with the warden’s story – a call to the fire brigade at 00:15, and a later one to the police at 00:31.

“Please continue with your testimony,” Edgeworth told the warden.

“I attempted to open the cells on A Wing remotely with the automatic release button in the surveillance room,” Peace went on, “but it wasn’t working.” He eyed Apollo and explained, “It lights up and a buzzer sounds if it activates successfully.”

“He didn’t mention that yesterday,” Trucy whispered. She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “And I was wondering how he knew the automatic release didn’t work if the camera near the cells wasn’t working.”

“Not to mention that he’s giving us the evil eye, when neither of us mentioned that,” Apollo murmured back. “Something funny’s going on here.”

“As the fire officer, I put on fireproof clothing and breathing apparatus and went to A Wing to release the cell doors manually,” Peace continued. “The manual release is right beside Armando and Gavin’s cell. That was when I made out two figures lying on the floor. There was a big pool of blood underneath them – it was pretty clear Armando was dead.”

“So you returned to the surveillance room and called the police,” Edgeworth finished, “correct?”

“Yes sir, that’s correct,” Peace concluded.

“His story seems pretty airtight,” Trucy remarked quietly.

“Yeah,” Apollo murmured thoughtfully. “But there’s just one thing that doesn’t fit.”

“Sounds like you’re onto something, Polly!” Trucy said with a grin.

Apollo took a deep breath and let it out. “I hope so.”

“Mr. Justice,” the judge remarked, “you may begin your cross-examination.”

Peace began to recap his testimony. Apollo listened quietly until the warden said,

“I put on fireproof clothing and breathing apparatus and went to A Wing to release the cell doors manually.”

“Hold it!” Apollo shouted. “What route did you take to the cells?”

Peace looked a little surprised. “Let’s see now… I had to go down the corridor, through a security door, down another corridor, up a flight of stairs, another corridor, another security door, and then along one more corridor to get to the release.”

“How long did that take you?”

“Seven minutes,” Peace replied without hesitating.

Apollo stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Seven minutes…that’s a very exact figure,” he remarked. “How can you be sure?”

“I always wear a digital watch, son,” the warden answered. He hitched up his sleeve and held it up to show the court. “Always gives the exact time. It read zero sixteen when I left the surveillance room and zero twenty-three when I got up to the cells.”

Apollo slumped a little on the bench. (Can’t argue with that, I guess. Not when the times of the 911 calls corroborate his story.) “Th…thank you. Please carry on.”

“The manual release is right beside Armando and Gavin’s cell,” the warden continued.

“Hold it!” Apollo yelled again. “Could anyone else have activated the release mechanism?”

“No,” Peace replied. “Only I and the deputy wardens have the codes – and neither of them were present that night.”

“The deputy wardens weren’t scheduled to work that night?” Apollo asked. He narrowed his eyes as he gazed at the witness. “It’s a good thing you were there unexpectedly, wasn’t it?”

Edgeworth slammed his hand on the bench. “Objection!”

“I withdraw the question,” Apollo said, before the judge could reach for his gavel.

“Witness,” Edgeworth remarked, glaring daggers at Apollo, “please continue your testimony.”

“I made out two figures lying on the floor of Armando and Gavin’s cell,” Peace went on. “There was a big pool of blood underneath them – it was pretty clear Armando was dead. I immediately returned to the surveillance room and called the police.”

(Gotcha!)

“Objection!”

Apollo directed a sharp stare at the witness. Peace gazed back, unconcerned.

“Something wrong, son?” the warden asked.

“Warden,” Apollo said, “you said just now that after discovering the crime scene, you returned immediately to the surveillance room.”

“That’s right,” Peace answered with a smile.

“You didn’t enter the cell?”

“No,” Peace replied.

“So,” Apollo continued, “this –” he pointed to the screens still displaying the crime scene photo “- is what you saw in the cell?”

“Yes,” Peace answered, somewhat impatiently. “Son, is this going somewhe-”

“You’re lying,” Apollo interrupted flatly.

The warden gripped the edges of the witness stand and leaned forward, his face turning red. “WHAT?”

“It’s simple,” Apollo replied with a smirk. “This picture was taken by a member of the fire brigade before they entered the cell and took Gavin to the hospital wing for treatment. But look…” He pointed to the clean patch on the top bunk, the same one he’d asked Ema about the day before. “This area here is free of soot…and it’s just the size of a human hand.” Apollo pointed dramatically at the warden. “If it wasn’t made by a firefighter, it must have been made by you!”

“Objection!” Edgeworth snapped, slamming his hand on the bench. “That print could have been left by Armando or Gavin!”

“That’s impossible,” Apollo countered. “The patch was tested for fingerprints and none were found.”

The judge blinked owlishly in confusion. “But, Mr. Justice, how can you be so sure the warden made that print?”

“Because the court heard just a moment ago that he was wearing fireproof clothing,” Apollo replied. He directed his gaze at the warden, and couldn’t help feeling smug at how rattled Edgeworth looked at the other side of the courtroom. “Warden Peace…did your personal protective equipment include gloves?”

He could see the man considering his answer. Apollo realised suddenly that he couldn’t prove Peace had worn gloves that night. (I just gotta hope he doesn’t call my bluff. Damn it, why didn’t I let Wright teach me how to play poker?)

“…Yes,” Peace replied at last. He squeezed and relaxed his fingers nervously on the edge of the witness stand. “Now that I think about it, I did go a couple of steps into the cell. I, ah…I may have touched the bunk there without meaning to.”

Edgeworth removed his glasses and cleaned them rather forcefully with his handkerchief. “The witness will please add that to his testimony,” he clipped off sharply.

“Yes, sir,” the warden answered. He looked at Apollo. “I went a couple of steps into the cell, and touched the top bunkbed without thinking about it.”

“Objection!”

This time, Peace wore a guarded expression as he gazed suspiciously at Apollo.

“You didn’t notice anything strange about the bunk?” Apollo asked.

Peace’s face was beginning to go red again. “No,” he growled.

“Really?” Apollo replied. “What about the blood?”

“What?!” Edgeworth asked sharply.

“I took the liberty of spraying luminol around the crime scene yesterday,” Apollo explained. He passed copies of the photograph Trucy had taken to the bailiff. “There’s blood splatter right here on the clean patch of the bunk bed.” He turned to the warden. “If it wasn’t there before you put your hand on it…” He leaned forward suddenly and pointed at the witness stand. “…then maybe it was on your hand before you touched the bunk!”

The gallery erupted in excited murmurings, Edgeworth wished he had the power to dock Ema’s wages for not telling him this important detail, and Warden Peace’s expression grew positively murderous.

The judge banged his gavel for order. “Witness, please answer the defence’s accusation.”

Peace directed a glower at the judge, then turned back to Apollo.

“All right, I admit it –”

Apollo was stunned. (What, really? This has gotta be a new record –)

“- I moved the bunk beds,” Peace finished.

Edgeworth recoiled in shock. “You did what?!”

“When I entered the cell the bunks had fallen over,” Peace replied, speaking a little louder than he had previously. “They were on top of Gavin and Armando – that must be how the blood got there. I lifted ’em up to see if the prisoners were alive, that’s all!”

“And you didn’t mention this before?!” Edgeworth exclaimed, hunched over the bench.

“What goddamn difference does it make?!” Peace snapped, turning his anger on the prosecutor. “Armando was dead, Gavin was on top of him –” His whole head was red now, and he jabbed a finger at Edgeworth for emphasis. “ – that scumbag had killed again on my watch!”

Edgeworth had regained some composure as a result of being shouted at, and slammed the bench in front of him. “Witness, control yourself –”

“How do we know Gavin killed Armando?” Apollo broke in. “How do we know you didn’t kill him after you entered the cell?”

“When the hell would I have had the time to do that?!” Peace shouted incredulously. “I already told you it took me seven minutes to get up there, seven minutes back! We called the police at twelve thirty, you can ask Jake Marshall if you don’t believe me -”

The judge pounded his gavel repeatedly.

“Order!” he exclaimed. “Order in my courtroom.”

The gallery fell silent, and the judge gazed sternly at the witness. “Mr. Peace. It is not up to you to decide what evidence makes ‘a god damned difference’. From now on you will tell the whole truth.”

“Yes, Your Honour,” Peace answered sourly.

The judge turned his gaze on Apollo.

“Mr. Justice. Do you have any evidence that Mr. Peace could have murdered the victim?”

Apollo reviewed the court record quickly. The timeline was too tight, unless Peace was lying about how long it took him to reach A Wing…but he had no proof of that, either. “No, Your Honour.”

“Do you have any further questions for this witness?” the judge asked.

Apollo and Trucy exchanged glances.

“You buy his story about the blood splatter?” Trucy asked quietly.

Apollo shrugged. “It’s plausible,” he admitted. “And I guess if he did kill Armando, Peace would’ve had blood all over him.” He stood up straight again. “No further questions, Your Honour.”

“Mr. Edgeworth,” the judge continued, turning to the prosecution bench, “do you have any further remarks?”

Edgeworth was cleaning his glasses again. “Ah…no, Your Honour.”

The judge directed a final stern glance at the warden. “Then the witness is excused.”

Peace stepped down from behind the witness stand, glaring at Apollo as he passed him by.

“I guess we can’t count on his co-operation any more,” Trucy remarked sadly.

“Yeah,” Apollo murmured back. “And something tells me we’ll need to talk to him again.”

“Hey, cheer up, Polly!” Trucy said, punching him lightly in the arm. “At least you managed to rattle Mr. Edgeworth.”

Apollo glanced across at the magenta-clad prosecutor and gave a grin. “Yeah, that did feel good,” he admitted. “But this trial’s not over yet, and I’m gonna have to do a lot more than rattle him to win.”

Chapter Text

The judge banged his gavel once, silencing the murmurs that had begun again as the warden was escorted from the courtroom.

“Mr. Edgeworth,” he said, “does the prosecution have any further witnesses?”

Composed and unflappable once again, Edgeworth replied, “Yes, Your Honour. The prosecution has an eye-witness to this crime.”

(Just one, huh?) Apollo leaned forward, both fists on the bench. If Edgeworth didn’t call Crescend, then Apollo would.

“You do?” the judge asked in surprise. “Well why didn’t you call him right away? I know I would have.”

Edgeworth cleaned his glasses, masking his impatience. “The prosecution calls Rowdy Kitaki.”

The courtroom doors opened and two bailiffs led Rowdy to the witness stand. As he passed the defence bench, Apollo realised this was his first good look at him. Rowdy was short and scrappy, and his black and white striped jumpsuit was a little too big for him. Apollo smirked briefly as his earlier hunch proved correct – Rowdy did have his own name shaved into the back of his hair. The way he strutted along, head up, scowling, reminded Apollo of his cousin Wocky. The young attorney was suddenly very glad that this Kitaki was the prosecution’s problem.

“Witness,” Edgeworth began, “please state your name and occupation –”

“ROW-DAY, back in the heee-youse!” Rowdy shouted. “Feels good to be in the witness box, yo, my punk-ass honky lawyer wouldn’t put me on the stand.” He threw some gang signs. “Gonna have my say, today.”

“Very well,” Edgeworth remarked irritably, “you are Mr. Rowdy Kitaki, prisoner 02475, currently incarcerated at the State Penitentiary, serving a life sentence for second degree murder.” He paused, fixing Kitaki with a stern stare. “A yes or no answer will suffice.”

“Yeah,” Rowdy answered, frowning at the prosecutor.

“And you are how old?” Edgeworth asked, leafing through his court record.

“Gonna turn the big two-one in August,” Rowdy answered proudly.

“Mm.” Edgeworth looked up again. “What a waste.” Before Rowdy could react, he continued, “Mr. Kitaki, you occupied a cell diagonally opposite to the crime scene, correct?”

“Yeah man, that’s right,” Rowdy answered. He put his hands on the witness stand and pushed himself up on his arms. “And I saw everything, you got that? EVERYTHING. And I saw that honky KILL MY BEST FRIEND!”

The judge banged his gavel as the gallery began to murmur.

“Witness!” he admonished sternly. “There’s no need to shout. I have my hearing aid turned on.” He directed his attention to the prosecution bench. “Mr. Edgeworth… I’m a little confused –”

(There’s a surprise.) Apollo flinched as Trucy elbowed him.

“Polly!” she hissed. “You said that out loud!”

Apollo stared at her in shock, his face starting to redden. Trucy grinned at him teasingly. “Don’t worry,” she assured him, “it only came out in a whisper. Just be more careful, huh?”

Apollo nodded, breathing a sigh of relief, and turned his attention back to the judge.

“- why aren’t we hearing testimony from the prisoners in the cell directly opposite the crime scene?”

“Because there isn’t one, Your Honour,” Edgeworth answered. On cue, the screens in the courtroom displayed an overhead map of the crime scene and surrounding cells. “The stairwell was directly opposite Armando and Gavin’s cell,” Edgeworth explained, pointing it out. “The cell next to the stairwell - Kitaki’s cell - was the only one with a view of the crime scene.”

“Come oooon!” Rowdy whined, banging his fists on the witness stand. “I got crucial 411 on this case! I saw who smoked my homie!”

“Indeed,” Edgeworth replied, a small smile briefly crossing his face. “Mr. Kitaki, please tell the court, in your own words, exactly what you saw on the night of May 17^th.”

“Yo, this is how it went down,” Rowdy replied, emphasising how serious he was by making devil signs at the witness stand. “I was chilling in the pen, when all of a sudden BAM! Smoke, noise, whole world’s coming to an end! So I roll outta the cot, look over to see how my main man’s doing…” He paused for dramatic effect. “And that’s when I saw it.” Rowdy’s face twisted in anger and he took a deep breath. “I saw Gavin KILL Diego! BAM, smashed his head in like an overripe grape, brah, brains EVERYWHERE.” Rowdy jabbed the air for emphasis. “He’s going down, brah, he better pray y’all find him guilty, you’d better ALL pray.”

“Gee, I wonder why his attorney wouldn’t let him testify at his murder trial,” Apollo whispered sarcastically.

“Mr. Kitaki,” Edgeworth remarked, “it’s generally not a good idea to make threats in open court.”

“Who said it was a threat?!” Rowdy shot back.

Edgeworth smirked slightly and declined to answer. He looked over at Apollo. “Your witness.”

“You know, Mr. Crescend said that Rowdy would lie,” Trucy remarked quietly, “but that story sounded pretty plausible.”

“Yeah,” Apollo replied, “because it’s nice and vague. Let’s see what happens when I ask him exactly what he saw.” He straightened up and addressed the witness. “Mr. Kitaki, could you please repeat your testimony?”

“Sure,” Rowdy answered, a slight sneer on his lips. “I don’t mind telling it again. I’ll tell it TEN TIMES till this punk-ass jury sends Gavin to the hole for the rest of his natural life.” He directed a scowl at the gallery, cracked his knuckles, and continued. “I was chilling in the pen, when all of a sudden BAM! Smoke, noise, whole world’s coming to an end!”

“Hold it!” Apollo shouted. “You said there was smoke, so the fire had already started. What was the noise?”

Rowdy snorted derisively. “Fire alarm. What, were you educated stupid at your fancy lawyer school, brah?”

Apollo ignored the crack, and continued. “And when you say ‘the whole world was coming to an end’, you mean it was very loud?”

“Man,” Rowdy answered, throwing more gang signs, “ain’t just the noise, I’m talking ’bout the whole experience! Thick black smoke everywhere, smelled like – like burning something – it was all Dante up in there, brah, I thought we were gonna DIE!” He scowled. “Turns out only one of us did…and not ’cause of the fire.”

“Your Honour, the defence requests the witness add the details about the fire alarm and the thick black smoke to his testimony,” Apollo said.

The judge nodded. “Witness, please continue.”

Rowdy rolled his eyes, but did as he was told. “There was thick black smoke everywhere, fire alarm was going off – I thought we were gonna DIE! So I roll outta the cot, look over to see how my main man’s doing… And that’s when I saw it. I saw Gavin KILL Diego!”

“Hold it!” Apollo interrupted. “What exactly did you see?”

“I just told you!” Rowdy shouted back. “I gotta draw you a picture now, brah?”

“You did tell us,” Apollo conceded, “but I was wondering if you could give us any more details.” He eyed Rowdy carefully – the gangster wannabe was practically bouncing up and down. “How exactly did Gavin kill Armando? Did you see what they were doing right before the murder?” Rowdy’s brow creased in either puzzlement or concentration. Apollo pressed a little harder. “You…did see the murder, right?”

Rowdy pounced on his words immediately.

“You callin’ me a liar, brah?!” he yelled. “Course I saw it! I saw EVERYTHING! They were arguing, see? Then suddenly Gavin jumps off his bunk, yells he’s gonna kill Diego, and BAM! Kills him with the toilet! Cold-blooded, brah, cold. Blooded.”

“Those seem like very important details, witness,” the judge remarked. “Add them to your testimony at once!”

Rowdy shot the judge with his finger. “Sure thing, Your Honour.” He stared defiantly at Apollo. “They were arguing, see? Then Gavin jumped down off his bunk, yelling that he was gonna kill Diego, and BAM! Smashed his head in against the toilet seat.”

“Objection!”

Apollo shook his head slightly, unable to keep the smile completely from his face.

“Mr. Kitaki, you’ve referred to the victim as your best friend, your main man…” Apollo glanced back over the court transcript. “…so you want justice for him, right?”

“Hell yeah!” Rowdy replied, getting fired up again.

“Then you have to stop lying,” Apollo said sternly.

“You BETTER not call me a LIAR, brah!” Rowdy shouted, smacking his fists against the witness stand. “Yo, prosecution brah! Make him stop calling me a liar!”

Edgeworth crossed his arms.

“I’m sure Mr. Justice has evidence to back up this assertion,” he remarked, “unless he wants to earn a penalty.”

Apollo smirked across the courtroom.

“Mr. Kitaki, I was in your cell yesterday,” he said. “And while we were there, my assistant took these pictures.” He handed copies of the photograph to the bailiff, who passed them to Edgeworth and the judge. “As you can see…” Apollo paused while the same picture was projected onto the screens. “…it’s physically impossible to see the bunks in Armando and Gavin’s cell.” He pointed accusingly at Rowdy. “There’s no way you could have seen Gavin jump from his bunk!”

“I…I –” For the first time since taking the stand, Rowdy was speechless.

“In fact,” Apollo pressed, “you can barely see the toilet bowl from your cell!”

“…SO?!” Rowdy blustered. “So I – I still heard them argue! I heard Gavin threaten Diego!”

“You told us a moment ago the fire alarm was going off,” Apollo shot back. “You described it as ‘the whole world coming to an end’. How could you have heard anything over that?”

Rowdy’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he turned and looked wildly at Edgeworth, silently pleading for assistance. The prosecutor remained unmoved.

“Mr. Kitaki, the story you’ve just spun is substantially different from what you told me when I spoke to you in the hospital,” Edgeworth remarked. “Now I’ll make this simple for you – did you actually see the murder take place?”

Rowdy glowered at the polished wood of the witness stand for several seconds, then visibly bristled before bursting out,

“NO! NO, OKAY?!” He sounded almost teary. “I just saw Diego lying there dead.” He glared at Apollo and snarled, “But I KNOW Gavin did it, and if y’all don’t convict him, I’mma SMOKE HIS ASS!” He made a gun shape with his fingers and waved it around. “Glock Glock, East Coast style!”

“Do you think Rowdy knows we’re on the west coast?” Trucy whispered.

Apollo shook his head. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he claims Blues membership while listening to Reds-affiliated rappers.” Trucy frowned at him in puzzlement and he said hastily, “I’ll explain later.”

The judge banged his gavel. “This witness is excused,” he said testily. “Bailiffs, get him out of here.”

“No!” Rowdy shouted. He clung to the witness stand. “NO WAY! I’mma have my say, brah!” The bailiffs grabbed him under his arms and began to half-drag, half-carry him out. Rowdy pointed his finger gun at the gallery on the way. “You better convict! Y’all better convict!”

The courtroom doors shut behind him, and the judge directed a glare at the prosecution.

“Mr. Edgeworth,” he said sternly, “the court demands an explanation for the conduct of this witness.”

“Your Honour, the prosecution apologises and begs a little leeway from the court,” Edgeworth replied. “I had only a short amount of time to prepare for this case, and had I known Mr. Kitaki was so prone to exaggeration, naturally I would not have called him.”

The judge nodded. “Very well, Mr. Edgeworth. The court will overlook your error…this time.”

Apollo clenched his fists on the bench. (If I’d done that, I’d have picked up a huge penalty by now…!)

“Does the prosecution have any further witnesses?” the judge asked.

Apollo leaned forward. (This is it…!)

“Hmm…” Edgeworth flipped quickly through his paperwork. The bailiff approached and discreetly handed him a thin folder. Edgeworth glanced through it, and looked up. “Ah, Your Honour, I’ve just received a preliminary report from the forensics team investigating the fire that occurred on the night of May 17th,” he explained. “It seems it was caused by an electrical fault and is not connected with the murder.” He directed the bailiff to hand copies of the report to the judge and to Apollo.

The judge gave the report a cursory glance, happy to take the prosecution’s word for its contents. “But you have no further witnesses?”

“No, Your Honour.”

“Objection!” Apollo shouted.

The judge blinked owlishly. “Mr. Justice?”

“Your Honour, the prosecution should have another witness,” Apollo explained. He folded his arms and smirked at Edgeworth. “But then, maybe old habits die hard.”

Edgeworth slammed his hand on the bench, his face as black as thunder.

“You’re coming dangerously close to slander, Justice,” he spat.

“Oh really?” Apollo shot back. “Then why aren’t you calling the other eyewitness to this murder – Rowdy Kitaki’s cellmate, Daryan Crescend?”

Edgeworth’s angry expression faded to a smug smirk, but before he could say anything, the judge interrupted, “Is this true, Mr. Edgeworth? Is there another eyewitness?”

Edgeworth composed himself and cleared his throat. “Yes, Your Honour. Mr. Crescend claims to have witnessed the crime. However, I felt he was…an unreliable witness.”

“While, of course, Mr. Kitaki was a paragon of reliability,” Apollo interjected sarcastically.

The smug smirk reappeared on Edgeworth’s face. “If the defence wishes to call Daryan Crescend to the stand, the prosecution has no objections.”

“I just think the court should hear every piece of evidence,” Apollo replied. “I guess I’m funny that way.”

Edgeworth’s smirk dimmed a little, but he didn’t reply.

“Well, I’m funny that way too,” the judge declared, and pounded his gavel. “Mr. Justice, please call your witness.”

Chapter Text

Just like Rowdy, Daryan had two bailiffs escort him into the courtroom, one on either side. Trucy fidgeted as Daryan got behind the witness stand.

“Polly, don’t you think it’s funny that Mr. Crescend’s in court today when Mr. Edgeworth just said he wasn’t gonna call him?” she whispered.

“Crescend said yesterday that Edgeworth told him to be here just in case,” Apollo whispered back. He saw the look of concern on her face, and assured her, “Don’t worry. His testimony is gonna turn this whole thing around.”

Daryan was staring up at the gallery, as if searching for something.

“Witness, your name and occupation, please,” Edgeworth remarked.

The former detective didn’t react, and Edgeworth had to repeat the question. Daryan tore his gaze away and cleared his throat.

“I’m Daryan Crescend,” he replied. He shifted uncomfortably, and continued, “Prisoner 02543, serving time for –” He licked his lips nervously. “- for first degree murder, smuggling, and conspiracy to pervert the course of justice.”

“Mr. Crescend,” Edgeworth said, “we have already heard that you occupied the same cell as Rowdy Kitaki,” he indicated the cell in question on the screens, “who gave evidence a moment ago concerning what he saw in the early hours of May 17^th.” He cast a withering look across the courtroom. “The defence insists you do the same.”

The ghost of a smirk appeared briefly on Daryan’s face as he glanced at Apollo and Trucy. “I had a feeling they would.” He swept his bangs out of his face with one swift sweep of his hand. “Here’s what I saw.

“When the fire alarm woke us up, there was smoke everywhere. I started rattling the cell door, trying to get it to open. I saw Armando across the way, trying the same thing. Then suddenly, he whipped around to the left, and lunged at something. He went outta sight for a few seconds, then I saw him falling. Then…” Daryan shrugged. “…nothing. No more movement. I passed out a few minutes later.”

“So you didn’t see the defendant at all?” the judge asked. “That’s very peculiar!” He frowned at Daryan. “Are you telling the truth?”

“Well, Your Honour –”

“Your Honour,” Edgeworth interrupted smoothly, “I’m sure if Mr. Crescend’s testimony contains any contradictions, Mr. Justice will find them.” He smirked at the defence team. “We’ve all heard how he feels about exposing every piece of evidence.”

Apollo slammed his fists on the bench and glared at the prosecutor.

“Quite true,” the judge replied. “Mr. Justice, you may begin your cross-examination.”

“When the fire alarm woke us up,” Daryan recapped, “there was smoke everywhere.”

“Hold it!” Apollo yelled. “With all that smoke, it must’ve been pretty dark up there.”

Daryan snorted. “You’re pretty sharp, huh kid.” He swept his hand through his bangs again and continued. “Yeah, it was pretty dark. The lights were off, too. Mind if I continue my testimony now?”

“Not at all,” Apollo grumbled.

“Thanks,” Daryan replied, shooting Apollo with his finger. “I started rattling the cell door, trying to get it to open. I saw Armando across the way, trying the same thing.”

“Hold it! How could you see him?” Apollo asked. “You just testified that it was dark.”

“I saw his visor,” Daryan answered. “It had three glowing red lights at the front.”

“So when you say you saw Armando, what you really saw were these red lights, moving,” Apollo replied.

“That’s right,” Daryan said. “I’d seen them a lot over the past six weeks. There was no-one else it could’ve been.” He continued. “Then suddenly, he whipped around to the left, and lunged at something.”

“Hold it!” Apollo interrupted. “When you say ‘to the left’, you mean, your left?”

“Yeah,” Daryan replied, clarifying, “towards the bunks.”

(This is it. This is where I turn this whole thing upside down.) “In what direction did Armando lunge?”

Daryan frowned slightly. “I guess…sorta up.” He gestured with his hand. “Like he was going for someone on the top bunk.”

“Objection!” Edgeworth said, slamming his hand on the bench. “The witness is speculating!”

“Quite so,” the judge agreed. “Witness, please restrict your testimony to what you saw, not what you believe happened.”

Daryan shot the judge a dirty look, but nodded.

“He turned to the left, then lunged forward and up,” he amended, “in the direction of the top bunk.”

“Do you know which bunk Armando slept in?” Apollo asked innocently.

Daryan shook his head. “No,” he admitted. “But I’d guess bottom. The guy didn’t move so good.”

“So it’s unlikely he was jumping back into bed,” Apollo commented. As Edgeworth shouted, “Objection!”, Apollo lifted a hand and said quickly, “Withdrawn.”

Edgeworth glowered at Apollo, and snapped, “Witness, continue your testimony.”

“He went outta sight for a few seconds, then I saw him falling. Then…nothing. No more movement,” Daryan finished. “I passed out a few minutes later.”

“Hold it! Did you see Mr. Gavin at any time?” Apollo asked.

“No,” Daryan said. “Like I told you, it was dark. I only saw Armando because of his visor.”

“Did the movement of his visor suggest any kind of struggle?” Apollo asked.

“No,” Daryan replied. “He fell.” He shrugged. “Look, I don’t know for sure. I can’t see much of that cell at the best of times. But the way they say it happened…” He shook his head. “It just doesn’t fit. If you knew these guys…” He trailed off, and continued, “…I mean, they’re both nuts, but Armando was angry-nuts.”

Apollo glanced over at Edgeworth, expecting him to object to more speculation, but the prosecutor was busy cleaning his glasses. He licked his lips and decided to take a chance. After all, regardless of what the prosecutor or the judge might say, it was impossible to unring a bell.

“You’re saying that in your opinion…” But he didn’t get the question out before Daryan interrupted with,

“If anyone attacked anyone that night, it was Armando, not Kris.”

“Objection.”

Edgeworth smiled faintly as all eyes fell on him. “Mr. Crescend, could you repeat that last statement, please?”

Daryan eyed him suspiciously. “I said, if anyone attacked anyone that night, it was Armando, not Gavin.”

“Indeed.” Edgeworth pointed at the witness. “Mr. Crescend, you were a police detective prior to your incarceration, correct?”

“That’s right,” Daryan answered, a certain wariness creeping into his voice.

“It’s often quite difficult for those who were previously in law enforcement when they find themselves on the other side of the bars,” Edgeworth remarked. His mouth twitched upwards in a brief smirk. “I’ve had that very special experience, albeit briefly.”

“Yeah,” Daryan replied. “It’s no picnic.”

“And yet,” Edgeworth remarked, picking up a file from his bench, “so far, your criminal peers appear to have left you alone.” He adjusted his glasses and flipped through the file. “Your medical records show you’ve only been physically assaulted once…shortly after you arrived.” He handed two other files to the bailiff, who passed them to the judge and to Apollo. “Another inmate beat you quite savagely with a plastic lunch tray.” He fixed Daryan with a steely stare. “Would you please tell the court who that prisoner was?”

Daryan swallowed and began to sweat.

“…Diego Armando.”

“Objection!” Apollo shouted. “Your Honour, is any of this relevant?”

“You don’t think it’s relevant that, in light of his testimony, this witness was once assaulted by the victim?” Edgeworth asked. “A man the witness claims was the instigator of the struggle that led to his own death?”

Apollo ran a sweaty hand through his hair. “Well…when you put it like that…”

“I certainly think it’s relevant,” the judge declared. “Please continue, Mr. Edgeworth.”

“Thank you, Your Honour,” Edgeworth replied. He flipped through the file again. “Mr. Crescend, I must congratulate you – your disciplinary record is spotless. Except…for this one charge of smuggling contraband into prison.”

“Objection!” Apollo protested.

“Mr. Edgeworth,” the judge remarked, “I must ask you to get to the point...”

“Thank you, Your Honour,” Apollo said.

“…otherwise the defence will keep interrupting,” the judge continued, “and I’ll be late for my swimming lesson.”

Apollo slumped.

“Certainly, Your Honour.” Edgeworth slid his glasses off his face and folded the handles down with a click. “In the case of State vs. Misham, crucial evidence was submitted using the MASON system. That evidence showed that Kristoph Gavin was receiving unusual treatment in prison. He was permitted to wear his own clothes, housed in his own cell, had his own furniture, several books…” He locked eyes with Daryan. “Such things suggest a certain influence with the prison guards.”

Apollo felt the colour drain from his face as he suddenly realised where Edgeworth was heading with this.

“Mr. Gavin also remains unharmed by his criminal peers,” Edgeworth continued. “The circumstantial evidence indicates that Gavin enjoyed special protection afforded him by the guards. In fact, six weeks ago, the prison warden fired a number of the guards, and moved several others so that they would no longer have contact with Kristoph Gavin for long periods of time.”

He passed two familiar-looking documents to the bailiff, who handed them to Apollo and the judge. Apollo recognised his copy as the list Trucy had found in the warden’s office the previous day, showing the new schedule for the prison guards and new cell assignments for the prisoners. The last page listed three guards who had been fired for corruption.

“This, uh, this going anywhere?” Daryan croaked, struggling to keep his cool.

“Perhaps Gavin extended his special protection to certain prisoners,” Edgeworth remarked, “in exchange for certain…favours. Such as smuggling contraband.”

Daryan was sweating profusely now, clinging to the witness stand.

“Mr. Crescend,” Edgeworth remarked, staring him down, “what is the exact nature of your relationship with the defendant, Kristoph Gavin?”

“O-Objection!” Apollo interrupted. “You’ve got no proof that –”

“Then the witness won’t have any trouble answering,” Edgeworth cut in. “Mr. Crescend, please feel free to prove my hypothesis wrong.”

“N-nothing!” Daryan insisted. “He’s my – my friend’s brother! That’s all! I – I never hung out with him before – or ever! I swear!”

Apollo stared at him, his bracelet vibrating so much he could feel it all the way in his fingertips. Suddenly he saw red, and banged his fists on the bench.

“You’re lying!” he shouted across the courtroom.

“It’s customary to say ‘Objection’ before interrupting,” Edgeworth remarked, but Apollo ignored him. He pointed accusingly at Daryan.

“You know you can’t hide anything from me – tell the TRUTH!”

Daryan looked at him pleadingly. “I…can’t!”

“You’re refusing to testify?” the judge asked.

“I…” Daryan looked up at him, Adam’s apple moving as he gulped nervously. “…I refuse to testify on the grounds that…” He licked his lips. “…that my life won’t be worth living if I do.”

“Polly, do something!” Trucy hissed. “The judge is gonna throw Mr. Crescend’s testimony out if you don’t!”

“Your Honour!” Apollo shouted desperately. “The defence requests a brief recess to confer with our witness!”

“The prosecution has no objections,” Edgeworth declared, smirking openly now.

The judge reached for his gavel.

“A very brief recess, Mr. Justice,” he warned. “Court will take a short recess, and reconvene in ten minutes.” He directed stern looks at Daryan and Apollo, and banged the gavel.

The courtroom filled with the low hum of voices as the public filed out of the gallery. Daryan stumbled off the witness stand and was escorted out by the bailiffs. But all Apollo could see was the broad smirk on Edgeworth’s face as he strode briskly out of the courtroom to the Prosecution Lobby.

Chapter Text

May 19

Defendant Lobby No. 3

11.50 AM

Apollo strode up and down the defendant lobby, clenching his fists in his hair.

“Calm down, Polly,” Trucy urged. “We can find a way around this, I know we can!”

Apollo stopped, slowly let go of his hair, and shook his head slightly.

“He knew,” he said simply. “He knew I’d call Crescend to rebut Kitaki’s testimony. And he knew Crescend was unreliable.”

Trucy grimaced at Apollo’s expression. She was considering pulling out Mr. Hat to cheer him up, when Daryan arrived in the defendant lobby. The bailiffs escorting him took up positions at the exits to the room.

Apollo rounded on the former detective, his anger barely in check.

“We were kinda relying on your testimony in there,” he said tightly. “Would’ve been nice of you to warn me you were in Gavin’s pocket.”

Daryan snorted, glaring right back at him. “Look kid, you don’t know what it’s like for ex-cops on the inside.”

Apollo folded his arms. “So tell me. Everything.”

Daryan swept a hand through his hair and glanced around furtively, before stepping closer and lowering his voice.

“Look, that cocoon smuggling operation last year went a lot higher than you’ll ever know,” he murmured. He gave a brief, mirthless laugh at Apollo’s wide-eyed expression. “What, you think I did it for the money? I was a fuckin’ rock star! I made more money with one gig than you make in a year.” He glanced over his shoulder before continuing. “I was promised all kinds of protection if that operation went bad. But then Interpol had to get in the way, so once I was convicted they cut me loose.” His gaze flicked nervously between Trucy and Apollo. “Look, I’m a young guy. I got money stashed where the Criminal Assets Bureau can’t touch it. When I get out, I’m gonna take that money, and disappear. But first, I gotta get through my time in one piece. So yeah, I made a deal. Only one I could.” He was sweating again. “And don’t look at me that way. You’d have done it too.”

Apollo took a deep breath and let it out.

“Crescend,” he said, striving for calm, “you’ve got a motive to lie about what you saw.”

“Yeah?” Daryan spat. “Well you tell me, kid – did your Spidey Sense go off when I testified about what I saw?”

 “No,” Apollo admitted hotly. “But I can’t admit ‘my feelings’ as evidence!”

“Can’t you just tell the truth about Mr. Gavin helping to keep you safe?” Trucy asked. “If you’re honest about that, maybe the judge will believe you’re telling the truth about what you saw.”

Daryan looked at her as if she was crazy.

“Is this chick for real?” He flicked his bangs out of his face and smirked at her. “Go back to preschool, honey, the grownups are talking.”

“It was just an idea,” Trucy grumbled.

“Yeah, well there’s no way I’m testifying about Kris’s set-up,” Daryan insisted in a forceful whisper. “Sure, Peace broke up the guards involved – for now – but I’m not the only prisoner he’s got working for him. I talk about this in court, and my ass is grass.”

“Well you’ve gotta testify about something,” Apollo urged. “Because otherwise I’ve got nothing. Gavin’s going down, and…” He paused, suppressing a shudder. “…and you can kiss your protection goodbye.”

He watched as Daryan frowned in thought, and did his best not to feel dirty.

At last, the ex-detective spoke.

“There’s…there’s one thing I could talk about,” Daryan murmured. He lifted his head and fixed Apollo with a steely stare. “But it’s up to you to show how it’s relevant. Got that?”

(Sure, why not? It’s not like *you’ve* got anything to lose if the judge throws out your testimony.) Apollo nodded. “Yeah, I got that.”

The door to the courtroom opened and the bailiff called them back in.

“Trucy,” Apollo murmured as they entered the courtroom, “the sooner your Daddy gets his badge back, the better.”

May 19

Courtroom No. 3

12.00 PM

The judge banged his gavel as Daryan took the stand for a second time.

“Mr. Justice,” the judge asked, “is your witness prepared to testify?”

Apollo nervously brushed the gathering sweat from his brow. “Yes, Your Honour.”

“Then I presume Mr. Crescend is going to tell the court about his relationship with the defendant,” Edgeworth remarked.

“No.”

Apollo sweated. The judge blinked. Edgeworth arched an eyebrow.

“No?” the prosecutor asked.

Daryan regarded him coolly. “Seeing as you brought it up, fancy-boy, I’d like to testify about the only time I’ve been assaulted in prison.”

“Objection!” Edgeworth declared. “Your Honour, that has nothing to do with this case!”

“Objection!” Apollo interrupted. “Yes it does!”

The judge blinked in confusion. “I don’t see what it has to do with this case.”

Apollo slammed his fists on the bench. “Your Honour, it’s very, very important!”

The judge frowned. “Perhaps you could explain why it’s very important, Mr. Justice,” he said sternly.

Apollo swallowed nervously. “Well…just – listen, and you’ll see!” he answered as forcefully as he could manage, hoping the judge would buy it.

There was an awful silence while the judge considered. Apollo squeezed his fists tighter and tighter, short nails digging into the palms of his hands. Edgeworth was smirking again, and Apollo did his best not to glare at the prosecutor.

“…I’ll allow it.”

The smirk vanished from Edgeworth’s face as the prosecutor recoiled slightly from the bench. “Wh-what?”

“I’ve decided to hear Mr. Crescend’s testimony,” the judge replied. Apollo couldn’t hold back a smirk of his own as His Honour directed a glare at the prosecution bench for a change. “But if the defence cannot show how it relates to this case…” the judge warned, “then I will have no choice but to penalise Mr. Justice for wasting the court’s time.”

Apollo slumped. (Way to put me back in my place.) He gazed across the courtroom, taking some solace in the fact that Edgeworth, while composed once more, didn’t exactly look happy with this latest turn of events.

“Very well, witness,” the prosecutor snapped. “Please tell the court what occurred in the prison cafeteria on July 24^th of last year.”

“Sure,” Daryan replied. He caught Apollo’s eye and held his gaze, just for a second, before continuing.

“It was July, last year. I’d been in the Pen. about a week – what they call fresh fish, you know? Nobody had touched me yet, but I knew it was only a matter of time…”

June 24

State Penitentiary Cafeteria

12.03 PM

Daryan took his lunch and went to sit at the end of one of the long, vacant tables in the prison cafeteria, warily eyeing his fellow inmates. Killing Mr. Interpol meant no protective custody, and all his new friends in stripy pyjamas were just itching to ice the new ex-cop on the cellblock. He had no underworld contacts, and no outside contacts he could use to his advantage. His only chance was to demonstrate that he was a force to be reckoned with.

And that meant beating up someone else.

He’d selected his victim carefully. The man was older, shuffled when he walked, and wore prosthetics to help him see. He was also always alone.

The man – Daryan had heard some of the other prisoners yell ‘Armando’ at him once or twice – was coming his way, head down, carrying his lunch. Daryan took a deep breath and let it out slow. Funny how he’d been able to shoot a guy, but he still baulked at the idea of beating up on someone who was so clearly weak and sick. Daryan told himself he had no choice. Things were getting both friendlier and unfriendlier for him up on the wing, and he had to show he could hold his own. Plus, here the guards would break it up – maybe even take Daryan to solitary for a spell. By the time he was back with the general population, someone else might be the new target.

A glance over his shoulder told Daryan that Armando had almost reached him. The ex-detective rested his foot on the empty chair opposite him, and waited. As soon as Armando passed him, Daryan shoved the chair as hard as he could. It hit Armando’s shaky legs and the older man went down heavily, the contents of his lunch tray spilling all over the floor.

Daryan smirked as a hush fell over the cafeteria. The cowboy guard yelled something at him but he ignored it as he pushed his chair back and stood up. Armando was on his knees, his back to Daryan. Daryan leaned over, intending to pull him to his feet and slap him around a little.

Instead, a plastic lunch tray smacked him in the face.

Stunned by the pain, Daryan stumbled back into the table as another blow landed, this time on the side of his head. His first thought was that the old man had friends after all, but then he saw the tray coming at him again…and Armando was on the other end.

The cafeteria erupted in shouting. A barrage of savage blows landed on Daryan’s head, then on his arms as he tried in vain to protect himself. He slipped on the floor, slick with spilled food, and a second later felt the weight of another body pinning him down as Armando straddled him. Daryan stared up at three red lights and a raised fist. He tasted blood. He screamed something.

“Doggone it, Armando!”

The cowboy guard had his nightstick around Armando’s neck, hauling him off Daryan. Daryan could only stare, heart racing, as Armando struggled against the cowboy guard and two of his friends. He heard the crackle of a taser and Armando’s body went limp. Two of the guards dragged him away.

“Best get you to the hospital, pardner.” The cowboy guard crouched over Daryan and helped him get to his feet. Daryan stared down at the blood on his prison jumpsuit, staining the white stripes before disappearing into the black.

When they reached the hospital wing, Daryan realised what the cowboy guard had shouted at him just before the attack.

“For the love of God, Crescend, stay in your seat!”

Miles Edgeworth slid his glasses off his face, and folded the handles down with a click.

“Your Honour, I fail to see what that trip down memory lane has to do with this case.”

“Hmm,” the judge replied. “I could use an explanation myself.” He directed a stern look at the defence bench. “Mr. Justice?”

Apollo started, eyes darting nervously around the courtroom. “Uh…” He swallowed, and said sheepishly, “C-could you repeat the question?”

The judge took a deep breath and let it out, before speaking very slowly. “How does Mr. Crescend’s testimony about his assault relate to this case?”

“R-right!” Apollo said quickly. “Well, i-it’s obvious!” He ran his hand nervously over his hair, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “I mean, I don’t want to insult Your Honour’s intelligence by spelling it out…”

The judge was unmoved. “Indulge me.”

“Come on, Polly!” Trucy urged. “You can do this, I know you can!”

Apollo ran through Daryan’s story quickly, trying to ignore the way the former rockstar was glaring at him, and checked it against the file on Daryan that Edgeworth had admitted as evidence earlier. No glaring contradictions. What was the point of that testimony, unless…

“Your Honour!” Apollo shouted. “This testimony is important because it relates to the victim’s mental state!”

“What?!” Edgeworth exclaimed in disbelief. Undeterred, Apollo continued.

“Armando delivered a savage beating to Mr. Crescend, one which landed him in hospital for two days and left him requiring stitches…all because Crescend tripped him and made him drop his lunch.” Apollo shot the prosecutor a steely stare. “Does that sound like the actions of someone in his right mind?”

“It relates to the victim’s mental state ten months ago,” Edgeworth retorted. He wagged his finger at Apollo.  “If you intend to go down this particular route, you’ll need more recent evidence of the victim’s mental state.”

The judge blinked a couple of times. “I’m afraid I don’t quite follow.”

(I’m so shocked.) “Your Honour,” Apollo explained, “the court has just heard testimony that ten months ago, Armando was violent and unstable. If he remained violent and unstable up until his death, isn’t it possible that what Mr. Crescend says he saw is true…that Armando was the attacker, and Gavin killed him in self defence?”

“Objection!” Edgeworth shouted.

“Not so fast,” the judge interrupted. Edgeworth scowled, but held his tongue. The judge shook his head slowly, and continued. “It seems this case is not as open and shut as it first appeared. The crime scene was tampered with, and the eyewitness testimony is contradictory and cannot be trusted. In light of this, I have no choice but to allow the defence to investigate the possibility that Gavin killed Armando in self defence.”

Apollo closed his eyes and breathed a silent prayer of thanks.

“However,” the judge continued, “I must instruct the jury to disregard the eyewitness testimonies of both Rowdy Kitaki and Daryan Crescend, as neither witness can be fully trusted.”

The gallery began to murmur, and Apollo thudded his fists gently on the bench. (Damn it!)

“This court will reconvene at ten a.m. tomorrow.” The judge banged his gavel.

Apollo folded over the defence bench as people filed out of the gallery and Daryan was escorted from the courtroom.

“Cheer up, Apollo!” Trucy said, patting him on the back. “We’ve got another day to find out what happened!”

“Yeah,” Apollo mumbled into his arms. He lifted his head and looked at her. “I guess you’re right.” He straightened up and touched her lightly on the arm. “Come on, let’s get outta here.”

May 19

Defendant Lobby No. 3

12.21 AM

Apollo and Trucy arrived in the defendant lobby just as Daryan was being escorted out, this time by prison guards.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Apollo said, jogging up to them. The guards glared at him, but halted. Daryan looked around as Apollo approached. “Thanks for helping us out,” Apollo told him. “Looks like we got a new lead.” The young attorney swallowed, beginning to blush. “Uh –”

“Like I said,” Daryan answered gruffly. “I do my time, then disappear.” He scowled at Trucy and Apollo. “And I hope I never see either of you again.”

Apollo wiped the sweat from his forehead as the guards took Daryan away. Before he could think what to do next, Trucy tugged at his sleeve.

“Polly…”

Apollo turned around and saw Miles Edgeworth standing in the Defendant Lobby.

“Well, Justice,” the prosecutor remarked, “Wright seems to have passed on his secret techniques of flailing wildly and building a defence on absolutely nothing…” Trucy scowled and Apollo prepared to grab her cape and hold her back. “…not to mention his damnable good luck.” Edgeworth smirked and continued, “But it’ll take more than luck to find the truth of this case.”

“How about you worry about your own investigation?” Apollo shot back.

Edgeworth chuckled. “ ‘Worry’?”

“Come on, Trucy,” Apollo said, holding Edgeworth’s gaze. “We’ve got work to do.” He turned to leave, Trucy at his side.

“Justice.”

Apollo turned back, a scowl on his face. He’d had as much of the prosecutor as he could take. What did he want now?

“I was practising law when you were pulling pigtails in fifth grade,” Edgeworth said. His smirk disappeared, replaced by a frown. “Don’t ever try to embarrass me in open court again.”

Apollo stared at him for a second, then turned sharply and walked out of the defendant lobby, Trucy trailing behind him.

“Don’t let him get to you,” she said as they left the courthouse.

“I’m –” Apollo stopped himself, and sighed. “I’ll try.”

“Yeah!” Trucy punched him gently in the arm. “Now buck up, big bro, we’ve got a long day of investigating ahead of us.”

(‘Big bro’.) It still sounded so strange. Apollo’d spent a large chunk of his childhood wondering about his real family. Who’d have thought becoming a lawyer would lead him right to them?

“Let’s get back to the office and grab lunch,” Apollo suggested, unchaining his bike.

“Sounds good to me!” Trucy beamed, removing the magic linking rings holding her bike in place. “Then I guess we’d better go to the prison.”

“Yeah,” Apollo replied. “Armando’s psych and disciplinary records should tell us whether he was really as crazy as everyone says he was.”

He mounted his bike and they began to cycle home.

“You think Daddy will be back yet?” Trucy huffed.

“No,” Apollo panted. He glanced quickly at his watch, mentally calculating distances and times, and correcting for delays. “I don’t think he’ll be back till this evening…or maybe tomorrow morning.” He cast a brief look at Trucy before returning his attention to the road. (It all depends on how much his *other* family needs him.)

Chapter Text

May 19

Fey Manor

11.20 AM

“Hi, Nick.”

Maya pulled Phoenix into a warm hug as soon as she opened the door. Phoenix held her tight for a few seconds before easing up. She looked better than she had the last time he’d seen her. Her eyes were dry and she wore the ceremonial robes of the Master of Kurain.

“How are you doing?” he asked gently.

“I’m a lot better,” Maya admitted with a smile. “I’m still sad, but I know Diego’s with Mia now.”

Phoenix looked at her. “You…know?”

Maya ducked her head sheepishly. “Well, I don’t know know.” She smiled at him. “I just know.” She stepped back from the doorway, inviting him in.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Phoenix said as they walked into the main hall. “The trial started this morning, and I wanted to…” He shrugged and gave a brief, self-conscious grin. “…I guess, be a good mentor for once.”

Maya punched him gently in the arm. “I’m sure you’re a great mentor, Nick!”

Phoenix shifted uncomfortably, remembering Apollo’s rant from two days earlier. “Yeah, well…”

Maya didn’t seem to notice or mind that he’d trailed off. “Everyone else is already here,” she told him, leading him into the channelling room.

Pearl ran up to him as soon as he crossed the threshold, and flung her arms around him.

“Mr. Nick!” She buried her tear-stained face in his suit, mumbling, “I knew you’d come” into the cheap blue material.

Phoenix hugged her. “Course I would, Pearls,” he murmured, absently kissing the top of her head. Amazing to think she was nearly Trucy’s age; he still wasn’t used to how tall she’d become. He glanced around the room. Marvin Grossberg was in a corner, taking up space, and Phoenix felt a little jab of anger – Armando was his employee, shouldn’t the old man have cared that he was in a coma? Dick Gumshoe, looking all wrong without his tatty overcoat, stared dejectedly at the ground. Winston Payne was there too, with his wife.

“I was surprised too,” Maya murmured, and Phoenix realised he’d been staring. “He’s the only prosecutor who showed up.”

Phoenix shrugged slightly. “I guess Winston was the only one who knew him,” he said. But no one in the room had really known Diego Armando. This small gathering of acquaintances was all that was left, and Phoenix wondered if Armando just didn’t make friends, or if the ones he’d had before Do- before Hawthorne poisoned him had drifted away while he slept.

Pearl was still leaning on him, resting her head on his shoulder, and Maya was tugging at his sleeve. Phoenix realised it was time to face what he’d been ignoring since he walked into the room. Taking a deep breath, he turned to look at the open coffin, and the older, stouter version of Armando that was standing next to it.

“I know,” Maya said quietly, sensing his unease. “But the undertakers did a really good job, and Pearly and I…we didn’t want the last time we saw him to be…”

“Yeah,” Phoenix managed. He gestured to the man looking at the coffin. “Who’s that?”

“That’s Hugo,” Maya explained, “Diego’s cousin.” She glanced at him uncomfortably, and continued, “I don’t know if he was the only one who could make it or if he was the only one who wanted to come. I get the feeling their family’s not that close.” She flashed him a quick smile. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you.”

He could hardly refuse, and Phoenix found himself walking right up to the coffin, Maya holding his hand, and Pearl still clinging to him.

“Hugo,” Maya was saying, “this is my good friend, Phoenix Wright.”

Hugo looked him up and down, and then extended a hand. Phoenix took it, and winced at the strength of the older man’s grip as he shook it.

“You were his friend?” Hugo asked, in an accent much thicker than Armando’s.

“Um, yeah,” Phoenix lied. No time and no point in going into the complicated relationship that had existed between him and Armando.

“I am glad he had friends,” Hugo replied. He turned and looked into the coffin again. Phoenix stayed where he was. He could see a flash of red out of the corner of his eye, and that was enough for now.

“Thirteen, fourteen years ago I got a call to say my cousin Diego is very sick, he will never wake up,” Hugo said. “Then yesterday I get a call to say he is dead.” He looked at Phoenix again, a grim expression on his face. “You know he never told anyone, ‘Hey, I’m alive, I’m awake’?” Hugo shook his head slightly. “But I hadn’t seen him since we were children, so…” He shrugged. “…I feel like I am the stranger, and you are his family.”

(Oh boy.) Phoenix tugged nervously at his collar, at a complete loss for words. Luckily Maya took over, promising to fill Hugo in on the last decade and a half of Diego’s life. Tuning the conversation out, Phoenix turned to look at the body.

The undertakers had done a good job. The unnatural greenish tinge was gone, and the bruising around his eyes was well hidden. His mane of white hair was fanned out on the cushion under his head. They’d dressed him, as Pearls suggested, in a red shirt. Phoenix could understand how this would comfort some people, seeing a dead loved one cleaned up and dressed and looking just like he was sleeping…but it was all fake. It had been the same at Mia’s funeral – her head wound disguised, the blood washed out of her hair, face made up to look lifelike, and none of it could erase the memory of the very last time he saw her, slumped over and bleeding, body already growing cold…

“Nick? Nick!”

Phoenix started. “Huh?”

“I figured we’d start now,” Maya said quietly.

“Oh!” Phoenix looked around in confusion. “Uh…”

Maya shot him a smile and gently turned him around. “Just have a seat, okay? I’m gonna give a blessing and then we’ll take him to be buried.”

Phoenix nodded and joined the rest of the group, sitting on meditation mats in the lower half of the room. Pearl sat next to him, still leaning into him.

Phoenix faded out while Maya gave the blessing, while they carried the coffin to the hearse, and walked the short distance behind it to the cemetery. As much as he told himself he was here for Maya and Pearls – especially Pearls, who had started to cry again as they walked to the cemetery – he felt like he had no right to be here at all. Armando had hated him. Phoenix could almost hear him, chewing him out for daring to show his face. (Trying to salve your conscience, Trite? The clues were there in front of you all the time, but you never bothered to look for them.)

Phoenix shook it off as they reached the graveside. Maya said another blessing, and Diego was put in the ground next to Mia. Pearl stepped away from him briefly to throw a flower on the coffin; Hugo threw a handful of dirt. Then they started the walk back, leaving the gravediggers to their grim task.

Gumshoe fell into step beside him.

“Didn’t get to talk to you earlier, pal,” the former detective remarked. He scratched the back of his head glumly. “Too bad we have to meet up again like this.”

“Yeah,” Phoenix replied. He gave Gumshoe a smile. “It’s good of you to come.”

“Aw, I had to, pal,” Gumshoe replied. “I did work with Mr. Go- Mr. Armando for a year, y’know.” He gazed at the path in front of them for a few minutes. “It’s funny – I was a witness in State vs. Fawles. My first time in court as a detective. Mr. Armando was there too, co-counsel for the defence.” Gumshoe rubbed his neck. “I – I kinda wish I’d recognised him, you know? Maybe I coulda done something.”

“Yeah,” Phoenix murmured grimly. Trying to turn the subject to something happier, he said, “So, how’s Maggey? I heard you two had a baby boy a few years back.”

“Oh, yeah, pal,” Gumshoe replied, his face lighting up. “Richie just turned four last month. Takes after his old man looks-wise, poor kid. I told Maggey we could leave him with my dad today, but…” He shrugged. “…she didn’t feel right about coming.” Remembering his manners, he asked, “How’s yours?”

“Trucy?” Phoenix smiled in spite of himself. “Well, she’s sixteen, so I gotta work on my Scary Dad face to keep the boys away. She’s in court today, helping Apollo out with the trial.” He glanced at Gumshoe. “I just hope they’re doing okay.”

“Don’t worry, pal!” Gumshoe replied, slapping him hard on the shoulder. “Mr. Edgeworth’ll help Apple find out the truth!”

“Apollo,” Phoenix corrected absently.

“Oh,” Gumshoe replied. “That’s a dumb name.”

Phoenix shook his head with a grin. He’d sometimes wondered whether Apollo would’ve gotten along with Gumshoe, and it looked like he’d just got an answer.

Back at the manor, Grossberg, the Paynes and Gumshoe said their goodbyes to Maya and Pearl. Hugo was staying a little longer. Phoenix hovered at the front door, watching as everyone else left.

“Hey, Nick.” Maya was at his side. He turned to look at her and she smiled at him. “Pearl’s making coffee. You want a cup for the road?”

Phoenix took her hand. “Maya, I can stay the night if you want me to…”

Maya lifted an eyebrow at him. “C’mon, Nick, we both know you want to get back and see how the trial’s going,” she teased. “And besides…” Her expression grew serious. “…there’s something you should give to Apollo.”

Curious, Phoenix followed her as she led him down Winding Way and into the spare bedroom at the end of the manor. Maya knelt by the big trunk and took a plastic baggie from inside it.

“This is what they found on Diego when he died,” Maya explained as he joined her on the floor. She shook out the baggie. “One thing doesn’t fit.”

Phoenix looked. Two cigarettes. Three matches. And… He frowned and picked up the small, lace-edged white handkerchief. Opening it, he saw a purple flower embroidered on one corner.

“That’s not a man’s hanky,” Maya said. “And I don’t think it belonged to Sis – it’s not her style.”

Phoenix nodded.

“I’ll see that Apollo gets it,” he told her, slipping the hanky into his pocket. He smiled at her. “But first, I’ll have some coffee.”

Maya smiled back as they stood up. “Pearly and I will try and make it to the trial tomorrow,” she declared. “Maybe we’ll see you there.”

“It’s a date,” Phoenix replied.

As they stepped back onto Winding Way, Maya squeezed his hand. “Nick?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks,” Maya said. She wrapped her arms around him, making him gasp. “Thanks for everything.”

Chapter Text

April 29

State Penitentiary, A Wing

????

Four weeks now.

The frame of the bunk bed rattled slightly, vibrations travelling up from below. Kristoph knew better than to say anything. Armando was reading his Braille book, and that meant he was leaving Kristoph alone. Kristoph had no desire to attract his cellmate’s attention.

Kristoph shifted onto his back and stared anxiously at the ceiling. Four weeks he’d been in here, without the connections that had served him so well during the first year of his incarceration. The prisoners who worked for him were getting restless – he hadn’t been able to pay them what he’d agreed. And yet the fear that some or all of them would turn on him faded into the background when he thought of the man lying on the bunk below him.

For four weeks, he’d been the target of a terror campaign. Nothing overt, of course – nothing Kristoph could prove. But no matter where Kristoph was or what he was doing in the tiny, two-man cell, Armando found a way to intrude on his space. The disgusting smell of tobacco smoke hung in the air, permeating Kristoph’s uniform and bedclothes. Even worse was the way Armando stared at him, sometimes smirking, sometimes not, from his bunk or near the bars, staring in silence while Kristoph tried to go about his business. Sometimes Armando got right in his personal space, towering over Kristoph while he sat, or standing beside him as he tried to sleep, looming there until Kristoph’s throat began to close up and he squirmed away, desperate to put distance between them… except he couldn’t.

There was a bang from beneath him, startling Kristoph out of his thoughts. He leaned up on one elbow, squinting in the gloom, and saw Armando’s book lying in the corner. Kristoph held his breath. Earlier in the day he’d been alone in the cell for a few minutes, and in an act of futile rebellion he’d scribbled on the damn book with a red pencil, giggling hysterically because Armando couldn’t see it. If Armando had managed to make it out…

The bunk below him creaked and Kristoph tensed, body going hot and cold. Armando rolled out of bed, visor on, and shuffled over to the book. As he leaned down to pick it up, Kristoph realised what had caused him to lose his temper. Armando’s hand was shaking badly. How could he tell the little bumps apart with such a strong tremor?

Armando carefully put the book back on the shelf, and drew a cigarette from his pocket. Kristoph watched as Armando struggled to strike a match, first with his shaking right hand, then with his left hand. The match broke and Armando swore. Then, to Kristoph’s horror, he turned and approached the bunk beds.

Kristoph shrank away, but with the wall at his back there was nowhere to go. Armando was only inches away from his face, visor burning three red lines into Kristoph’s retinas, cigarette gripped in the corner of his mouth.

A scream rose up in Kristoph’s throat as Armando thrust his fist towards him. It died when, at the last second, the fist stopped in front of his nose. Armando opened his hand, revealing a match lying in his palm.

“Strike it.”

Kristoph stared at him.

Armando shoved the bunk beds with his free hand.

“Strike it!”

Kristoph seized the match, grimacing as his fingers brushed Armando’s skin, and struck it against the wall. He nearly dropped it as Armando grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand forward, clumsily lighting his cigarette. He snorted smoke into Kristoph’s face before pacing over to the cell bars.

Kristoph coughed, wheezed, and then took deep breaths in and out, fighting for calm. Klavier had called him mad. Klavier didn’t know what madness was. Everything Kristoph had done was measured, planned, carefully considered – a little more extreme, perhaps, than other people and their quaint morals, but not mad. Madness was chaotic and violent, without reason or predictability. It was stalking up and down between the bunks and the wall, breathing smoke and fire and making the tiny space intolerable. And at any moment it might turn, drag him from his bunk, and destroy him.

Hysterical laughter bubbled up in Kristoph’s throat.

Kristoph woke with a laugh still stuck in his chest. He closed his eyes and tried to compose himself, clenching his fist in the blankets. How dare Armando still torment him?! He had probably died on purpose, just to ruin everything. Kristoph took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. The light and sounds of the room around him were chasing away the bad memories…for now. He knew that when he slept again, the haunting would resume. Kristoph couldn’t hold back a bitter smile. For six weeks he’d been too afraid to sleep, and now that his demonic cellmate was dead, he still couldn’t sleep. He almost wished he’d had the courage to end Armando’s wretched life – at least then all this misery would be worth something.

He heard voices near the door and shifted slightly on the pillow, squinting across the room. Even without his glasses, there was no mistaking Justice in his red vest and slacks. Kristoph heaved a sigh. More bad news. He settled back, doing his best to look as sleepy and ill as possible as they approached.

“Are you sure you’re not just scared of the warden?” Trucy teased.

Apollo rolled his eyes. “I’m sure.” He nodded to Kristoph. “Mr. Gavin’s our client. We should speak to him first and bring him up to speed on how the trial went, since he couldn’t be in court today.”

“I guess you’re right,” Trucy replied. They reached Kristoph’s bed, and she frowned in puzzlement. “Hey, where’s Prosecutor Gavin?”

A look of irritation crossed Kristoph’s face and Apollo frowned at his sister. He pulled the curtains closed around the bed and took a seat on one of the empty chairs at the bedside.

“I don’t know where my brother is, Miss Wright,” Kristoph remarked. He gazed at the blankets in front of him. “He left last night and hasn’t been back since.”

“He was at the trial this morning,” Trucy told him, ignoring Apollo’s look of alarm. She tapped her chin. “Oh, but he left during Detective Skye’s testimony.” Apollo elbowed her sharply and she yelled, clutching her arm. “Ow! Polly, he did! Right after they showed a photograph of the crime scene…”

“Hmpf.” Kristoph shook his head slightly. “Of course.” He scratched at his cast, gazing off into the distance. “It always has to be about him. Ever since we were children…”

“Well, this is probably rough on him,” Trucy tried.

Kristoph snorted in derision. “You’re right, of course. I’m lying here alone and injured, about to lose what little freedom I have left. Why shouldn’t Klavier wallow in self-pity? I’m sure this affects him deeply.”

Apollo lifted an eyebrow. (Someone’s wallowing, all right.) Kristoph glanced at them briefly, and went back to staring at the blankets.

“Family means nothing to him.”

Apollo cleared his throat. He hadn’t come to discuss Kristoph’s relationship with Klavier. “Mr. Gavin, if we could talk about the case…”

Kristoph roused himself. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

“The good news is,” Apollo began, “we’ve got another day to prove that you’re innocent.”

Kristoph closed his eyes briefly, a relieved smile appearing on his face.

“The bad news is I need to ask you some more questions,” Apollo continued. He watched carefully, and caught the brief flash of annoyance on Kristoph’s face before he adopted a thoughtful, serious expression. He eyed his former employer sternly, and asked, “Are you sure there’s nothing more you can tell me about the murder?”

“I’m sure,” Kristoph replied firmly.

“You don’t remember the bunk beds falling over?”

Apollo’s bracelet began to vibrate as Kristoph answered, “I told you – I was asleep.”

Apollo stared at him. (Why is he lying? My bracelet didn’t react at all when he told me he didn’t kill Armando. What’s he got to hide?)  

“That’s your story and you’re sticking to it,” he remarked. “Right?”

Kristoph didn’t answer him, but his expression darkened. “Is there something else?” he asked.

“Yes, there is,” Apollo replied. He gazed intensely at Kristoph. “It turns out Armando was a pretty violent guy.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Kristoph interrupted.

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “Really?” He leaned over and took Daryan’s file from his briefcase, extracting the photographs of him that were taken after Armando assaulted him. “You didn’t know he beat Daryan Crescend half to death with a lunch tray last year?”

He pushed the photographs towards Kristoph, watching his reaction. Kristoph looked away for a split second, then gave the photographs a dismissive glance and looked up at Apollo.

“Someone was bound to do it sooner or later,” he remarked. “Crescend is a former detective.”

Apollo held his gaze for a few moments, then put the photographs away. Kristoph’s initial reaction belied his cool demeanour. “I’d be pretty scared if I found myself sharing a cell with someone who could do that to another person.”

“Mr. Justice,” Kristoph snapped, sitting up a little and pushing at his non-existent glasses, “I assure you, I am not afraid of scum like that.”

Apollo fingered his bracelet, which was practically buzzing off his wrist.

“Why are you lying?” he challenged. “Did Armando attack you that night? Did you snap? Was it an accident?”

“I think it’s time you left,” Kristoph said shortly. He flicked back the curtain next to him. “Nurse!”

“Wait –” Apollo protested, but the nurse who had shooed them away from Rowdy the previous day was approaching them.

“Come on,” she said, herding them away from Kristoph’s bed. Apollo bit back a curse. He was never going to get the truth out of Kristoph if the man decided he was sleepy or called the nurse every time the questions got difficult.

A thought occurred to Apollo as he watched the nurse make Kristoph comfortable.

“Nurse?” he asked, as she straightened up. “Could we talk to you for a minute?”

“Of course,” the nurse replied. They moved away from the beds, towards the back of the ward.

“I’m Apollo Justice,” Apollo said, showing the nurse his badge. “This is my assistant, Trucy Wright.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Trucy replied with a smile, offering her hand. The nurse took it, a faint, sad smile appearing briefly on her face. “Again, I mean. We were here yesterday?”

“Yes,” the nurse replied with a nod. “I remember.”

“I was just wondering about my client, Mr. Gavin,” Apollo continued. “How’s he doing?”

The nurse gave him a brief smile. “He’s getting better,” she replied. “His wrist and chest are healing nicely, and he’s breathing normally.” Her smile faded. “He needs to take the stand, doesn’t he?”

Apollo glanced at Kristoph. “I haven’t decided yet,” he replied. He looked back at her and offered his hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name. Nurse…?”

“Hawthorne,” the nurse replied, adding quickly, “Please, call me Iris.”

Apollo stared at her as she shook his hand. She was older than the file photographs he’d glanced at…but yes, on closer inspection, he recognised her. (Iris Hawthorne…Armando’s accomplice.)

“Nurse…Iris,” he said. “You know that Mr. Gavin is on trial for murder.”

Iris nodded. “Of course,” she replied.

“Did you know the victim?” Apollo asked. “Diego Armando?”

A troubled look flashed across Iris’ face. “…Yes.” She looked up at him. “You know, don’t you?”

Apollo nodded. “You helped him try to cover up his crime.”

“I knew you would,” Iris replied. She looked at Trucy, a warm smile appearing on her face. “When I heard the name…” She turned back to Apollo. “In prison I studied nursing so that I could help people when I was released.” Iris looked down at her clipboard, her face slightly flushed. “I…I couldn’t go back to the temple after…”

Apollo nodded. “How about after you started to work here?” he asked. “Did you spend much time with Armando?”

Iris looked at him for a few seconds, then shook her head.

“No,” she replied. “He was just another patient, nothing more.”

Apollo’s bracelet vibrated faintly. The young attorney frowned in puzzlement, but he had no other evidence to prove that Iris was lying.

“Was he in here often?” Apollo asked.

Iris thought for a moment.

“I only treated him once,” she replied. “Around the middle of March, I think.” She glanced up at him, the troubled expression on her face again. “He’d been fighting.”

“Had he been back here since then?” Apollo pressed.

Iris shook her head. “I didn’t see him again after that,” she replied, and again Apollo’s bracelet vibrated faintly. “You’d have to check with Dr. de Áth to make sure. He’s the Chief Medical Officer – he can give you access to Mr. Go- Mr. Armando’s medical records.”

Apollo gazed at her intensely. Hawthorne might be glossing over a deeper relationship with Armando because she was supposed to keep things strictly professional…or she could be hiding important evidence. But he had no way to know for sure, and certainly nothing to help him coax the truth out of her.

His gaze was making Iris uncomfortable. She glanced down at her chart, turning her body slightly away from him.

“I think we’ll do that,” Apollo said at last. Iris looked up at him and smiled, giving him a nod. Apollo didn’t smile back. “We may need to talk to you again.”

“I’ll be here till seven,” Iris replied, and Apollo noticed her smile no longer reached her eyes. He nodded, and Trucy waved goodbye as they left the ward.

Chapter Text

May 19

Warden’s Office

2.00 PM

Apollo and Trucy gazed at the forbidding wood and glass door.

“You know, it’s only two o’clock,” Apollo remarked. “He’s probably not even back from lunch yet.”

Trucy rolled her eyes.

“Fine, if you won’t knock…” Before Apollo could stop her, she darted forward and rapped on the door.

“Come in!”

Apollo hesitated – there was an edge to the warden’s voice that he didn’t like – but Trucy grabbed his wrist and hauled him through the doorway.

Warden Peace was standing near the filing cabinets, with Jake Marshall opposite him. Apollo realised they’d arrived in the middle of a discussion. Peace glared at him and Apollo did his best not to wilt. (Be strong!)

“What do you want?!” the warden growled.

Apollo put everything he had into staring the older man down. “Armando’s disciplinary records, medical records and psyche evaluations,” he replied.

Peace moved away from the filing cabinet, leaned on the desk, and smiled sarcastically at Apollo.

“Now why would you come to me?” he asked through bared teeth. “I probably falsified the evidence.”

Being reminded that he was dealing with a liar helped to strengthen Apollo’s resolve. He hardened his stare, arms folded.

“We’ll take our chances.”

The warden’s smile disappeared. He picked a manila folder off his desk and practically flung it at Apollo. The young attorney almost fumbled it, and clutched it tightly to his chest.

“Marshall,” Peace barked, jerking his head in Jake’s direction. “Take ’em where they wanna go.” His expression darkened. “Then escort them off the premises.”

“Yessir.” Jake tugged the brim of his hat and shepherded Apollo and Trucy towards the door. Apollo held the warden’s gaze until they were outside his office. This wasn’t over.

Jake pulled the door shut behind them.

“I don’t know what you said to him, but he’s mighty ticked off,” he laughed.

Apollo gave him a puzzled look.

“Don’t you mind that we made your boss mad, Officer Marshall?” Trucy asked.

Jake chuckled and patted her on the shoulder. “Little lady, any friend of your pop is a friend of mine.” He slapped Apollo on the back, knocking the breath out of him and making him stumble. “Now, what do you folks wanna see first?”

“Actually,” Apollo said with a cough, “is there somewhere quiet we could go to have a look at this folder?”

“Sure is, partner,” Jake replied. He turned and began to walk away down the corridor, his spurs jangling softly with each long stride. “Right this way.”

May 19

Guard Room

2.21 PM

The guard room was deserted when the trio entered. A few tables and chairs were scattered around inside, and a TV was mounted on a bracket on the far wall. There was a small kitchenette at one end of the room, and a vending machine in the corner next to the door.

Jake invited Apollo and Trucy to sit at one of the tables.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked.

“No, thanks,” Apollo replied, adding, as Trucy opened her mouth, “We’re on duty.”

Trucy folded her arms and pouted. “Spoilsport.”

Jake picked up a chair, turned it so the backrest faced the table, and sat down. He and Trucy watched as Apollo opened the folder and began leafing through its contents.

“Huh,” the young attorney murmured. “This is just Armando’s disciplinary record.” He looked at Trucy. “We’ll have to go back to the hospital wing for his medical records and psyche reports.”

“You oughta talk to Dr. de Áth,” Jake interrupted. “He’s the Chief Medical Officer.”

Apollo nodded. “Yes, a nurse told us.” A thought suddenly struck him. “Officer Marshall, do you know a nurse called Iris Hawthorne?”

Jake had to think for a minute.

“Oh, sure!” he replied. “The bambina with the long black hair.” He got a wistful expression on his face. “Don’t get many like her in here. Beautiful and delicate like a desert flower…” He shook his head. “Makes me kinda sad.”

(Sad?) “Why?” Apollo asked.

Jake grew serious. “People like her, this place grinds ’em down, burns ’em out,” he answered. “Always hate to see it happen.”

Apollo looked at the cowboy prison guard thoughtfully. Iris was definitely hiding the extent of her relationship with Armando. Maybe Jake could tell him something.

“Has Nurse Hawthorne been working here long?” he asked.

Jake drew out his hunting knife and idly scraped off some stubble while he thought about it.

“I’d say about five months,” he replied. “She started here in January.”

Apollo nodded. He chose his next words carefully – he didn’t want to get Iris in trouble. “She mentioned that she treated Armando for injuries at some point in March. Do you know if she saw him after that?”

Jake was already shaking his head. “No idea, partner,” he replied. “You’d best ask her.”

Apollo’s spikes drooped a little. (Well, at least I tried.) He turned his attention to the file Warden Peace had given them. Seven years’ worth of incidences, carefully logged with date, time, offence and punishment. Apollo began to flick through them. He frowned as he noted the dates on each report.

“What is it, Polly?” Trucy asked.

“The time between each assault gets shorter and shorter as time goes by,” Apollo answered. He looked up at her with a grim expression. “Armando just got worse…” He continued to flick through the file. “…first every year…then every month.”

“Then maybe he did attack Mr. Gavin,” Trucy piped up.

“Maybe,” Apollo replied. He paused and frowned as he got to the last report in the folder. “Wait a minute…”

He drew out the sheet of paper and brought it closer to his face. There was no mistake – the date was clear.

Trucy leaned across the table, trying to see too. “Polly – that report’s dated March twelfth!”

“Yeah,” Apollo replied. “If this is right…” He turned to Jake, who was leaning forward intently all of a sudden. “Officer Marshall, did Armando…” He tried to remember how Jake had put it. “…get ornery at any time between March this year and the night he died?”

“I wasn’t around him twenty-four hours a day,” Jake reminded him. “But if he’d assaulted someone and had been stripped of his privileges, or put in solitary, I would’ve been told.”

Apollo shook his head.

“November, December, January, February…Armando attacked another prisoner, attempted to assault the guards, or threw things at people at least once a month,” he remarked, tapping the file. “Then on the twelfth of March he headbutts a former mob enforcer, and after that…nothing.” He waved the final report at them both. “Not a thing, for nine and a half weeks – six of which he spends sharing a cell with a poisoner.” Apollo shook his head. “Something’s wrong with this picture.”

“Maybe he was afraid that Mr. Gavin’s friends would get him if he tried anything,” Trucy suggested.

“I don’t believe that,” Jake replied. “When Armando got mad, he just exploded. Didn’t matter how big the other guy was or how many friends were backing him up.” He had a sip from his flask. “Either he was very brave…” He tapped the side of his head. “…or his head wasn’t screwed on right.”

Apollo looked from Trucy to Jake and back again. “I think we’d better go talk to the doctor.”

May 19

Prison Morgue

2.45 PM

“Here we are,” Jake declared as the trio entered the deserted morgue. He pointed at the corner. “Dr. de Áth’s office is right over there.”

Apollo gazed at the rows of metal drawers, and the cold metal table in the centre of the room, and suppressed a shudder. (This place gives me the creeps!)

Trucy trotted over to the drawers. “This is where they keep the bodies, right?” she asked.

Jake nodded. “Yep.”

Trucy eyed the drawers with a disquieting grin on her face. “Wow, these would be perfect for an escape illusion!” She turned to Apollo. “What do you think, Polly?”

Apollo grimaced, doing his best to push the thought of being chained up in a sack inside that tiny space out of his mind. “I think we should go find the doctor.”

“Okay, but just remember,” Trucy warned, “a daring escape from a storage drawer in a morgue is my idea.”

Apollo rubbed his forehead as they began to walk towards the tiny office in the corner of the room. “Is this really the time to be thinking about new magic tricks?”

“Hey, magic isn’t something that you dust off for a couple of nights a week and never think about otherwise!” Trucy replied. She flicked the brim of her hat so it sat at a jaunty angle on her head. “A true magician lives magic all the time!”

(I wonder if she can magic me up the truth about this case?) Apollo wondered, and then stopped short in front of the door to the office.

‘TODD DE ÁTH M.D

CHIEF MEDICAL  OFFICER’

“Doctor Death,” Apollo said in disbelief. His spikes drooped over his forehead. “He works in a morgue and his name is Doctor Death.”

“Hey, partner, that’s de Áth, and I’d pronounce it correctly if I were you,” Jake warned. “You ain’t the first hombre to make that joke. It’s gotten real old, trust me.”

Apollo looked at him. “I’ll remember.” He raised his hand and knocked on the door.

No reply.

Apollo sighed. “Okay.” He squinted at the frosted glass in the vain hope that he might be able to make out whether or not there was anyone inside. Finding his attempts fruitless, he tried the door.

To Apollo’s surprise and relief, it was unlocked.

To his complete un-surprise, the office was empty.

“That’s odd,” Jake murmured as they entered the office. “Doc oughta be here…”

“Well, since he’s not…” Trucy replied, giving Apollo a sly look.

Apollo blew out a breath. “…let’s investigate.”

The small office was dominated by a large wooden desk. On it sat an empty in-tray and out-tray, the doctor’s name-plate, a handful of papers and some stationary. As Apollo looked through the papers – none of which were useful – he became aware of a presence behind him. He turned and nearly jumped out of his skin as Jake loomed over him.

“I know all about you sticky-fingered defence attorneys,” the guard warned. He tapped Apollo lightly on the forehead with one finger. “I’m watching you, partner.”

“Okay, okay,” Apollo said quickly. He held up his hands. “If I find anything interesting, I’ll let you know.” He crossed to the filing cabinet in the corner, Jake following on his heels.

(Fine, don’t trust me.) Apollo opened the filing cabinet and flicked through the drawers. His heart skipped a beat on finding a file labelled ‘Armando’. Apollo pulled it out and looked through it, with Jake hovering over his shoulder.

Apollo’s optimism soon faded – the file contained only details of Armando’s autopsy, which he already had, and forms showing that his body had been released into Maya Fey’s custody for burial. Dejected, he put the file back. The rest of the cabinet yielded nothing.

“I guess we’d better come back later,” he remarked. Trucy fell into step beside him as they left the office.

“What now, Polly?” Trucy asked.

“Hmm.” Apollo thought for a minute. “We should talk to the prison psychologist. She should be able to tell us about Armando’s mental state.” He looked at Jake. “Could you take us to her office, please?”

Jake smirked at him. “Sure thing, partner.”

May 19

Hospital Wing Psychiatric Ward

3.05 PM

Jake led Apollo and Trucy through the psychiatric ward. Unlike the ward where Kristoph was being treated, this was a long, narrow corridor with a number of rooms off it. Jake explained what they were as they passed.

“Secure ward,” he murmured, jerking a thumb at a door that led into a large room with beds inside. “Rooms on the other side are for group and one-on-one therapy sessions.”

“Therapy?” Trucy asked.

Jake tugged the brim of his hat down so it obscured his face slightly.

“Not everyone’s gonna be here till they’re too old and feeble to do any more damage, little lady,” he remarked. “Most of these guys are gonna be riding the range again, sooner rather later. It’s our job to make sure they’ve been tamed.”

“How about Armando?” Apollo asked. “Was he being tamed?”

“Now that I can’t say,” Jake answered. “You’ll have to ask Dr. Kovacs. Although, if he was, it sure wasn’t working.”

(That’s an understatement,) Apollo thought, thinking back over Armando’s disciplinary record. In a way, it was amazing he hadn’t been attacked and killed before this.

They reached the end of the corridor, and another door. This one was mostly wooden, with a small window near the top.

“‘Miriam Kovacs’,” Apollo murmured, reading the nameplate. He knocked at the door.

No answer. Apollo tried the handle, but the door was locked.

“Guess we have to try here later, too,” he said grimly. He looked at Trucy and Jake. “Let’s go back to the visitors’ area and plan our next move.”

As Jake led them out of the psychiatric ward, Apollo couldn’t help thinking that both Dr. de Áth and Dr. Kovacs were deliberately avoiding them

Chapter Text

May 19

Visitors’ Area

3.17 PM

“Hey. I’ve been looking all over for you two.”

Apollo looked around just as Trucy dashed past him. “Daddy!”

Phoenix pulled Trucy into a hug, and looked at Apollo, then Jake. He broke into a smile on seeing the former detective.

“Jake Marshall,” he remarked, letting go of Trucy and extending a hand. “It’s been a long time.”

“Sure has,” Jake replied with a grin. “I’ve just been takin’ care of this greenhorn, showin’ him what’s what.”

He slapped Apollo on the back again. The young attorney stumbled, and noticed to his annoyance that Phoenix was chuckling.

“Is there a reason you’re here?” Apollo asked testily.

His question prompted a guffaw from Jake. “I wouldn’t stand for that kinda disrespect if I were you, partner,” he told Phoenix.

“Just wanted to know how the trial went this morning,” Phoenix replied, composing himself. “Although if you’re here, I guess it went pretty well, huh?”

“Oh.” Apollo slumped a little; now he felt bad. “We bought ourselves another day, at least. We think – I think…” He hesitated, remembering how invested Phoenix was in this case. “…we could make a case for self-defence.”

He watched Phoenix’s smile fade and his expression go blank as the implications of what he’d said sank in. Then the older man looked at him and gave him a faint smile.

“If you think that’s what happened,” Phoenix replied with a nod. He came closer, slipping a hand into his pocket as he walked. “I also came to deliver this.”

He dropped a plastic baggie into Apollo’s hands. Inside was a small, lace handkerchief. Apollo drew it out carefully, holding it by one corner, and spread it out on his hands.

“Maya gave it to me,” Phoenix explained. “Armando had it on him when he died.” He turned to Trucy. “I’ll see you back at home, honey.” He nodded to Jake, and the cowboy shot him with double-barrelled fingers as he turned and walked away.

Trucy came up next to Apollo and had a look at the handkerchief.

“Why would Mr. Armando have a girl’s hanky?” she asked.

Apollo traced the purple flower in the corner with a fingertip. “Not just any girl’s,” he murmured. “I think I know where this came from.”

May 19

Hospital Wing Ward 3

3.26 PM

Jake agreed to wait by the door while Apollo and Trucy went to talk to Iris. Apollo hadn’t forgotten her body language when he’d questioned her earlier. All three of them walking up to her, especially the big cowboy guard in his poncho and spurs, would be too intimidating.

“Nurse Iris?” Apollo called as they approached her. The dark-haired nurse was checking off a patient’s chart and lifted a finger to indicate that she would be with them shortly. Apollo waited while she finished, running over what he wanted to say.

“What can I do for you?” she asked.

Apollo looked her square in the eye.

“I think you did more than just treat Armando for his wounds,” he said. He opened his hand, revealing the handkerchief, neatly folded in his palm with the purple flower on top.

Iris stared at it, blanched, and took a deep breath. She let it out slowly and looked up at him.

“We talked,” she murmured. “The day I treated him. He was…in a bad place.”

(What, prison?) “What did you talk about?” Apollo pressed.

Iris hesitated.

“His behavioural problems,” she admitted finally. “And his life…sad things, mostly.” She nodded at the handkerchief. “I thought he might need it. He didn’t, but…I told him to keep it.”

Apollo nodded. “Nurse Iris,” he began, lowering his voice. “You mentioned Armando’s behavioural problems. I know this might be hard for you to hear, but…” He glanced at Trucy. “…we think maybe there’s a chance that Armando attacked Gavin, not the other way around.”

Her body language changed immediately. The demure nurse stood up straight and stared him down.

“How could you?” she asked quietly. “How could you even –”

Apollo held up his hands. “I’m sorry,” he began. “But we know Armando was prone to violence –”

“He was sick.” A faint blush coloured Iris’ cheeks, but her gaze never faltered. “He was sick, and no-one was helping him.” She paused, and Apollo thought he saw her lip wobble, but in a split second it was gone. “He’s dead now, can’t you leave him alone?”

Apollo realised suddenly that his only sympathetic, available lead was about to clam up on him. He scrambled for a way to smooth things over.

“Please,” he tried, “my client’s only –”

“I have work to do,” Iris said firmly. “Excuse me.”

Apollo cupped his forehead in his hands as she strode past them and into the office at the back of the ward.

“Damn it,” Apollo muttered as they walked back towards the door. “The one person on the medical staff we actually managed to get hold of…”

Trucy tapped her chin thoughtfully.

“She shut you down pretty quickly, Polly,” she murmured. “Doesn’t that tell you something?”

Apollo paused and looked at her.

“…Yeah,” he replied. He glanced over his shoulder, towards the office. “But I don’t think we’re going to get another chance to find out what she’s hiding.” He ran a hand over his hair and sighed. “I just hope the chief medical officer and the psychologist are more helpful...” His spikes drooped. “…if we can find them.”

“No luck, partner?” Jake asked as they arrived back at the door.

“Not enough,” Apollo replied, shaking his head. “I guess all we can do is try to track down Dr. de Áth and Dr. Kovacs.”

“That reminds me!” Jake exclaimed, pushing his hat back a little from his forehead. “Detective Skye arrived just before you two moseyed in. She’s taking another look at the crime scene. Probably oughta talk to her.”

Apollo heaved a sigh. (Thank you so much for conveniently forgetting to tell me until now.)  “I guess we should.” He and Trucy followed Jake as he led them back to A Wing.

May 19

A Wing

3.45 PM

Apollo braced himself for a barrage of Snackoos when they arrived at the crime scene – from what Jake said, Ema’d been on the scene for nearly two hours. But the young detective barely looked up when he called her name. She was standing at the entrance of the cell, contemplating the crime scene.

“Sorry we didn’t get here sooner,” Apollo said, cringing slightly in anticipation.

“My fault,” Jake put in, tugging the brim of his hat.

“Hmm?” Ema glanced around. “Oh, you’re here.” She turned back to the cell, deep in thought. Feeling a little braver, Apollo came closer and stood beside her.

“So…” Apollo shrugged. “…anything new to tell us?”

Ema shook her head slightly. “It’s the damnedest thing,” she murmured. “I can’t figure out how the bunks got knocked over.”

“Yeah, now that you mention it, they look pretty solid,” Trucy agreed.

“Aha!” Ema brightened up and walked over to the bunk beds. “Solid, yes. But stable…” She put her hand on the frame and shook it. The beds wobbled and Apollo saw that the legs were slightly uneven. “…no.” Ema let go and crouched, waving them over. “We found…” She pointed under the bed. “…that piece of card, which they’d used or tried to use to steady this thing.”

Apollo looked, and saw a folded up scrap of grey cardboard lying in the corner of the cell, near the bars.

“Anything interesting about the card?” he asked.

Ema shook her head.

“No,” she answered. She stood up again and Apollo did likewise. “But even though the beds are wobbly…” She shook her head again. “…I still can’t guess what happened in here to make them tip over.”

“The beds were lying on top of Armando and Gavin, right?” Apollo said. “If one of them shoved the other back against the bunkbeds…”

“That’s what I thought at first,” Ema replied. “But we tested it at the crime lab, and it didn’t work.”

“Crime lab?” Trucy asked. “I thought all they did there was analyse blood and fingerprints and stuff.”

Ema smiled, clearly delighted to talk about investigative science.

“Oh, we do that there, too,” she replied, “but we also carry out crime scene reconstruction. We made a replica of the cell and two police officers, roughly the same size as the victim and the defendant, tried shoving each other into the bunks to see if they fell over.”

“But no dice?” Apollo asked.

“None,” Ema answered.

“What if…” Trucy paused and thought for a minute. “…what if they were fighting on the bunks? Like on the top bunk?”

“We tried that too,” Ema replied. “It worked all right, but our victim and defendant rolled off over the toilet and ended up on the other side. When they tried it in the bottom bunk, the beds didn’t move.” She heaved a sigh of frustration. “Eventually we had to take everything down and let the team investigating the fire start building their mock-up. So I came back here to see if I could figure out the answer.”

Apollo frowned. “I thought the cause of the fire was already solved,” he replied. “We got a report this morning that it was caused by an electrical fault.”

“They determined the cause, sure,” Ema explained, “but not how the fire spread. That’s crucial information – if detergent or laundry acted as fuel, if the wall coverings made the smoke more toxic or helped the fire burn faster, or even if the design of the stairwell helped funnel the smoke and helped the flames to travel faster, we need to find out.”

Trucy nodded. “So the forensics team are building a model of the laundry room and the stairs?”

“An exact replica,” Ema replied. “Made with exactly the same materials, with everything just where it was on the night it happened. Then, they’ll cause an electrical fire, let it burn for as long as the real fire did, put it out, and record all the data.” A wistful expression settled on Ema’s face. “Now that’s science.”

(What, setting things on fire?!) Apollo thought.

“You’d rather be doing that than here with us, huh?” Trucy said with a smile.

Ema smirked at her.

“Well, they won’t be starting the reconstruction till tomorrow morning,” she replied. “I just might be assigned to log some of the data.”

(Something tells me you will.) Apollo ran a hand over his hair.

“I guess we’ll be going, if that’s all,” he remarked. “We’ve got some witnesses to track down.”

Ema nodded. “Sure,” she said. “I don’t think I’ll stay much longer, either. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Apollo replied. He turned and walked towards Jake, Trucy following him. The trio headed downstairs, leaving Ema still standing in the entrance of the cell.

Chapter Text

May 19

Prison Morgue

4.20 PM

For the second time, Apollo, Trucy and Jake made their way to the prison morgue and Dr. de Áth’s office.

“I really hope Dr. de Áth’s here this time,” Apollo murmured, glancing at his watch. “I’d like to get some preparation done before tomorrow’s trial.”

“I’d be surprised if he wasn’t,” Jake replied. “Only so many places he can be an’ all.”

They entered the morgue and approached the doctor’s office. As they got close, Apollo noticed blurs of colour and movement through the frosted glass. He slowed down when he heard muffled voices.

“Wait a minute,” he whispered to Trucy, laying a hand on her arm. “Maybe I can hear –”

Jake strode ahead of him and knocked on the door before Apollo could yell stop. The young attorney could only curse his luck as the voices ceased.

“Doc, you in there?”

The door opened and a gruff, stocky man with pepper-and-salt hair, wearing green scrubs, stood in the doorway. Apollo caught a wary, suspicious look on his face before the man schooled his expression into a smile.

“Officer Marshall,” the man remarked. He looked at Apollo and Trucy, and Apollo noticed he was only smiling with his mouth. “You must be Gavin’s defence team.” He extended a hand. “I’m Dr. de Áth, chief medical officer for this facility.”

“Nice to meet you, sir!” Trucy replied, shaking his hand. “I’m Trucy Wright.”

“Apollo Justice,” Apollo said, absently shaking the doctor’s hand. He gazed past him into the office. A tall woman in a white lab coat was standing between the desk and the filing cabinet. She had a startled expression, accentuated by her frizzy ginger hair.

Dr. de Áth noticed Apollo’s gaze, and turned around.

“This is Dr. Kovacs,” he said, introducing the woman.

Apollo came forward a few steps and Dr. de Áth stood aside, inviting them into his office.

“H-hello,” Dr. Kovacs stammered, offering Apollo her hand.

Apollo shook it, eyeing her suspiciously. “Nice to meet you.”

“Well.” Dr. Kovacs cleared her throat and tossed her head a little, flicking some of her hair out of her eyes. “Dr. de Áth, since we’re finished here, I’ll just head back to my office.”

She started to hurry past them and Apollo turned. “Wait! We need to talk to you!”

“O-oh…” Dr. Kovacs paused, eyes darting nervously everywhere but Apollo’s face. “Umm, Dr. de Áth has everything you need, all the psych reports and evaluations…” She cleared her throat again, composing herself. “I’m…” She pointed out the door. “…really very busy, so…I’ll see you in court tomorrow.”

Apollo could only watch as she bolted from the room. (Well, that wasn’t suspicious at all.)

Dr. de Áth cleared his throat behind him and Apollo turned back around.

“Here’s everything we have on Armando’s medical history,” the doctor said. He dropped a hefty-looking file onto his desk with a bang.

Apollo gulped. “That’s…pretty comprehensive.”

Dr. de Áth smiled. “Warden Peace gave me a call and told me what you’d be looking for,” he replied.

(Oh did he?) Apollo gathered the large file into his arms with some difficulty.

“Could you maybe go through this with us?” he huffed.

“I’m afraid not,” Dr. de Áth replied. “I got a lot of work to do.” He began to usher them out of his office. “But everything you need is in there.”

Apollo turned around to protest and the door swung shut in his face.

“Well that was kinda rude,” Trucy observed.

“Somehow, I’m not surprised,” Apollo murmured grimly. He shifted the file to a more comfortable position and looked at Jake. “I think we’re done here for today. Could you show us out, please?”

“Sure,” Jake replied. He began to lead the duo back to the visitors’ area. “Sorry the doc wasn’t more helpful.”

“That’s okay,” Apollo said. He lowered his voice and looked at Trucy. “I think I know just the person who can help us make sense of all this.”

May 19

Hospital Wing Ward 3

4.41 PM

Iris turned away as Officer Marshall, Mr. Justice and Trucy walked past the door to the ward. She let go a sigh of relief when they didn’t come inside. Finished with Mr. Gavin’s chart, Iris went to the nurses’ station to start her paperwork.

Ten minutes later, and she hadn’t written a word. Iris sighed and leaned back in her chair.

“Careful there, little lady.” Officer Marshall laid a hand on her arm. “This bull’s been known to gore.”

She gazed at the figure slumping on the bed, all the fight gone from him now, his right arm shaking uncontrollably and sending droplets of blood to splatter on the floor below.

“It’s all right,” she said, and she didn’t know why, but she was totally, utterly sure of what she said next. “He won’t hurt me.”

Iris shook her head and tapped on the sheet in front of her with her pen. Mr. Godot couldn’t have…no matter what that lawyer said…

…not after…

She stared at the sheet for a long time.

May 19

People Park

6.18 PM

The shabby noodle stand was a welcome sight, and Apollo sighed in relief as he and Trucy parked their bikes. They’d tried a couple of places in the city already, and he’d begun to think they were going to have to stake out Eldoon’s tumbledown house and wait till he got home. He jogged up to the stand, lagging behind Trucy, clutching the huge file carefully.

“Mr. Eldoon!” Trucy called as soon as she was in range. The noodle vendor was in the process of closing up the stand, and paused when he heard her.

“Trucy-doll!” he exclaimed. “And Pollo. I was just about to move onto greener pastures.” He laid a hand on the noodle bowl covering his head. “Not much appetite for noodles around here this evening. So what’ll it be?”

“Actually,” Apollo huffed, catching up to Trucy, “we were hoping you could help us…” He gestured with the file. “…Doctor Eldoon.”

“Sorry, Pollo,” Guy replied, “I’m on the clock right now. Come by my house around ten, we can talk.”

“Ten?!” Apollo exclaimed in dismay, but before he could continue his protest, Trucy interrupted him.

“Pleeeaaaase, Mr. Eldoon?” she begged. “It’s for a murder case, and you’re the best doctor we know.”

She clasped her hands in front of her, gazing at him with big puppydog eyes that contained the barest hint of tears. Apollo gave her an envious glance. (Wish *I* could pull off a look like that.)

“Aw, how can I say no to that face?” Guy remarked. “All right. Business is slow right now anyway.” He opened the back of the wagon and gestured for them to get in. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

They entered the wagon, and Guy switched on the light and closed the shutters. He cleared a space on the ledge next to his cooking equipment, and Apollo put the file on it.

“Now.” Guy removed his wig and slung a stethoscope around his neck. “What can you tell me?”

“This man, Diego Armando, was a prisoner at the State Penitentiary,” Apollo replied. “He was murdered two nights ago in his cell, and his cellmate is the prime suspect.” He glanced at Trucy. “But we think that maybe our client was acting in self-defence. Other prisoners and prison staff said Armando was violent.”

Guy nodded. “So you thought you’d look into that.”

“Right,” Apollo said. “We got his disciplinary records and his medical history…” He laid a hand on the file. “…but the Chief Medical Officer at the prison blew us off when I asked him to go through it with us.” He narrowed his eyes. “Plus, I don’t trust him.”

“Uh-huh,” Guy murmured, nodding. “I get the picture.” He opened the file. “Let’s see here…”

Apollo and Trucy watched as he began to flip through the huge sheaf of papers in the beige folder.

“Poisoned by a nerve agent at the age of twenty-eight,” Guy remarked, “coma for five years…visual prosthetics…developed secondary Parkinsonism in prison…”

“Parkinsonism?” Trucy asked. “You mean that disease where people start shaking and can’t help it?”

“Uh-huh,” Guy answered. “Probably a long-term effect of the poison.” He continued to look through the file. “Aha!” He pulled out what looked like a sheet of acetate and held it up to the light.

“What’s that?” Trucy asked. “An X-ray?”

“No,” Guy replied. “This is an MRI. Like an X-ray, but much more detailed.” He gazed at the sheet for a few seconds. “This particular MRI shows Mr. Armando’s brain.” He gestured for Apollo and Trucy to gather round. “And here’s the source of his violent outbursts.” He pointed to the sheet. “Brain damage.”

“Brain damage?” Apollo repeated. “What would cause that?”

“Since there’s no record of any other head or systemic trauma, probably the poison,” Guy replied. “Damage in this area can cause erratic behaviour, violent outbursts and personality changes.”

“Then maybe he did attack our client,” Apollo replied.

“Maybe,” Guy answered. “Or maybe he was just an angry jerk.” As Apollo slumped, he continued, “But I’d bet my stand his behavioural problems were due to brain damage.”

He turned his attention back to the file, flipping through a few more pages before stopping. “Hmm…”

Apollo came closer. “Did you find something else?”

“Armando’s prescription,” Guy replied. He pulled out a few sheets of paper from the file and gave a low whistle. “He was taking a lot of drugs. Poor fella...” He read through the page and then frowned. “Huh. Every now and then he’d be given a tranquilliser for a number of days.” Guy flipped through the rest of the pages. “There’s no pattern…”

Apollo had a bad feeling. “Does the interval between doses get shorter and shorter?”

Guy went back and checked. “Yeah.”

Apollo took out Diego’s disciplinary record and compared the two.

“The dates match,” he remarked. “Every time Armando acted out…” He swallowed, feeling a little sick. “…they doped him up to keep him quiet.”

“Yeah,” Guy replied, his expression more grim than usual. “But they couldn’t keep him on the tranqs for long, not with all the other drugs he was taking.”

“So when he came off them…” Trucy said, biting her thumb.

“…Armando went right back to being unstable and violent,” Apollo finished.

“He wasn’t being properly treated,” Guy said. He shook his head. “That’s negligence.”

“That’s what she meant,” Apollo declared. He looked at Trucy. “Hawthorne – she said Armando was sick and no-one was helping him.”

“But why would the doctor just leave him to get worse and worse?” Trucy asked in dismay. When Apollo had no answer, she looked at Guy.

“Don’t ask me, Trucy-doll,” he replied. “Could be burn-out, could be he’s not very good at his job…could be he just didn’t care.”

Apollo and Trucy exchanged glances. None of those possible explanations made them feel very good. Guy turned back to the file and continued to look at it.

“Psyche report doesn’t say much,” he remarked. “Armando failed an anger management class twice…disrupted group therapy…” He shook his head, a look of disappointment on his face. “The psychologist recommended that he not be given a cellmate, ever, and signed him over for medical treatment rather than psychiatric treatment. That was at the end of last year.”

“Medical treatment he never got,” Apollo sighed. He ran a hand over his hair, realising that Maya and Pearl were going to hear about all this sooner or later. All the evidence proving that Armando was violent and dangerous suddenly seemed very hollow. He frowned suddenly. “Wait a minute…did you say she recommended that he not have a cellmate?”

“Yep,” Guy replied. “Right here.” He showed Apollo the report.

“But then why was Mr. Gavin put in the cell with him?” Trucy wondered.

Apollo glanced at her. (Someone knows the answer to that question…and something tells me they won’t be eager to talk.)

Guy looked at his watch. “I gotta hurry this up,” he remarked. “Time’s a-wasting and I’ve still got noodles to sell. Let me have a quick look at the autopsy results.”

“We already have that,” Apollo replied, showing it to him.

“No you don’t,” Guy replied. “What you got there is the autopsy report. The results are a more detailed breakdown, with photographs of the body.” He flipped through the file again, turning away from them. Trucy came closer and he gestured for her to go back. “Trust me, Trucy-doll, you don’t wanna see the pictures.”

Apollo fidgeted while Guy read through the autopsy results.

“Nothing unusual here…wait.” Guy turned to look at them. “There’s a page missing.”

“How can you tell?” Apollo asked.

“There oughta be a toxicology report,” Guy explained. “They’re routine whenever a prison inmate dies. Blood and hair samples are analysed for any traces of drugs, to rule out an overdose.”

“You mean like…this?” Apollo looked around as Trucy whipped a page from under her skirt with a flourish. “Magic Panties strike again!”

“Where did you get that?” Apollo asked as she handed the page to Guy. “More importantly, when did you get that?”

“When Officer Marshall was making sure you didn’t take anything from the doctor’s office,” Trucy explained with a grin, “I got that from the desk while he wasn’t looking.” She flicked the brim of her hat, setting it at a jaunty angle. “With powers of distraction like that, you’ll make a great magician’s assistant! Especially when we put you in a sequined vest and some cute hot pants…”

Apollo slumped. “Please stop.”

“Got something,” Guy interrupted. The pair looked up as he continued. “Armando’s blood showed traces of Dopraxitine.” At their blank expressions, he explained, “It’s a mood stabiliser. But…” He fished out the pages detailing Armando’s medications. “…according to this, he was never prescribed this drug.”

Apollo took the page, frowning. (Why would a doctor hide this, unless…) “Is Dopraxitine dangerous?” he asked. “Could Armando have collapsed from an overdose and hit his head that way?”

“Hmm.” Guy thought for a few moments. “The levels in his blood aren’t high enough for him to have overdosed…although side effects can include dizziness and sometimes fainting spells.” He handed the file back to Apollo. “That’s all I can tell you, Pollo. Now, since I did you a favour, could you do one for me?”

Apollo eyed him nervously. “…Sure.”

“Help me tow this thing to my next stop,” Guy replied.

“Wh…WHAAAT?” Apollo exclaimed, but Guy had opened the door and was on his way out.

“Come on, Pollo, chop chop!” he called. “I’m already behind schedule. With two of us, I’ll just about make up the time.”

“Don’t worry, Polly!” Trucy said, jumping down from the wagon. “I’ll put your bike in here so you can cycle home when you’re done!”

“W-wait!” Apollo called. He followed her out, but Guy took him by the arm and shepherded him to the front of the wagon. “You’re not coming with me?”

Trucy loaded Apollo’s bike into the noodle stand and waved to him. “See you back at the Agency, Polly!”

With no choice, Apollo sighed and followed Guy’s instructions as the noodle vendor showed him where to stand and how to grip the handle. As they set off at a pace just a little faster than he was comfortable with, Apollo hoped they didn’t have far to go.

Chapter Text

May 19

Prosecutors’ Office

6.19 PM

Klavier gazed down at his desk and heaved a sigh before pushing his unfinished paperwork back into his in-tray. He stretched in his chair and switched off his computer. Time to go home and walk Vongole. Klavier ran his hand through his fringe. He didn’t want to walk her. Vongole licked his hand when it was offered, and wagged her tail to him, but she knew that Klavier wasn’t Master. He didn’t know why he even kept the stupid dog. Vongole would be long dead by the time Kristoph was released…

And there it was. Klavier sighed again. He kept her because if he was in prison, he’d want to know his beloved dog was being well cared for.

He doubted Kristoph would do the same for him, if their situations were reversed.

Klavier rose from his chair and pulled on his jacket. He flipped off the light switch on his way out, and headed towards the cafeteria. He didn’t know why. There was no point in stalling – at work or at home, he couldn’t escape his own thoughts. Even music, his usual outlet at times like this, was closed off to him. Old songs brought back too many memories, and he hadn’t composed anything new in months. There was no impetus to pick up his guitar and mess around with chords and lyrics, now that there was no record label demanding the next best-selling album. And he didn’t feel much like singing, these days.

It was at times like this that Klavier regretted dissolving the Gavinners. Band rehearsal would give him something to do in the long evenings, and he would have someone else to talk to. But it was the right thing to do, and despite the official story, it wasn’t just because of Daryan. Friends came and went, and the rest of the band had no problem cutting him off after what he’d done. They could’ve gone on hiatus for a while, hired another guitarist, and moved on.

But finding out the true extent of Kristoph’s crimes had shaken Klavier to the core. And he knew that every single interview, concert, album launch, publicity shoot and press conference would bring journalists who wanted to know what it was like to have a killer for a brother. The rest of the guys offered to wait as long as it took, but Klavier knew that wasn’t fair to them. He wished them luck in their music careers and they went their separate ways.

The cafeteria was deserted, everything locked up except for the coffee and snack machines. Klavier rummaged in his pocket for some change, morosely fed the coins into the machine, and bought a coffee he didn’t really want. He added a candy bar, just to have something to do while the scalding coffee cooled to the point where he could drink it, and took a seat by the window.

Klavier sighed as he opened the candy bar wrapper and took a bite. The worst thing was, he’d been making progress. He’d been learning to live with it. He even dared to hope that Kristoph might get better in prison, and someday, when his debt was repaid and he was truly sorry for what he’d done, everything could be just like it was, before all this happened. This latest murder brought all that crashing down.

Klavier pulled his cardboard coffee cup closer, blowing half-heartedly on the near-boiling liquid inside. At least there was some sort of logic - twisted and psychotic, yes, but still there – to Kristoph’s other murders. But this time the victim meant nothing to him. There was nothing to gain by killing him, no patsy to take the fall, no way to conceal or recover the murder weapon. Kristoph had taken his life for no reason at all, simply because he could.

Klavier stared glumly into his coffee, unable to bring himself to drink it. Lost in its black depths, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a voice behind him.

“Klavier Gavin, I presume.”

Klavier turned sharply, then stood up when he saw who had spoken.

“H-Herr Miles Edgeworth!” he stammered, his glum mood temporarily lifting. He’d followed the older man’s career from a young age, and throughout his studies, he’d aspired to be better and more famous than the “Demon Prosecutor”. Edgeworth shot him a faint smile as he walked to the drinks machine.

“I see my fame precedes me,” he remarked, punching the buttons to order a cup of tea. “As does yours.”

Klavier steadied himself with one hand on his chair as the magenta-clad prosecutor carried his drink over to Klavier’s table.

“May I?” Edgeworth asked, indicating a vacant chair.

“J-ja, natürlich,” Klaveir replied. He sat back down, blushing in disbelief at the sudden weakness in his legs. Was this how his fans felt around him?

Edgeworth settled himself and took an experimental sip of tea. He grimaced slightly as he set the cup back down.

“It seems we have a friend in common,” he said.

Klavier played with his bangs, a mirthless smile on his face.

“I don’t think Phoenix Wright considers me a friend,” he replied.

Edgeworth lifted an eyebrow. “I doubt he holds a grudge,” he said. “But I was referring to Detective Skye.”

Still smiling, Klavier looked down and laced his fingers on the table in front of him.

“Ja…again…” He looked up at Edgeworth. “She doesn’t think much of me.”

Edgeworth nodded, and they sat in silence for a few minutes, the older man blowing on his tea occasionally while Klavier’s neglected coffee grew cold.

“I’ve seen you at the prison,” Edgeworth remarked finally. “I rather expected to see you there today, actually.”

“Ja.” Klavier dropped his gaze to the tabletop, feeling guilty that he hadn’t visited Kristoph. He glanced up at the other man, sitting across from him with a neutral expression, and suddenly he was pouring his heart out.

“I – when I saw that photograph in court today, I – I couldn’t. I know he’s my brother, but…” Klavier hung his head, picking at the foil of the candy bar wrapper. “If he had been bad to me, this would be easier.” He glanced up at Edgeworth and then looked away again. “Now every good memory I have of him is…tainted.”

He heard Edgeworth sip his tea.

“Manfred von Karma wasn’t a bad father, you know.”

Klavier looked up, not fully understanding what Edgeworth meant.

“He never treated me any differently to his own children,” the other prosecutor elaborated. “He taught me to shave, how to drive a car…” He smirked slightly. “…how to talk to women. He even came to my chess tournaments.” Edgeworth had another mouthful of tea, grimaced again, and gave up on it. “And yet, it was because of him that my real father wasn’t there to do those things with me.” He shrugged. “It seems like a contradiction…but it’s the truth.”

Klavier pulled nervously at his braid. He had no one to talk to, and if he was hearing correctly, Herr Edgeworth understood what he was going through.

“How…how did you cope?” he asked. “When…” He paused, trying to phrase it tactfully. “…when you found out?”

Edgeworth smirked at him.

“Badly,” he replied. “I left a cowardly note and ran six thousand miles away.” He looked away, a sombre expression on his face. “In doing so, I hurt the people who cared about me, who would have helped me.” He looked back at Klavier with a faint smile. “I was angry with hi- with them for forcing me to confront a dreadful truth.”

Klavier gazed down into his neglected coffee. He didn’t feel angry with Herr Forehead or Herr Wright, and he wasn’t sure who could help him through this. Trucy’s words at the restaurant the previous day flitted through his mind, and he dismissed them again…but not as quickly as he had when she said them in person.

“But a dreadful truth is always better than a comforting lie,” Edgeworth murmured, “or blissful ignorance.” He put the lid back on his abandoned tea, and dropped it in the bin. “Have you eaten?”

It took a moment for Klavier to realise what Edgeworth meant.

“Ah –” He began to rise, but then remembered Vongole waiting for him at home. She would be hungry too, and as much as he resented her at times, none of this was her fault. “…Danke for the invitation, Herr Edgeworth, but I have things to do.”

Edgeworth nodded, a faint smirk appearing briefly on his face. “Another time, then.”

Klavier nodded back. “Another time.”

He sat back down as the older man left, and gazed quietly at his cold coffee for a few minutes. Herr Edgeworth had a point. When he became a prosecutor, he had always sworn to seek the truth, no matter the cost. Now here he was, running from it, instead of facing it down. That wasn’t who he was.

Klavier put the lid back on his coffee and threw it away. The second day of Kristoph’s trial started tomorrow. This time, no matter what happened, no matter what was said or what was presented, he wouldn’t run.

May 19

Wright Anything Agency

7.13 PM

Satisfied that he’d found the most comprehensive and reliable information on Dopraxitine, Apollo hit the ‘Print’ button. He leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. Guy Eldoon was right – the drug could cause dizziness and fainting spells in some subjects. Could Armando have had a bad reaction to the drug? Was it possible that he fell in just the right way for his head to hit the toilet bowl?

Apollo got up to collect the pages from the printer, still deep in thought. It was a long shot, he knew, and the theory that this murder was actually death by misadventure didn’t explain how Kristoph came to be lying on top of Armando with his hands on his shoulders, as if he’d just battered the older man against the toilet bowl. But Dr. de Áth had hidden the toxicology report for a reason. And right now, it was the biggest lead Apollo had.

Apollo carefully stapled the pages together and put them in his briefcase. Both Dr. de Áth and Dr. Kovacs were on the witness list for tomorrow’s trial – ostensibly to provide further evidence about Armando’s injuries, and how Kristoph’s psychological profile meant he could have killed Armando for no apparent reason. Apollo was determined to grill both of them on the drugs in Armando’s system… and why Armando had been assigned a cellmate when he was supposedly such a danger to other inmates.

He picked up his briefcase and prepared to head home for a quiet, pre-trial evening at his own apartment. Trucy bumped into him as he left the tiny office.

“Aw, you’re leaving already?” she said with a pout. “All we ever do together lately is work!”

Apollo stared at her. “…We’re in the middle of a case.”

“I know!” Trucy exclaimed. She followed him through to the cramped living area. “When did we last spend time together as a family?”

“We’ve only been working this case for two days!”

“That’s no excuse!” Trucy shot back. She turned to Phoenix, sitting on the couch. “Tell him, Daddy!”

Taken by surprise, Phoenix looked nervously from his daughter to his protégé and back again. “Uh…”

The door buzzer sounded. With a look of intense relief, Phoenix sprang up and made a beeline for the front door, ignoring Trucy’s reproachful cry of “Daddy!” Apollo watched him go, wondering who could be calling at a time like this.

“Hi, Nick!”

“Maya – Pearls!” Phoenix embraced both women as Trucy followed him to the door. Apollo picked up his briefcase again, intending to make his escape, but his exit was blocked as Maya came towards him.

“Hi, Apollo!” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. As he gasped for air, Maya’s gaze fell on his briefcase. “You’re not leaving, are you?” she said in disappointment. “We brought burgers!”

“Yeah, Polly,” Trucy said in mock-reproach, her hands on her hips, “don’t be rude.”

Apollo heaved a sigh, but it was mostly for show. He hadn’t eaten yet, and a burger or two sounded good right now. He set his case down and allowed Maya and Phoenix to shepherd him into the kitchen, the two teenage girls leading the way.

“…anyway –” Maya paused for another large mouthful of a double cheeseburger with extra everything. “ – since Hugo didn’t stick around, and everything else was taken care of, Pearly and I figured, why not come to the city tonight?” She packed the rest of the burger into her mouth and chewed furiously while reaching for another one. Apollo watched in fascination, wondering idly who would win in a junk-food eating contest between Maya and Ema.

Phoenix nodded. “Where are you staying?” he asked. “The Gatewater?”

“I wish!” Maya laughed. “We’re staying at the Lakewater Motel. It’s like the off-brand Gatewater. It’s where Detective Gumshoe would stay if he was in town.”

“Hey, hey,” Phoenix teased, wagging a finger at her, “don’t make fun of Gumshoe. He gave me some good money-saving tips after I lost my badge.”

Maya swallowed her mouthful of bread and beef and set her burger down. “I’m really glad things turned around for him and Maggey,” she murmured. “They both deserve it, you know?”

“Yeah,” Phoenix replied. He tipped the last of the grape juice into his glass and gazed at it morosely. “It’s been so long since we all got together. I haven’t seen Larry for a while, either.”

“This year, Nick,” Maya said determinedly, tearing into her burger again. “This year, we’re having a reunion. No excuses, I’m tracking everybody down.” She gestured with the remains of her burger, splattering ketchup just inches away from Apollo’s plate. “Anyone who can’t come has to be there by video uplink, or else.”

Phoenix chuckled and sipped his juice.

“Mr. Nick?” Pearl asked. “May Trucy and I be excused, please?”

“Of course, Pearls,” Phoenix replied. He smiled as both girls cleared their plates and disappeared into the cramped lounge to watch TV.

“So, what time does the trial start tomorrow?” Maya asked.

“Ten a.m.,” Apollo answered. He shifted uncomfortably, remembering what he’d uncovered during the day’s investigation. “Look, about that…” He glanced from Maya to Phoenix, and back again. “…some of the things I found out…they might be tough for you to hear.”

“It’s okay, Apollo,” Maya said seriously. She gently laid a hand on his wrist. “Pearly and I just want to know what happened to him.” She smiled again, a teasing tone entering her voice as the sombre moment passed. “Besides, I can’t wait to see you in action. You’re Nick’s protégé, and my big sis pretty much taught him everything he knows.” She nudged Phoenix with her elbow. “Maybe I’ll channel her during the trial, huh? I bet she’d like to see how good a mentor you are.”

As Phoenix teased back, Apollo had a thought.

“Ms. Fey?”

Maya looked at him in surprise, and then smiled. “Don’t be so formal, Apollo!” she giggled. “Call me Maya.”

“Maya,” Apollo began again. “Excuse me, but if you really can channel dead people…then – couldn’t you just…”

He saw her expression change as soon as she realised what he was asking, a serious look tinged with sadness appearing on her face.

“Apollo…the dead don’t always know how they died,” she murmured solemnly. “And they’re just like you and me – they don’t always tell the truth.” She gave him a faint, half-smile. “I’m sorry, but it wouldn’t do any good.”

Apollo nodded, then froze a little when he saw Phoenix frowning at him. He had a nasty feeling he’d just committed a major faux pas.

“Come on, you guys, cheer up!” Maya said brightly, bouncing back to her earlier good mood. “Let’s go watch TV with the girls, huh?”  She began to clear the table and Apollo got up quickly to help.

“I, uh, I didn’t mean to offend just now,” he remarked quietly as he stacked up the plates. “I just…” He paused, unsure how much he wanted to tell her. “…I’m kinda hard up for evidence, I guess.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Maya assured him. “It’s your job to talk to witnesses, and what better witness than the victim, right? It’s only natural to ask.” She jerked her thumb at the back of Phoenix’s head, visible through the open kitchen door, and gave Apollo a conspiratorial grin. “And hey, if he’s mean to you, tell me – I’ll kick his butt.”

Apollo smiled back as they carried everything over to the sink. At least one good thing had come out of this case. He’d made a new friend.

May 19

Lakewater Motel

11:45 PM

Pearl felt a shrinking sensation as she came back to herself, the same one she used to feel when she’d channelled Mystic Mia as a child. She glanced quickly over at the bed and let go a silent sigh of relief when she saw that Mystic Maya was still fast asleep. Quietly she moved closer to the dresser, long shirt billowing around her slender form as she walked.

The note she’d left had been flipped over, and on the back was Mr. Diego’s reply in bold, looping script, neat like his early letters to her, before his hands began to shake. Pearl swallowed, and picked up the sheet of paper.

Her mouth went dry as one sentence – the sentence – leapt out at her.

Maya stirred, and Pearl quickly dove into bed, pulling the covers up to hide both the letter and the teal shirt she wasn’t supposed to have brought with her, and certainly wasn’t supposed to be wearing.

“Pearly?” Maya murmured sleepily. “You all right?”

“Y-yes,” Pearl replied. “I – I just needed the toilet.”

Maya nodded, and was soon fast asleep once more.

Pearl bit her thumb as she read the letter over and over in the orange glow of the streetlight outside their room. It didn’t make any sense.

But she knew Mr. Diego wouldn’t lie to her.

Chapter Text

May 20

Defendant Lobby No. 3

09.50 AM

The defendant lobby was unusually crowded, even for a murder case. The defence team, the lead counsel’s mentor, and, bizarrely, the victim’s next-of-kin were all crammed into the small room. In fact, Apollo noted wryly, everyone was there except the defendant. Kristoph wasn’t strong enough to be in court…or so he claimed. Apollo wasn’t sure whether he was faking it, or – more sinisterly – whether Kristoph was being kept in the hospital wing until the trial was over. If Apollo didn’t get some answers soon, then sick or not he would have to put Kristoph on the stand, and get them that way.

He was jolted out of his thoughts by the sound of Maya’s voice.

“Good luck today, Apollo!” the spirit medium said with a grin. She clasped her hands excitedly in front of her. “I can’t wait to see you give Mr. Edgeworth a run for his money!”

Apollo blushed a little and ran a hand bashfully over his hair. “Well, I’ll do my best.”

“You’ll both be fine,” Phoenix remarked with a brief smile. “I know you’ll give it your all.”

Maya nudged him teasingly. “Oh Nick, just tell them you’re proud of them already!”

Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous grin on his face.

“It’s almost time,” he said, looking at his watch. “We’d better go in if we want to get good seats.”

“We’ll be cheering you on from the gallery!” Maya declared, bouncing on her toes. “Go Team Justice!”

(Please tell me you’re not serious,) Apollo thought, his spikes drooping. He caught sight of Phoenix and noted that the older man wore a similar expression. Phoenix caught his eye and both men quickly looked away.

“Well, let’s go,” Phoenix declared, turning to Pearl. He frowned and looked at her a little more closely. “Pearls? Is everything all right? You look a little pale.”

“I-I’m fine,” Pearl replied. She bit her thumb nervously. “I didn’t sleep very well, that’s all.”

Something bothered Phoenix about her answer, but he let it go. “All right. Come on, let’s go up to the gallery.”

“We’d better go too, Polly,” Trucy said, tugging on her brother’s sleeve. “You won’t make Daddy proud if you get a penalty for being late!”

Apollo rolled his eyes a little and looked over at Maya as she followed Phoenix and Pearl to the exit.

“You go ahead, Trucy,” he told her. As she began to protest, he promised, “I’ll just be a second.”

Trucy headed into the courtroom, and Apollo swiftly crossed the defendant lobby and caught Maya before she went out the door.

“Maya,” he said as she turned towards him, her usual bright smile on her face. Apollo faltered. She’d been so nice to him, even though they’d just met. She hadn’t succumbed to calling him “Polly”, and it was fun to watch her tease and exasperate Phoenix. She’d cared about Armando, and he didn’t want her upset by anything that came out in court.

“What is it, Apollo?” Maya asked.

“Look, I know I said this last night, but…” Apollo ran a hand over his hair. “…the only lead I’ve got…well, it…”

He broke off again, wondering how to say Please don’t hate me without sounding pathetic.

Maya took his hand, her expression sobering.

“Apollo, I visited Diego for the past eight years,” she told him. “I know he had anger issues. I’m betting I know what your lead is.” She gave him a smile. “But it’s not your job to protect me and Pearly. And Diego’s dead now, there’s no way for you to hurt him.” She put her hands on his shoulders and turned him in the direction of the courtroom. “You’re an attorney, and your client’s innocent. So get in there and prove him innocent.”

Apollo looked at her over his shoulder, and smiled. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Before Apollo could react, Maya slapped him on the butt. “For good luck!” she explained, seeing his startled expression.

Apollo turned and swiftly headed for the courtroom before Maya did anything else unexpected. His butt still tingled slightly as he took his place behind the defence bench. (Good luck, huh? Something tells me I’m gonna need it.)

May 20

Courtroom No. 3

10.00 AM

The judge harrumphed as he sat down, and banged his gavel to signal the start of the proceedings.

“This court is now in session,” he declared. “Are all the jurists present?”

Apollo was distracted from the bailiff’s reply as the door of the gallery behind the prosecution bench opened. He watched as Klavier Gavin slipped quietly into the courtroom and took the nearest available seat.

“Is the defence ready?”

A sharp nudge from Trucy made Apollo tune back in, just in time to hear Edgeworth remark, “The defence appears to be day-dreaming about candy bracelets.”

Apollo thumped his fists on the bench, then cringed as he heard Maya’s voice from above him. “Ooh, I love those! Let’s get some after the trial!”

The judge banged his gavel crossly. “Is the defence ready?” he barked.

Apollo composed himself. “The defence is ready, Your Honour.” He directed a smug look at Edgeworth and added, “Regrettably, our client is still too ill to come to court.”

“That is regrettable,” the judge replied. “I prefer to have the defendant present when I hand down a verdict.”

Apollo slumped, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. (You haven’t even heard any testimony yet and you’re already thinking about the verdict?!)

“Mr. Edgeworth,” the judge continued, ignoring the defence’s distress, “please call your first witness.”

Dr. Kovacs didn’t look any less nervous on the witness stand than she had in Dr. de Áth’s office the previous day. Apollo felt glad, though he didn’t let it show. Someone that twitchy was guaranteed to have obvious contradictions in her testimony.

“Witness,” Edgeworth said, “please state your name and occupation.”

Dr. Kovacs gave a nervous little grin.

“I’m Dr. Miriam Kovacs, and I’m the prison psychologist at the State Penitentiary.”

Edgeworth picked up a sheet of paper from the bench in front of him, and adjusted his glasses.

“Dr. Kovacs, the defence alleged yesterday that the victim, Diego Armando, was mentally unstable at the time of the murder,” Edgeworth declared. “As prison psychologist, you had the opportunity – particularly in the victim’s case, as he had been incarcerated for the past eight years – to observe and psychologically assess both men, correct?”

Kovacs nodded, flicking a stray lock of red hair out of her face. “That’s, um, that’s correct.”

“Very good,” Edgeworth replied with a small smile. “Would you please testify as to the psychological profiles of both the victim and the defendant?”

Kovacs looked flustered by this request. “You mean…both at the same time, or…?”

Edgeworth’s smile dimmed a little. “Perhaps you could start with the defendant.”

“Oh! Sure,” Kovacs replied with a nervous grin. She fumbled with her clipboard. “Just…let me get my notes here…”

While they waited for the witness to get organised, Edgeworth cleaned his glasses on his handkerchief. Apollo scrutinised him as he did so. The prosecutor had done it several times during the previous day’s trial, to feign indifference or mask annoyance. Apollo wondered if Edgeworth was aware that he had such an obvious tic.

“All set!” Kovacs chirped, flicking her hair out of her face again. Apollo watched her closely. Her smile was cheerful enough, but she was clearly still very nervous.

Edgeworth slid his glasses back onto his face. “Then please testify about the psychological profile of the defendant, Kristoph Gavin.”

“I’ve been working with Mr. Gavin closely since he arrived at the penitentiary,” Dr. Kovacs began, “and I’ve determined that he has the traits of a psychopath.”

“Could you elaborate?” Edgeworth asked.

“He feels no remorse for what he’s done,” Dr. Kovacs explained, “and has no empathy with his victims. It’s as if his crimes were a game and they were his opponents. I had to be careful in our one on one sessions,” she added. “He’s very manipulative…” A wistful expression appeared on her face. “…and charming.”

Edgeworth slipped his glasses off and began to clean them again. Apollo wondered how the lenses hadn’t worn away.

“Could you tell us what motivates a psychopath?” he asked. “Why do they commit crimes?”

“Well, not every psychopath commits crimes,” Dr. Kovacs corrected him, wagging her finger. “But they all take pleasure in fooling people. When they lie and manipulate, they feel no remorse – only pride in their own cleverness at getting away with anti-social behaviour.”

Apollo remembered his first day on the job, how smooth and charming Mr. Gavin had seemed, and what a shock it was to discover that the man he’d once looked up to as his mentor in law turned out to be a killer. He couldn’t help wondering if Kristoph had taken pleasure in his devastation, even as he exposed him on the stand.

“Was Mr. Gavin undergoing any therapy in an attempt to correct these traits?” Edgeworth asked.

“Oh, no,” Dr. Kovacs said seriously, with a shake of her head. “Unfortunately, the adult psychopath is untreatable.”

Apollo glanced up at the gallery where Klavier was sitting. The younger Gavin covered his face with both hands, and held them there for a few seconds before slowly bringing them down over his mouth and nose.

“But we study the ones we have in captivity in the hope that we can someday find a way to help them,” Dr. Kovacs continued.

Apollo had a nasty feeling that someone like Kristoph Gavin would scoff at the idea of being “helped”.

“Important work indeed,” declared the judge. “Is that all, witness?” He paused as Dr. Kovacs nodded her head, and Edgeworth indicated that he had no further questions.

“I didn’t see any contradictions, Polly,” Trucy murmured. “All of that sounds like Mr. Gavin.”

“Yeah,” Apollo replied, “but something didn’t sound like this case.”

Trucy flicked the brim of her hat, adjusting its angle. “We can work with that.”

“Please proceed with the cross-examination, Mr. Justice,” said the judge.

Dr. Kovacs began to recap her testimony.

“I’ve been working with Mr. Gavin closely since he arrived at the penitentiary, and I’ve determined that he has the traits of a psychopath.”

“Hold it!” Apollo shouted. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

Dr. Kovacs smirked and made a dismissive noise.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe through interviews, Rorschach tests, reading his case file…” She tossed her head, flicking a stray lock of hair out of her face. “You know, psychologist stuff.”

Apollo thudded his fists lightly on the bench, a blush creeping over his face as he noticed Edgeworth smirking at him from across the courtroom. “O-of course. Just…making sure.” He composed himself and said, “Please continue.”

“He feels no remorse for what he’s done,” Dr. Kovacs said, “and has no empathy with his victims. It’s as if his crimes were a game and they were his opponents. I had to be careful in our one on one sessions. He’s very manipulative…and charming.”

“Hold it!” Apollo interrupted. “You said he was manipulative. Is that how he managed to corrupt the prison guards?”

“Yes,” Kovacs replied. “Mr. Gavin is quite the charmer.”

Apollo eyed her suspiciously. “But you didn’t fall for his tricks.”

Dr. Kovacs chuckled. “Well if I had, I wouldn’t be testifying against him, now would I?” she answered.

“Don’t you get tired of clutching at straws, Justice?” Edgeworth asked, a bored expression on his face. Before Apollo could come up with a reply, the prosecutor added, “Continue with your testimony, witness.”

Apollo clenched his fists briefly, but let it go. The most important piece of the psychologist’s testimony was coming up.

“Not every psychopath commits crimes,” Dr. Kovacs explained. “But they all take pleasure in fooling people. When they lie and manipulate, they feel no remorse – only pride in their own cleverness at getting away with anti-social behaviour.”

“Objection!”

In the silence that fell over the courtroom, Maya’s whisper of “Ooh, Nick, he’s even better than you!” seemed impossibly loud. Edgeworth smirked, gaze flicking up to the gallery where Phoenix was sitting. Apollo kept his composure. The evidence he presented next was crucial.

“Dr. Kovacs,” he said, “you said just now that psychopaths take pleasure in fooling people, in getting away with anti-social behaviour.”

“That’s right,” Kovacs replied. “In fact, for many psychopaths, deception is the main goal, not the behaviour.”

Apollo smiled.

“Then I have one question for you, doctor,” he said. “Where was the deception in this crime?”

Kovacs frowned. “I…I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean…?”

“Prosecutor Edgeworth does,” Apollo answered with a smirk. The older man was hunched over the bench, sweat shining on his face. “Take a look at the crime scene photograph.”

The photo was displayed on the screen in the courtroom. Apollo pointed to Kristoph’s unconscious form, lying on top of Armando’s body.

“This picture shows how the defendant and victim were found on the night of the murder,” he declared. “It’s arguably the most important piece of evidence in the prosecution’s case. So I’ll ask you again, Dr. Kovacs…”

Apollo pointed dramatically at the witness.

“…how did Kristoph Gavin expect to deceive the authorities and get away with this murder?”

“O-objection!” Edgeworth managed. “The defence can’t expect the witness to testify about the defendant’s thought processes –”

“Objection!” Apollo interrupted. “The witness has already testified about what motivates a psychopath to commit crimes. She stated very clearly that fooling people plays a huge role in their motivation.” He pointed to the crime scene photograph again. “How did Gavin expect to fool anyone by using this method of murder, and being found in this position?”

“You believe he’s innocent,” Edgeworth fired back angrily. “Given your past history, perhaps that’s enough to satisfy him.”

Apollo was momentarily stunned.

“Objection!” Phoenix stood up in the gallery. “That’s beneath you, Prosecutor!”

“If you want to conduct the defence, Wright, come back with a badge!” Edgeworth snapped.

“Hey!” Maya and Trucy shouted in unison.

The judge banged his gavel several times.

“Order!” he barked. The commotion ebbed, and he directed a frown at Dr. Kovacs. “Witness, answer the question.”

Flustered, Dr. Kovacs attempted to compose herself.

“Look, there are no hard and fast rules with psychopaths, okay?” she said defensively. “Maybe he just really wanted the victim dead. Maybe he was planning to clean everything up and make it look like an accident but the smoke got to him first. What do you want from me?!”

“Or maybe Gavin was acting in self defence,” Apollo remarked.

Kovacs shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

Apollo considered pressing her further, but decided there was no need. He’d established that the murder didn’t fit Kristoph’s usual M.O.; they could move onto Armando’s psychological profile, and he could press her as much as he wanted.

“No further questions, Your Honour.”

Chapter Text

The judge nodded. “Very well. Let’s move on…” He directed a stern glare at the gallery. “…and I must warn all spectators that I will not tolerate any further outbursts.”

Trucy turned and looked up at the gallery behind them.

“Daddy looks pretty mad,” she whispered to Apollo. “I hope he doesn’t start fighting with Mr. Edgeworth again.”

Apollo glanced at her but didn’t say anything. He felt a little strange. For the first time since Phoenix had stepped behind the bench in Apollo’s very first trial, the young attorney actually felt grateful for the older man’s help. Maybe that was the mark of a real mentor – someone who came through for you when it counted, instead of hiding a pack of lies behind a pleasant smile…

Edgeworth cleared his throat, still a little ruffled from the cross-examination. Apollo straightened up. No time for idle musings now – there was a trial to win.

“Witness,” Edgeworth declared, looking over the court transcript from the previous day. “The defence theorised yesterday that the victim, Diego Armando, was violent and unstable in the months leading up to the murder.” He jabbed a finger at her. “Did you see Mr. Armando in your professional capacity?”

“Yes,” Dr. Kovacs replied. “Mr. Armando was referred to me for assessment and treatment in October of last year. He’d been acting out violently for a number of months and was getting worse.”

Edgeworth nodded. “What did your assessment show?”

“From reading his case file, it seemed like each of his assaults were triggered by very minor events,” Kovacs replied. “His reaction was completely out of proportion. And when I finally got him to talk about them, he said he just ‘lost control’ each time.”

“Did you prescribe any treatment?” Edgeworth asked.

“I referred him to anger management classes. Twice,” Dr. Kovacs replied. She shrugged her shoulders slightly. “He completed the first course, but failed to apply it back in general population. He walked out of the second one two classes in.”

Apollo stole a glance at the gallery behind him. Maya looked serious and grave, an expression that was all wrong on her. Pearl was nervous; Phoenix was attentive. Apollo turned back to the witness stand.

“Was this the only treatment Mr. Armando received?”

Kovacs shrugged slightly. “We tried group therapy, but Armando walked out of that too,” she said. “Claimed that it was a waste of time trying to-” She added air quotes. “‘get in his head’. He kept insisting there was something physically wrong with him.” Kovacs glanced down at her clipboard. “So in the end I referred him to Dr. de Áth, the chief medical officer, who took over his case.”

“When exactly was this?” Edgeworth asked.

“Umm, December,” Kovacs answered. “Just before Christmas.”

Edgeworth gazed at her with a serious expression. “Doctor Kovacs, did you, at any time, consider Diego Armando to be a danger to other inmates and prison staff?”

Dr. Kovacs hesitated – for a split second – before shaking her head.

“He was no more dangerous than any other prisoner,” she replied.

Edgeworth lifted an eyebrow, and jabbed his finger in her direction as he spoke. “Even though he regularly had outbursts of violent behaviour?”

Kovacs cleared her throat. “Mm-hm. Yeah.” Edgeworth didn’t reply, and the doctor continued, somewhat flustered. “Well – I mean – define ‘a danger’.” Kovacs swept her frizzy red hair back out of her face. “You have to realise that all these guys have a capacity for violence. You can’t turn your back on any of them.” She shrugged. “Armando…wasn’t all that different.”

“Thank you,” Edgeworth replied. “No further questions, Your Honour.”

“Mr. Justice, you may now cross-examine the witness,” the judge declared.

Apollo fixed Kovacs with a steely stare, a faint smile crossing his face. Her testimony checked out…if you didn’t have Armando’s psych report in front of you. He wondered idly if Edgeworth had read it and was covering it up, or if the famed prosecutor had managed to overlook it. (Either way, it'll be easy to expose her deception…and embarrass that pompous stuffed shirt, too!)

Apollo tensed as the psychologist went through her testimony again, waiting for her to get to the most important part.

“In my opinion, Diego Armando was no more dangerous than any other prisoner.”

“Objection!”

Kovacs blanched and swallowed nervously, and Apollo smirked – she knew exactly what he was going to say. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Edgeworth direct a sharp stare at him.

“Dr. Kovacs,” Apollo said, taking Diego’s medical files from the court record, “you said just now that you didn’t consider Diego Armando to be especially dangerous.”

Kovacs shifted on her feet, tossed her red hair out of her face, and tried unsuccessfully to compose herself. “Yes.”

Apollo flicked leisurely through the file, then looked at her, eyebrow raised. “Is that your final answer?”

Dr. Kovacs cleared her throat, fingers clenching around the edges of her clipboard, striving for control. “Yes.”

Apollo folded his arms and smirked at her. “Looks like I’ll have to call your bluff.”

Edgeworth broke in, irritation seeping through his calm façade. “Is there a point to this inane back-and-forth with the witness?”

Apollo ignored him, pretending to shuffle through the papers in front of him before plucking the topmost one from the pile. “Dr. Kovacs, did you prepare a psyche report for Diego Armando before you referred him to the chief medical officer?”

Kovacs nodded. “Yes,” she gulped. “Yes, I did.”

“Your Honour,” Apollo said, “I have here the psyche report in question.” He held up the report, turning it to face the courtroom. “It confirms the witness’s testimony…except for one part, that I’ve highlighted here in pink.” Apollo pointed to the sentences in question, and flipped the report back around. “ ‘Patient exhibits violent, erratic behaviour and poses a serious threat to others. Therefore, recommend he never…’ ” Apollo paused for emphasis. “ ‘…have a cellmate.’”

There were murmurs from the gallery as Edgeworth recoiled from the bench like it was burning hot. “Wh…WHAAAT?!”

Apollo smirked as he passed copies of the report to the judge and Edgeworth.

“Tell me something, doctor,” he asked, fixing the witness with a hard stare, “if Diego Armando was no more dangerous than any other prisoner, why did you recommend he never have a cellmate?”

Dr. Kovacs was turning green.

“I-I – look, I misunderstood the question,” she floundered. “At-at the time I signed him over for medical treatment I considered him dangerous, but after…”

Apollo cut her off. “I’m afraid that won’t do, Dr. Kovacs,” he replied. “Prosecutor Edgeworth was very clear when he asked you earlier. He asked if you, at any time, considered Armando to be dangerous.”

The judge frowned as Kovacs continued to flounder.

“Witness,” he remarked sternly, “I take a very dim view of those who wish to turn this hallowed hall of justice into a den of lies.”

“Who knew the judge had a flair for the dramatic?” Trucy whispered.

“Do you wish to revise your testimony?” the judge asked.

Kovacs looked at the judge, then at the prosecution bench. Edgeworth was directing a glare her way. Apollo wasn’t surprised – the older man didn’t like being made to look foolish.

“…Yes,” Kovacs whispered. “Yes, I – I’d like to revise my testimony.”

Edgeworth whipped his glasses off with a flourish and cleaned them furiously.

“Then I’ll ask you again, witness,” he remarked crossly. “Did you consider Diego Armando to be particularly dangerous?”

“…Yes,” Kovacs admitted. She shifted uncomfortably. “Given his disciplinary record and his hostile attitude to therapy, I thought it wouldn’t be wise for anyone to be alone with him…” She glanced down at her clipboard. “…including me. I never had a one-on-one session with him.”

Edgeworth pinched the bridge of his nose. “And you didn’t think to mention this before?!”

Kovacs blushed. Edgeworth replaced his glasses and slammed his hand on the bench. “Witness! Why did you omit this from your testimony?”

Kovacs stubbornly remained silent.

“Because Armando did get a cellmate,” Apollo guessed. “Because less than four months after you wrote this report, somebody overruled your recommendation.”

Kovacs whipped her head around, her frizzy ginger hair flying everywhere as she stared at him like a deer in the headlights. Apollo waited for Edgeworth to object to his interruption, but the prosecutor simply gazed at the witness, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Justice, you’re forgetting that Armando’s case was referred to the chief medical officer at the end of last year,” Edgeworth said at last. “He may have had cause to believe Armando was no longer a threat to others.” He stared at Kovacs. “Doctor?”

“Huh?” Dr. Kovacs’ gaze darted all around the courtroom. “Oh, oh yeah. It’s possible. I, I didn’t deal with Armando after last December.” She glanced at the judge. “At all.”

“The prosecution has no further questions for this witness,” Edgeworth remarked.

The judge directed his gaze at Apollo. “Mr. Justice, do you wish to further cross-examine the witness?”

Apollo stared at Dr. Kovacs. She was intensely nervous now, fidgeting on the stand, every movement signalling her desire for it to be over. He’d caught her in a lie, and it was now on record that Armando was considered dangerous as late as December of last year. There was nothing more he could get from her.

“The defence has no further questions, Your Honour,” he answered.

The judge nodded. “The witness is excused,” he declared, banging his gavel.

The spectators in the gallery murmured as the psychologist stepped down from the stand, still slightly green around the gills, and hurried from the courtroom. Apollo folded his arms and gazed across the room at Edgeworth. The older man was looking down at the bench, turning over a sheet of paper. He looked up, and their eyes met.

The judge banged his gavel to settle everyone down. “Prosecutor Edgeworth, please call your next witness.”

Edgeworth held Apollo’s gaze for a second, then abruptly broke eye contact. “Your Honour, the prosecution calls Dr. de Áth to the stand.”

Chapter Text

For his court appearance, Dr. de Áth was wearing a white lab coat over dark slacks. The coat seemed a little too small for him, the middlemost buttons straining slightly against his stocky belly. A white shirt and red tie were visible above the topmost button of his lab coat.

“Witness,” Edgeworth began, “please state your name and occupation for the record.”

“Doctor Todd de Áth,” the doctor replied smoothly, “chief medical officer at the State Penitentiary.”

Edgeworth shuffled through some papers on his bench. “Doctor, you oversee the medical care of the inmates – either treating them directly or supervising other medical personnel, correct?”

“Yes,” de Áth replied. “I also conduct autopsies when the need arises, and take care of administrative duties – overseeing drug prescriptions and so on.”

“Dr. de Áth,” Edgeworth continued, “I had intended for you to testify about the autopsy you conducted on Diego Armando. However,” he removed his glasses and polished them again, “due to recent events, the court requires some clarification as to Armando’s medical condition prior to his death.” Edgeworth slipped his glasses back on. “Are you prepared to testify about this matter?”

The doctor nodded.

“I had a feeling this might come up,” he answered with a smile. “I’ll answer any question the court may have about Armando’s medical history.”

“Very well,” Edgeworth replied. “Diego Armando was referred to you for medical treatment in late December of last year, correct?”

“Yes,” Dr. de Áth replied.

“To you personally?” Edgeworth asked.

“Yes,” the doctor clarified. “I took charge of his case because of the…effect he was having on the other prisoners.”

“His violent outbursts,” Edgeworth suggested.

“That’s correct,” de Áth replied. He paused, expecting another question. Edgeworth motioned for him to continue. “I saw Armando for the first time right before Christmas Eve – a preliminary examination prior to more in-depth testing, which I began on January 3^rd of this year.”

“Based on those tests, what can you tell us about Armando’s physical condition?” Edgeworth asked.

“From his medical records, I already knew he’d been poisoned several years earlier,” Dr. de Áth answered. “He had some existing medical problems which we’d been treating since he was first incarcerated – he was completely blind without visual prosthetics, he had nerve damage which left him with tremors in his hands and legs…he was in bad shape for someone his age.”

Edgeworth nodded. Apollo followed along attentively, flicking his thumb against the pages of Diego’s medical file.

“I knew from Dr. Kovacs’ evaluation that Armando thought his anger issues had a physical cause rather than a psychological one,” the doctor continued. “So I decided to take an MRI of his brain to check for any irregularities.”

Edgeworth produced the acetate sheet with the MRI of Armando’s brain. “That would be this picture?”

“Yes,” de Áth confirmed.

“Looks like Mr. Edgeworth has his own copy of the victim’s medical records,” Trucy whispered.

“Yeah,” Apollo whispered back. He discreetly slid the toxicology report out of the folder containing the autopsy results. “But I’ll bet he doesn’t have this.”

“The MRI showed that Armando had sustained neurological damage in an area that could cause impulsive or erratic behaviour, personality changes or even violent outbursts,” the doctor continued.

“Could you show the court, please?” Edgeworth asked, handing the sheet to the bailiff.

“Of course.” Dr. de Áth stepped off the witness stand as the MRI was displayed on the screens in the courtroom. He pointed to the same areas that Guy Eldoon had shown Apollo and Trucy the day before. “Here, and here.”

“Wait a minute!” the judge exclaimed, blinking in surprise. “Prosecutor Edgeworth, that looks like a picture of someone’s insides!”

Apollo caught a flash of disbelief on Edgeworth’s face before the prosecutor schooled his expression into a more neutral one. “Yes, Your Honour.”

“I thought an MRI was some sort of music thing!” the judge remarked.

Edgeworth slid his glasses off his face and began to clean them, slowly and deliberately, unable to keep the irritation from his voice. “…That is an mp3, Your Honour.”

The judge gave him a dirty look. “Watch your tone, prosecutor.” Apollo couldn’t help smirking as Edgeworth put his glasses back on. The judge turned his attention to the doctor. “Witness, continue with your testimony.”

“Given these results,” de Áth finished, “I began to treat Armando medically, to the best of my ability.”

“How?” Edgeworth asked.

“Drug treatments,” the doctor elaborated. “Given his physical condition and dependence on visual prosthetics, I didn’t think it would be safe for him to undergo surgery.”

“Were these treatments successful?” Edgeworth asked.

The doctor smiled. “I think Armando’s disciplinary record is proof that they were.”

Apollo narrowed his eyes. Sure it was, as long as you didn’t compare the dates Armando was prescribed tranquillisers with the dates of each violent incident…and ignored the fact that for two and a half months, the “drug treatment” didn’t do a damn thing to improve Armando’s behaviour.

“Thank you, doctor,” Edgeworth said.

“Mr. Justice, you may now cross-examine the witness,” the judge declared.

Apollo gazed at Dr. de Áth as he recapped his testimony, checking each of the doctor’s statements against the existing evidence.

“Diego Armando was referred to me for medical treatment in late December of last year,” the doctor repeated. “I saw him for the first time right before Christmas Eve, and began more in-depth testing on January 3^rd of this year.”

Apollo simply nodded. No point in pressing him yet.

“He’d been poisoned several years earlier,” Dr. de Áth continued, “and had some existing medical problems which we’d been treating since he was first incarcerated.”

“Hold it!” Apollo yelled. “Did any of these medical problems contribute to Armando’s death?”

De Áth looked as if he’d been caught off-guard. “No,” he replied.

“How can you be sure?” Apollo pressed.

“Because I conducted the autopsy,” Dr. de Áth replied, his expression darkening to a scowl.

“Which the doctor will be testifying about momentarily,” Edgeworth cut in smoothly. He wagged his finger at the defence team. “Patience is a virtue, Mr. Justice – one it would be worth your while to develop.” As Apollo glared at him, Edgeworth remarked, “Please continue with your testimony, doctor.”

“An MRI showed that Armando was suffering from neurological damage, which was probably the cause of his behavioural problems,” Dr. de Áth continued. “I chose to treat Armando using medication, as I felt surgery would be too risky for a man in his condition.”

“Objection!”

Apollo slid Diego’s prescription record out of his file.

“Dr. de Áth,” he said, “you claim you treated Armando’s condition using medication.”

“Yes,” the doctor replied. Apollo hesitated, surprised by how calm he sounded. He recovered quickly and continued.

“I happen to have here a record of the drugs Armando was prescribed during his stay in prison,” Apollo declared. “The defence’s medical expert –” he paused while Maya “ooh!”ed in the gallery behind him, “ – identified the ones he’d been taking since the beginning of his incarceration. There was only one new drug that Armando had been prescribed in the last twelve months. I’ve highlighted it in yellow.” Apollo passed the sheet of paper to the doctor. “Could you tell the court what it is, please.”

Dr. de Áth looked at the sheet. “Somnidryl,” he replied.

Apollo gazed at him for a couple of seconds. (Why is he so calm?!) “What exactly is Somnidryl?” he pressed.

“It’s a tranquilliser,” de Áth answered, “given intravenously.”

Apollo took the sheet back. “This tranquilliser was the only new drug used to treat Diego Armando,” he declared. “When the prescription record is compared with Armando’s disciplinary record,” he held up the second sheet of paper, “it’s clear that Armando received this tranquilliser every time he had a violent episode.”

He handed the sheets of paper to the bailiff, who passed them to the judge. Apollo stole a glance at Edgeworth while the judge looked over the documents. The prosecutor was gazing at his own set of documents, but seemed curiously unruffled. Apollo pointed a finger at the doctor.

“You weren’t treating Armando’s neurological condition at all!” he accused. “You just doped him up to make him easier to manage!”

“And it worked,” de Áth shot back, a note of anger creeping into his voice. “Check the records.”

“No it didn’t!” Apollo shouted. “Every time Armando came off the tranquilliser, he went right back to being unstable and violent!”

Dr. de Áth slammed his palms on the witness stand, going red in the face. “I treated him to the best of my ability –”

Apollo banged his fists on the bench, cutting him off. “How can you call that the best treatment? How can you call it any kind of treatment?!”

The judge banged his gavel several times. “Order!” Apollo felt Trucy’s hand on his arm and allowed her to pull him back from the bench. He felt a little shaky. (Wow, did I get hot? Where did that come from?)

“Witness,” the judge remarked, looking from one document to the other, “can you explain why you treated Mr. Armando with this particular drug?”

The doctor glared at Apollo for a moment, then glanced at the judge. “Your Honour, a prison hospital isn’t much better than a field hospital. Our resources are limited. To get Armando’s MRI, we had to take him to County General under guard. Prescribing tranquillisers was all I could do for him.”

Apollo glared at him, fingertips brushing against the toxicology report. “Objection!”

“You work in a prison hospital?” Dr. de Áth shouted. “You know better than the Chief Medical Officer what treatment options were available?!”

The judge banged his gavel again. “ORDER! Order in this court!” He glared at Apollo. “Mr. Justice, unless that piece of paper is a complete inventory of all the drugs in the prison hospital, I suggest you withdraw your objection.”

Apollo recoiled slightly, surprised at the judge flat-out refusing to let him present any evidence. He thought about arguing with the judge, but if he didn’t manage to convince him to consider the toxicology report, then de Áth would know he had it – and Apollo wanted to keep the element of surprise. The best thing to do would be to sit on it for now, and wait till the doctor testified about Armando’s autopsy.

“Withdrawn, Your Honour.”

“A wise decision,” the judge replied, directing a stern look his way.

Apollo stepped back from the bench and ran his hand over his hair, blowing out a breath. He looked across the courtroom at Edgeworth. The prosecutor had one hand flat on the bench in front of him, a steely gaze locked on the doctor.

“Prosecutor Edgeworth,” the judge said, “you may proceed.”

Edgeworth stared at Dr. de Áth for a few seconds longer, then straightened up.

“Thank you, Your Honour.”

Chapter Text

The doctor looked decidedly less calm now, which suited Apollo just fine. He stared at the witness, his fingers twitching against the toxicology report.

“Take it easy, Polly!” Trucy whispered urgently. “I know things are getting intense, but you’ve got to stay calm or you’re going to make mistakes!”

Apollo glanced at her and took a deep breath.

“You’re right,” he admitted quietly. He took some more slow, deep breaths, making a conscious effort to relax.

“Witness,” Edgeworth said, cool and in control. “You conducted the autopsy on Diego Armando, correct?”

Dr. de Áth tore his gaze away from the defence bench and looked at the prosecutor. “Y-yes, that’s correct.”

“What were your findings?” Edgeworth asked.

The doctor relaxed a little.

“The cause of death was obvious,” he replied. “Armando had sustained a blow to the head, which severely fractured his skull.” Dr. de Áth glanced briefly up at the gallery, towards Maya and Pearl. “He would have died almost immediately.”

“How exactly did he receive this injury?” Edgeworth asked.

“Based on the available evidence,” de Áth answered, “it seems likely that someone caused his head to strike the toilet bowl in his cell with enough force to fracture his skull.”

Edgeworth jabbed a finger at him. “And you’re satisfied that none of Armando’s existing medical conditions, or any of the medications he was taking at the time, contributed to his demise?”

The doctor nodded. “Absolutely. This was murder, pure and simple.”

Edgeworth picked a familiar-looking folder from the bench in front of him and handed it to the bailiff. “Your Honour, this is a copy of the complete autopsy results for Diego Armando.” The judge accepted it and began to leaf through it. “As you can see, they correspond perfectly with the testimony the court has just heard.” Edgeworth took a bow. “The questions raised by the defence regarding Armando’s medical treatment, while troubling, are irrelevant.”

Apollo clenched his fists. (I’ll show you…!)

The judge directed his attention to the attorney’s bench. “Mr. Justice, you may cross-examine the witness.”

The doctor began to repeat his testimony. There was only one statement Apollo was interested in, and he waited patiently till Dr. de Áth got to it.

“Neither Armando’s existing medical conditions, nor the medications he was taking at the time, contributed to his death.”

“Objection!”

De Áth looked a little startled by the interruption. “W-what?”

“Dr. de Áth,” Apollo began, “you conducted the autopsy yourself.”

The doctor bristled. “I already told you that.”

“And you were the one who compiled the results,” Apollo held up the file, “correct?”

De Áth nodded. “Of course.”

Apollo tapped his fingers against the file. “And you provided a complete copy of Armando’s autopsy results to myself and Prosecutor Edgeworth.” He gazed at the witness. “Is that also correct?”

“Justice,” Edgeworth interrupted, jabbing his finger at the young attorney, “is there a contradiction sometime in our future?”

“Yes, get to the point,” the judge agreed. “I have cookery class this afternoon.”

“Certainly, Your Honour,” Apollo replied. “As I was saying, both Prosecutor Edgeworth and I have a complete copy of Armando’s autopsy results.” He plucked a piece of paper from the court record. “Mr. Edgeworth, if you look at the toxicology report, I think you’ll see something that conflicts with the doctor’s testimony…” Apollo deliberately trailed off, watching as Edgeworth flipped through the autopsy results, his frown deepening as he doubled back through the file.

Dr. de Áth was gripping the edge of the witness stand, mouth pressed into a tight line.

Edgeworth looked up sharply. “Justice…where did you get that?”

Apollo smirked. “My assistant found it, hidden in the witness’s office.”

There were frantic murmurs from the gallery, and the judge banged his gavel once to restore order. Apollo continued.

“The defence enters the toxicology report into evidence,” he said. He passed a copy of the report to the bailiff, who gave it to Edgeworth. “The toxicology tests carried out during the autopsy show something that, according to Armando’s medical records, shouldn’t be there.” He folded his arms and smirked at the doctor, who was glaring at him with a look of pure hatred. “And that something is a mood stabiliser called Dopraxitine.”

He gave Edgeworth a moment to check the toxicology results against Diego’s prescription records. The prosecutor looked up sharply, and then slammed his hand on the bench.

“Why was this hidden from me?!” he shouted. The doctor didn’t reply. “Witness! Explain yourself!”

“It wasn’t ‘hidden’!” de Áth protested. “I…it must’ve fallen out of the file when I took it to be photocopied.”

“Objection!” Apollo shouted. “That doesn’t explain how it wound up in your desk drawer – and besides, one would think you’d check such an important piece of evidence before handing it over to a prosecuting attorney.”

“You obviously have some cockamamie explanation for why I ‘hid’ that,” the doctor blustered. “So why don’t you tell me?”

“Fine,” Apollo answered with a smirk. “I think you hid the report because it gives another possible cause of death.”

“Wait, wait!” the judge interrupted. “You’ve lost me.” Apollo slumped. (I think I’m going to die of non-surprise.) “What other cause of death?”

“Simple, Your Honour,” Apollo answered. He brandished the toxicology report. “Dopraxitine is a mood stabiliser, used to ‘even out’ people who suffer from extremes of mood and behaviour…like those that the victim, Diego Armando suffered. However, its side effects include dizziness and fainting spells.” Apollo folded his arms and smirked at the witness. “So isn’t it possible, doctor, that Armando got dizzy or fainted that night, causing him to fall and crack his head against the toilet bowl?”

De Áth licked his lips nervously. “No, it’s possible.”

Apollo nodded. “Of course not. Because according to the prescription record that you supplied, Armando wasn’t even taking this drug.” He banged his fists on the bench and pointed accusingly at the doctor. “That’s why it had to be murder – because if you prescribed a drug for a prisoner, and he later died as a result of its side-effects, you’d be in serious trouble!”

“That’s ridiculous!” de Áth spluttered. “I have no idea how that drug got into Armando’s system!”

“Then why did you hide the report?!” Apollo shouted.

“Hold it!”

The gallery erupted in murmurs as the judge, prosecutor and attorney looked around in surprise at the interruption. Apollo spotted movement in the gallery behind Edgeworth. A woman was hurrying down through the seats to the front row, right above the prosecutor’s bench. A moment later he recognised her as Nurse Iris.

Iris reached the gallery railing, and for a second Apollo thought she was going to tumble over it, propelled by her own momentum. Edgeworth and the judge had noticed her now, too. She stopped at the railing, slamming her hands down on it.

“Doctor de Áth didn’t give Mr. Armando those drugs – I did!”

Judge, prosecutor, attorney and witness exclaimed, in unison, “WHAAAAAAT?!”

De Áth was the first to regain his composure. “You?!” His face flushed an angry red. “You…four-legged little –”

The judge banged his gavel. “Witness, control yourself!” He turned his attention to Iris. “Young lady, I think you’d better explain.”

“O-of course.” Iris looked back up at the stairs leading to the door at the very top of the gallery, and then at the railing in front of her. “Could…could someone help me down, please?”

Edgeworth stepped away from the bench, and as Iris clambered over the railing, he put his hands around her waist and lifted her down.

“Witness, you are excused,” the judge told the still-fuming doctor, “…for now. Bailiffs, escort the witness to the Prosecution Lobby. Something tells me we’ll need him to testify again today.”

Dr. de Áth didn’t protest as he was led out of the courtroom, but the look he directed at Iris gave Apollo chills. Iris herself looked away, and seemed to pale slightly, but she strode to the witness stand and took her place without any hesitation.

Edgeworth, on the other hand, was hesitating, and Apollo realised why – this witness had come completely out of the blue. They were now in uncharted waters, and Iris’ testimony might make or break the prosecution’s case.

Edgeworth cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses, and finally addressed the witness. “Please state your name and occupation.”

Iris inclined her head slightly. “My name is Iris Hawthorne. I work as a nurse at the State Penitentiary.”

“…Nurse Hawthorne.” Edgeworth seemed to hesitate over the name – almost as if he wanted to call her something else. “You claim you were the one to administer the mood stabiliser Dopraxitine to the victim.”

Iris nodded. “Yes, I did.”

Edgeworth took a deep breath and let it out, then jabbed a finger in Iris’ direction. “Did Dr. de Áth know you had done this?”

Iris looked away, clenching her fist in front of her chest.

“No,” she answered. “I didn’t tell him. I didn’t tell anyone.”

Edgeworth took his glasses off and began to clean them again. Apollo watched as he scrubbed at the lenses with his handkerchief, mouth moving slightly as if he was talking silently to himself. The silence dragged until…

“…Perhaps I should start at the beginning?” Iris suggested.

Edgeworth looked up as if startled. “Ah…! Yes.” He put his glasses back on. “Tell the court, in your own words, how these circumstances came about.”

Iris nodded.

“I first started working at the State Penitentiary in January of this year,” she began. “But I didn’t meet Mr. Armando until the middle of March…”

Chapter Text

March 12

Hospital Wing Ward 1

1:26 PM

Iris turned to look over her shoulder as the voices in the corridor got closer. She recognised Officer Marshall’s drawling accent just before the cowboy prison guard opened the door.

“Yeah, yeah, and if my aunt had balls she’d be my uncle. Get in there.” He pushed a familiar figure into the room.

Iris clutched her chart close to her chest as she looked at the guard and his prisoner. Mr. Godot seemed smaller than when she’d seen him last, hunching next to Officer Marshall as though he couldn’t stand up straight. He was cradling his right arm, pressing a towel against the length of his forearm. Iris could see where the blood was seeping through the rough material. Blood was smeared on his visor, and there was more staining his striped prison uniform…although Iris guessed that that blood didn’t belong to him. He looked up suddenly, and seemed to go pale when he saw her.

“Howdy, ma’am.” Officer Marshall tipped the brim of his hat to her. “Doc around?”

Iris tore her gaze away from Mr. Godot and shook her head. “He’s on his lunch break, but I can help. What happened?”

“This here troublemaker picked on someone who had a shank,” Officer Marshall replied. “His fellow outlaw’s being treated next door for a broken nose. Once they’re patched up, they’ll have plenty of time to resolve their differences while they’re in matching cells in solitary.”

Iris nodded, and led them towards an empty bed in the corner of the ward, away from the few other patients. “Bring him over here.”

She winced as Officer Marshall gave Mr. Godot a slight shove to get him moving. “You heard the lady.”

“Are you always so rough with the boys?” Mr. Godot asked with a smirk.

“Save the sweet-talk for someone who cares, Armando,” Officer Marshall replied, keeping a tight grip on his shoulder as they walked to the bed. Iris fought down an urge to remonstrate with the prison guard for manhandling the patient. Officer Marshall looked at these men differently than she did, after all. He worked with violent offenders every day; he had to keep his distance and show them he couldn’t be messed with. The guards in the women’s prison had been exactly the same – even the ‘nice’ ones were never warm or friendly. They couldn’t afford to be.

And Officer Marshall was one of the good ones, never excessive or brutal. Mr. Godot had trouble getting onto the bed, so the cowboy guard gently helped him up, making sure not to jar his injured arm.

“Thank you, officer,” Iris said. She fetched a medical kit and began to draw the curtains around the bed.

“Careful there, little lady.” Officer Marshall laid a hand on her arm. “This bull’s been known to gore.”

She gazed at the figure slumping on the bed, all the fight gone from him now, his right arm shaking uncontrollably and sending droplets of blood to splatter on the floor below.

“It’s all right,” she said, and she didn’t know why, but she was totally, utterly sure of what she said next. “He won’t hurt me.”

Officer Marshall didn’t look happy, but he tipped his hat to her and stepped back.

“I’ll be waiting outside the curtain,” he told her. “I gotta take this varmint to the hole once you’re done with him.

Iris nodded, and bowed slightly. “Of course. This won’t take long.”

She finished drawing the curtains, and turned her attention to the man on the bed.

“Okay, Mr. Armando,” she murmured as she sat next to him and gently took his injured arm. “Let me see…”

He let her take the towel away, revealing a long gash down the outside of his forearm. Iris could see that it wasn’t deep enough to need stitches. The edges were ragged – if the weapon really was a shank, it wasn’t a very high-quality one. The blood was already starting to clot in places, and the wound would heal nicely once it was properly cleaned, dressed and bandaged.

She began by disinfecting the cut. He flinched at the first touch, sucking a breath in through his teeth.

“Sorry, I know it stings a little,” Iris offered with a brief smile. She bent her head and continued with her task, not wanting to make eye contact for any longer than was necessary. Seeing him brought memories of that case to the forefront of her mind, and she knew he would bring it up eventually. Iris wanted to delay the inevitable for as long as possible.

She finished, discarding the stained cotton balls, and began to dress the wound, tying the bandage so the edges of the cut were pressed together.

“ ‘Nurse Hawthorne’.” Iris glanced at Mr. Godot as he spoke. He smirked briefly. “Took the old man’s name, huh?”

“It’s the one on my birth certificate,” she told him simply. He didn’t reply, and she found herself adding, “I thought about changing it, but…I don’t feel I can call myself a Fey.”

Silence. Iris finished the bandage, blinking back the tears that suddenly pricked at her eyes. She turned away to get his chart, to check what other medications he was taking – he would need an antibiotic, she doubted that he’d been slashed with something sterile –

“I’m so sorry I got you into this.”

Iris looked up at him. Mr. Godot wasn’t looking at her now, staring at the bed between them instead.

“In these concrete zoos, men become savage beasts,” he continued. One of his legs was shaking. “And I put you in there.” He looked away. “I’m so sorry.”

It would be childishly easy to snap ‘So you should be’, to blame everything on him and pretend she’d had no choice, but that was Dahlia’s way – not hers.

“I was a grown woman,” Iris reminded him. “I could have told you ‘no’.”

He smirked at her. “Could you really?”

Iris didn’t reply. When he’d first introduced himself to her, when she’d seen the damage Dahlia had done – a crime she’d helped to conceal by dating Feenie to get the evidence back – she’d felt like she had to do whatever he asked of her to make amends. Master Misty’s presence and approval of the plan had only added to the pressure. All three of them were looking for a way to ease their own guilt that dreadful night on the mountain. All three of them were to blame.

Iris shook it off. The past was past, there was no use in looking back.

“I’ll be right back,” she promised, standing. “I need to give you a shot –”

He gave a short, bitter laugh. “You’re going to dope me too?”

Something about the way he said it made Iris think it wasn’t just a smart remark. She sat back onto the bed. “What do you mean?”

He stared at her for a few seconds, a surprised look on his face.

“Every time I get into trouble, Doctor Death gives me a tranquilliser,” he said flatly. “I take a brief sojourn in La-La Land, but nothing changes.”

Iris frowned. “…Nothing changes?”

Mr. Godot swallowed.

“I’m sick, kitten,” he said. “Something’s wrong with me…” He tapped his fingers on the top of his head. “…up here.” He shook his head. “When someone makes me angry, I – I can’t control myself.”

Iris glanced towards the curtain, and Officer Marshall’s silhouette. The cowboy guard had mentioned something like that. She felt a brief flash of fear.

“Shrink couldn’t help me,” Mr. Godot continued. “The doc’s supposed to help me. All he does is make me easier to handle.”

He reached up with shaking hands and took his visor off, and heaved a deep sigh.

“Here, let me…” Iris gently pried the bloodstained visor out of his hands. “I’ll clean it.”

“Thanks.”

Iris began to dab at the stains with some alcohol and a cotton ball. She didn’t want to believe that Dr. de Áth would be so negligent as to not treat a patient adequately…and yet there were times when he seemed so jaded and fed up and angry even, that his career had taken him here…

“Do you know what’s wrong with you?” she asked gently.

“…I’m brain-damaged,” Mr. Godot replied. “They took me to County and ran an MRI.” He ran a hand through his hair. “The bad wiring in here means I can’t control my behaviour. They said it can cause personality changes, too.” He smirked. “Makes sense. I haven’t felt like myself since the coma.” A bitter laugh. “I guess Diego Armando really is dead…”

His voice broke on the last word and he looked up and away, trying not to show weakness. Iris set the clean visor aside, removed her gloves, and fished in her pocket.

“Here.” She pressed a handkerchief into his hand. Mr. Godot looked at her sharply, rubbing the material between his finger and thumb. He felt for her arm and leaned in close.

“Kitten, you’re not supposed to do that,” he whispered. “You’ll get in trouble.”

“Not if you give it back when we finish here,” she whispered back.

Mr. Godot nodded. He turned away to where he thought she couldn’t see, and quickly wiped his eyes.

“Someday, when the guards aren’t around to break it up,” he continued, “I’m going to kill someone.” The flatness and certainty in his voice scared her a little. He shook his head. “I don’t want that to happen.” He snorted. “Even if there are some in here who deserve it. But there’s nothing I can do.” He looked in her direction, gazing just past her with a fixed stare. “I asked for help…and no-one will help me.”

“I’ll be back with your antibiotic shot,” Iris told him, suddenly needing distance from the situation. She patted his knee and rose.

Officer Marshall tipped his hat to her as she exited the curtains. “Y’all about finished?” he asked. “Only we gotta be moseying along soon.”

“I’ll be a little longer,” Iris replied. “Please be patient.”

Officer Marshall gave a short, impatient sigh, but didn’t argue with her. As Iris walked away, she saw him take a silver flask from under his poncho and drink from it. Iris hoped for his sake that it was where he kept his tomato juice.

She got Mr. Godot’s prescription records from the nurses’ station, and made a note of the medications he was already taking. None of them would do anything to curb the behaviour he had described to her. Morbid curiosity made her flip back through the records. The tranquilliser Somnidryl showed up over and over again, at ever-decreasing intervals. Iris felt sick.

She looked up from the records, her gaze falling on the dispensary. Iris licked her lips nervously. She had the knowledge. She had access. She could…

Iris looked down at the records again. There were side effects. There were consequences if she was found out. But what was her job next to someone’s life, and she absolutely believed Mr. Godot when he said, with certainty, that he would kill again if he wasn’t stopped.

Her heart was pounding as she returned to the bed with the shot and some medication, Officer Marshall nodding to her as she passed through the curtains.

Mr. Godot didn’t complain as she prepared his arm for the injection.

“I’m giving you some antibiotics,” she explained, “and I’ll make sure you get a check-up after a few days to make sure you haven’t developed an infection.”

“Thanks,” he answered. Iris administered the antibiotic, put a plaster on the site of the injection, and gave Mr. Godot his visor back.

“I’m also prescribing you,” Iris glanced around and lowered her voice, “a mood stabiliser.” She handed him a plastic cup with two blue and yellow pills in it. “These will even you out and they won’t make you drowsy.” He stared at the pills, then looked up at her. Iris put a hand on his knee. “They’ll give you more control.”

“Kitten…”

“From now on, when you get your meds you get them from me,” Iris continued. “And if you experience any strange symptoms, you have to let me know.”

Mr. Godot stared at her for a long time.

“You’re really going out on a limb here, kitten,” he murmured. “You sure you’ll be able to find your way back down?”

“No,” Iris replied honestly. “Now swallow those, quickly. Dr. de Áth will be back soon.”

He did as he was told, grimacing a little at the taste. Iris stood up, telling herself she was doing the right thing.

Mr. Godot began to rise, then paused and looked at the handkerchief still clenched in his fist.

“…I’ll wash this for you,” he said at last.

Iris covered his hand with hers.

“Just don’t let them find it.”

He nodded, and stuffed the handkerchief into his sneaker before sliding down off the bed.

As Iris handed him off to Officer Marshall, Mr. Godot gazed back at her, a faint, grateful smile on his face.

Chapter Text

Edgeworth removed his glasses, and folded the handles down with a click.

“You should have come forward with this information sooner,” he said sternly.

Iris looked away, clenching her fist in front of her chest.

“I know,” she replied. “But…it didn’t seem to matter once Mr. Armando was dead, and…” She looked up at him. “…I knew coming forward would cost me my job.”

“Well, I suggest you start perusing the want ads once we finish here,” Edgeworth answered snappishly, “preferably for a job outside the medical profession.” Iris wilted, and there was some movement in the gallery behind the defence bench. Apollo glanced behind him just in time to see Phoenix pulling Maya back into her seat.

Edgeworth put his glasses back on and leaned forward, palm flat on the bench in front of him.

“Is there anything else you wish to tell the court?” he asked with a scowl.

“Yes,” Iris replied. She looked at Edgeworth. “I’m sorry I kept this from you.”

Edgeworth adjusted his glasses, apparently derailed by the quiet apology. “…Ahem.” He looked at Apollo. “Your witness, Mr. Justice.”

Apollo started slightly. He’d been so engrossed in Iris’ story he’d completely forgotten about the cross-examination. “R-right!” He straightened up and faced the witness stand. (I have no idea what I’m looking for, but if there’s a contradiction somewhere, I have to find it!)

“I started working at the State Penitentiary in January,” Iris began, “but I didn’t meet Mr. Armando until the twelfth of March.”

“Hold it!” Apollo shouted. The court waited expectantly. Apollo felt himself going red. “Er…so, you didn’t know he was being held at the State Penitentiary?”

Iris looked at him with a puzzled frown.

“No, I knew,” she replied. “I suppose…I just didn’t think about it.”

“Er…okay then!” Apollo said. “Carry on!”

Trucy shook her head. “Polly, you have to think before you press the witness!” she whispered.

Apollo gritted his teeth. (Who’s the attorney here, anyway?!) “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

“Officer Marshall brought him to the hospital wing,” Iris continued. “He’d gotten into a fight with another inmate and had a bad gash along his right arm.”

“Hold it!” Apollo interrupted. “Do you know who hurt him?”

Iris shook her head. “No,” she answered. “But Officer Marshall told me that the man who did it suffered a broken nose in the fight.”

“Then maybe that man is the real killer!” Apollo suggested, pointing at her. “After all, he had a score to settle!”

“Objection!” Edgeworth countered. “We have already established that another prisoner could not have entered the cell at the time of the murder.” He wagged a finger at the defence attorney. “Do try to keep up, Justice.”

Apollo slumped on the bench, sweat beading on his forehead. (He kinda has a point there…)

“Witness, continue with your testimony,” Edgeworth instructed.

“I made Officer Marshall wait outside the curtain while I treated Mr. Armando,” Iris went on. “He wasn’t too happy about it – he was afraid I would get hurt.”

“Hold it!” Apollo exclaimed. “Why was Officer Marshall afraid you’d get hurt?”

“It’s like you said before,” Iris explained. “Mr. Armando…” She hesitated, stealing a glance at the gallery. “…Mr. Armando was having trouble controlling his anger. Officer Marshall was afraid he would hurt me.”

Apollo narrowed his eyes slightly as he looked at her. “But you weren’t afraid.”

“I knew him,” Iris replied with a shrug. “That’s all I can say.”

Apollo gazed at her for a few seconds longer. It was a vague answer, but he couldn’t detect any sign that Iris was lying, even unconsciously.

When no further questions were forthcoming, Iris continued with her testimony.

“We talked while I treated him,” she said. “That’s when he mentioned the tranquilliser…and the brain damage.” Iris looked away. “Mr. Armando started to get upset, so I gave him my handkerchief…in case he needed it.”

“Hold it!” Apollo interrupted. “Could you talk about what he told you in more detail?”

“Of course,” Iris replied with a nod. “He told me about receiving tranquillisers every time he got into trouble, and he talked about the MRI he’d had.” Her expression hardened. “He knew what was wrong with him. He knew he wasn’t getting the proper treatment.” She shook her head angrily. “I didn’t want to believe it was happening. We’re supposed to help people – even if they’re serving life sentences for murder.”

“So you decided to help him?” Apollo replied.

Iris drew herself up and stared back at him. “Yes.”

Apollo nodded. “Tell us what you did.”

“I went to get an antibiotic shot from the dispensary,” Iris continued. “While I was there I measured out a dose of Dopraxitine, a mood stabiliser. I gave it to Mr. Armando and told him he would be getting it from now on.”

“Hold it!” Apollo said. “Did anyone else know you gave Armando this drug?”

“No,” Iris replied. “I didn’t tell Dr. de Áth or any of the other medical staff.”

“Why didn’t you tell your boss?” Apollo asked.

Iris looked down at the witness stand, her hands clasped in front of her, down below her waist.

“I know this isn’t a nice thing to say,” she answered, “but Dr. de Áth didn’t seem very interested in helping Mr. Armando to get better. I thought if I told him, he would take Mr. Armando off the drug. And I didn’t tell anyone else because…” She looked up at him. “…well, it was my secret. If Dr. de Áth did find out, I would be the only one who would get in trouble.”

Apollo gazed at Iris for a few moments while he decided what to ask next. His case today rested on the possibility that Armando had suffered a side effect from the mood stabiliser, and that was what had caused him to fall and crack his head on the toilet bowl the night of the fire. He picked up the sheet of paper listing the side effects of Dopraxitine, and prepared to address the nurse again.

“Nurse Hawthorne,” he said, “when you testified for the first time you said that you were the one who gave Mr. Armando the Dopraxitine every day.” He looked at her. “Did you monitor him for any side effects? Dizziness, for instance? Or fainting?”

Iris’ face took on a troubled expression.

“I couldn’t monitor him fully,” she replied. “But every time I gave him the drug I reminded him that he had to tell me if he suffered any side effects. He never did.”

“He never suffered any side effects?” Apollo repeated. “Or he never told you he did?”

Iris looked away, clenching her fist in front of her.

“It’s possible he was hiding them from me,” she admitted. “Maybe he thought I would take him off the drug if he said anything.” She looked up at Apollo. “He was so much better on the mood stabiliser. He stopped getting into fights, he was more relaxed, he was happier…”

“Objection!” Edgeworth interrupted. “Your Honour, this is straying dangerously close to hearsay.”

“Objection!” Apollo shot back. “The witness had regular daily contact with the victim up until the night of his death. That’s hardly hearsay!”

“Objection!” Edgeworth replied. “On the contrary, it’s the very definition of hearsay – from a biased witness, to boot!”

The judge banged his gavel.

“Overruled, Mr Edgeworth,” he declared. As the prosecutor recoiled, the judge addressed Apollo. “Mr. Justice, you may continue with your cross-examination, but I advise you to watch your step.”

Apollo nodded. “Of course, Your Honour.”

“Now then,” the judge said, “continue with your testimony, young lady.”

“I know Mr. Armando didn’t start a fight the night of the fire,” Iris insisted. “He hadn’t had a violent outburst for over two months. He…he was getting better.”

“Hold it! How can you be sure?” Apollo asked.

Iris gave a short sigh.

“…I suppose I can’t,” she admitted. “It’s just something I know…” She pressed a hand over her heart. “…in here.”

Apollo gave a sigh of his own. He knew what she meant, but unfortunately feelings weren’t evidence.

“Well, at least now we know where the mystery drug came from,” Trucy murmured beside him. She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Do you really think the victim died because he got dizzy and fell?”

“I don’t know,” Apollo admitted. He went back over Iris’ testimony, searching for any obvious contradictions, but there weren’t any. Her story backed up the possibility that Armando’s death had been an accident (and – Apollo winced – left her open to criminal charges), but there was no real evidence to prove it one way or the other.

And yet, something bothered him about her story…

It came to him in a flash.

“Witness,” he asked, “could you repeat your statement about giving Mr. Armando the mood stabiliser?”

Iris nodded. “I measured out a dose of Dopraxitine, a mood stabiliser. I gave it to Mr. Armando and told him he would be getting it from now on. I didn’t tell Dr de Áth or any of the other medical staff.”

Apollo tapped his forehead. “So nobody else knew you were giving Mr. Armando this drug on the sly?”

Iris shook her head. “No,” she replied emphatically. “I didn’t tell anyone.”

“What about Armando?” Apollo pressed. “Could he have said anything?”

“He didn’t.”

Apollo gazed at her. “You sound very sure of yourself, Nurse Hawthorne.”

“If he had,” Iris answered firmly, “I would know it because other prisoners would have come to me, looking for drugs.” She shook her head. “That never happened.”

Apollo frowned, his sense of unease growing as he pressed further. “And you’re sure nobody on the staff found out? Nobody higher up?”

Iris shook her head, an odd smile flashing briefly on her face. “If they had, I would have been fired,” she replied. “Or at least disciplined.”

(And Dr. de Áth probably wouldn’t have hidden the toxicology report,) Apollo thought. (Not when he had an explanation, *and* a scapegoat.)

“So no-one else knew Mr. Armando was finally getting the help he needed,” Trucy remarked.

“Seems that way,” Apollo answered. “De Áth was in the dark. So was Kovacs – she didn’t deal with Armando after she signed him over for medical treatment. And that means the warden didn’t know, either.” He looked up and addressed Iris again. “Witness, can you confirm once again that as far as anyone else was concerned, the only treatment Armando was receiving for his violent behaviour was a tranquilliser, administered whenever he had an outburst?”

“Yes,” Iris answered.

Apollo thudded his fists lightly on the bench. The tranquilliser hadn’t done anything to improve Armando’s behaviour – his disciplinary records were proof of that. Kovacs hadn’t done any further evaluation of his mental state. Which meant as far as everyone else was concerned, Armando wasn’t receiving proper treatment, and still posed a threat to the other prisoners.

(So why would Gavin have been assigned as Armando’s cellmate…?

…Unless…)

Apollo looked up, the motive at the heart of the case dawning on him like a flash of light. His gaze locked with Prosecutor Edgeworth’s, and he realised the older man had had the same epiphany.

“…No further questions, Your Honour.”

Chapter Text

If the judge had come to the same conclusion as the two lawyers, he didn’t show it.

“Very well,” he said. “The witness is excused.” Iris stepped down from the stand, a look of relief settling on her face. “Bailiff! Bring Dr. de Áth back in.”

Apollo focussed on his breathing as the bailiffs escorted the doctor back to the witness stand. If his hunch was right, then Kristoph was just as much a victim in all this as Armando. And the wider implications frightened him.

He noticed Edgeworth talking quietly to Iris, who was hovering uncertainly by the prosecution bench. Apollo wondered if Edgeworth thought she would bolt if left alone in the Prosecution Lobby. Or maybe he just didn’t want to put her at risk of another ugly confrontation with de Áth once the doctor was excused as a witness.

The crack of the judge’s gavel derailed his train of thought and brought Apollo’s attention back to the trial.

“Doctor,” the judge declared gravely, “having heard the testimony of Nurse Hawthorne, the court accepts that you were unaware that Mr. Armando was being treated with a mood stabiliser.” Dr. de Áth visibly relaxed, his eyes closing briefly in relief. “However,” the judge continued, giving him a stern look, “please explain why you did not mention the presence of this drug in the victim’s system to the police, the prosecution or the defence.”

“Because I – I didn’t know where it came from,” the doctor replied, looking cornered again. “I was trying to find out –”

Edgeworth slammed his hand down on the bench, cutting him off.

“That was a job for the police,” he snapped. “If you had disclosed this information in the beginning, they could easily have gotten the truth from Nurse Hawthorne.” He jabbed a finger at de Áth. “Why did you really cover it up?”

“It woulda–” De Áth broke off suddenly and attempted to compose itself. “It would have complicated matters.” He lowered his voice, which took on a wheedling tone. “Look, everything pointed to Gavin – the way the bodies were found, the defensive injuries on Armando’s arms, the fatal wound…” He cast a contemptuous glance at Apollo. “Armando was a big guy, but he couldn’t have hit his head that hard just from falling over.” He turned his attention back to Edgeworth. “So…I massaged things a little. Just to make sure we got the right verdict. You know what that’s like, right?”

The murderous look that appeared on Edgeworth’s face made Apollo hope he never got on the prosecutor’s bad side.

“Be very careful what you accuse me of, doctor,” he answered, voice dripping with venom.

De Áth seemed taken aback. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again.

“Does the defence have any questions for this witness?” the judge asked.

Apollo shook his head – the doctor had incriminated himself plenty, and he didn’t detect any deception in his testimony.

“No, Your Honour.”

“Then the witness is excused,” the judge said. He gave de Áth a stern look, adding, “And I suggest, doctor, that you consider your position very carefully. The Penitentiary’s autopsy records will be examined quite thoroughly in the weeks ahead.”

De Áth swallowed hard and stepped down from the witness stand.

The judge harrumphed and banged his gavel.

“I am very, very disturbed by what we have heard here today,” he announced. “Regardless of their crimes, the inmates of our prison system are still entitled to proper medical treatment and adequate care. Yet it seems the victim was failed by that system. It also seems that there is a possibility that this murder should have been ruled a death by misadventure.” He looked out over the courtroom. “I cannot ask the jurists to vote on a verdict at this time. Therefore, this court is adjou-”

“Hold it!”

The courtroom doors flew open and Ema Skye burst in, lab coat fluttering as she made for the witness stand, holding a folder above her head like an Olympic torch. The gallery erupted in murmurings and the judge banged his gavel to try to impose some order.

“Detective Skye!” the judge exclaimed. “What is the meaning of this interruption?!”

“Your Honour,” Ema panted, leaning on the witness stand, “we have the final results of the investigation into the fire…” She broke off, gulping down a breath of air. “…the fire that took place…on the night of the murder…” Ema waved the folder weakly.

“Detective,” Edgeworth said, jabbing a finger at her, “I thought the forensic team already determined that the fire was due to an electrical fault?”

Ema was still trying to catch her breath. “Yes,” she managed. “That was…the preliminary finding…”

“Take your time,” Edgeworth told her.

Ema nodded and attempted to compose herself, mumbling something about laying off the Snackoos. She ran a hand through her hair and stood up properly.

“As I was saying,” the detective continued, “the preliminary investigation found that the fire was caused by an electrical fault, and our reconstruction found the same thing–”

“Reconstruction?” the judge asked, blinking in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“To determine whether the fire really was caused by an electrical fault,” Ema explained, “the forensic team made a replica of the areas of the prison where the fire started and where it spread. Then we started a fire under the same conditions we believe the original fire started, let it burn for as long as the real fire, and then put it out.” She adjusted her goggles. “By comparing the damage done by our fire with the damage left behind by the original fire, we can tell if our theory is correct. We can also tell how the fire spread, how fast it spread, and why.”

“You…built a life-size model and set it on fire?” the judge asked. His eyes widened, and an unsettling expression appeared on his face. “How exciting!”

“Yes, it was,” Ema replied wistfully, gazing off into the distance. She shook herself and leaned forward on the witness stand. “But that’s not why I’m here!” The detective slid three copies of the forensics report out of the folder and handed them to the bailiff, who distributed them to the judge, Apollo and Edgeworth.

“Our model matched the original laundry room, staircase and upper floor perfectly,” Ema explained as they began to leaf through the reports. The first few pages showed photographs comparing the fire-damaged areas of the prison with the replica, before and after the test. “We included the wiring to the automatic release button for the cells and the camera near Armando and Gavin’s cell. Both of them burned out as the fire progressed.”

“Get to the point, Detective,” Edgeworth said curtly. “This isn’t a story.”

Apollo saw Ema’s fingers twitch, and wondered how Edgeworth would react to being Snackoo’d.

“The wiring for the release button burned out about forty minutes after the fire started,” Ema explained. “But the wiring for the camera didn’t burn out until sixty-two minutes after the fire started.”

“Which means…?” Edgeworth pressed.

“The fire was described as ‘out of control’ by prison guard Jake Marshall at ten past midnight,” Ema explained. “Using his eyewitness account and other forensic evidence, we know it started at approximately eleven fifteen.”

“Then…!” Apollo interrupted, suddenly realising what Ema was saying. “Then…that means the camera was still operational at twelve seventeen!”

“Exactly!” Ema replied, pounding a fist on the witness stand. “It was still rolling until three minutes before the murder!”

“Wait a minute!” the judge declared. “If that’s the case, why hasn’t the surveillance tape from this camera been presented yet?” He directed a sharp look at Edgeworth. “I’d have shown that on the first day!”

Edgeworth was hunched forward on the bench. “Nnngh…”

“That’s just it, Your Honour,” Ema explained. “We have the tape. Or at least, we have what someone wanted us to think was the tape.” She drew a videocassette from the folder and passed it up to the judge. “This tape has the right date and time, and it was found in the surveillance room, right where it was supposed to be…but there’s nothing on it.”

The gallery erupted into loud murmurings again.

“The old switcheroo, huh?” Trucy said fiercely, fists clenched in determination. “What a cheap, dirty parlour trick!”

(It’s a little more serious than that, don’t you think?!) Apollo thought incredulously. “We have to find that tape!”

“Your Honour!” Edgeworth said, raising his voice to be heard above the crowd. “The real tape must be located immediately! It may contain crucial evidence!”

The judge banged his gavel several times, and slowly everyone quietened down.

“Detective Skye, you and your officers will find the missing tape,” he declared. “The prosecution and the defence will continue their investigations into this incident.” He closed his eyes briefly. “It is becoming clear that someone, or some people, have been interfering with this case from the outset. Regardless of whether Kristoph Gavin is found guilty, it is imperative that those who seek to pervert the course of justice be punished.” He banged his gavel. “Court is adjourned until ten a.m. tomorrow!”

May 20

Defendant Lobby No. 3

12.40 PM

“Wow, Apollo!” Maya exclaimed as Apollo and Trucy entered the lobby. “You were amazing out there!”

“Thanks,” Apollo replied distractedly. He turned away from her – it was rude, he knew, but his mind was racing and he couldn’t make small talk right now. Kristoph had been deliberately placed with a man who, as far as anybody knew, was a violent, unstable lunatic. Placed there in the hope that said lunatic would snap and kill him one night, heedless of the consequences because his brain was too fried to think it through. Apollo wondered if Armando knew he was being used. He thought back to Kristoph’s laundry list of petty annoyances he suffered at Armando’s hands, and the intense reaction from his bracelet when Kristoph insisted he wasn’t scared of his cellmate. Mood stabiliser or not, Apollo had a feeling Armando hadn’t stopped at hogging the bunk and making crude remarks.

“Hey, where’s Daddy?” Trucy was asking.

“I dunno,” Maya answered. “He snuck out a few minutes before court was adjourned. Maybe he went to the men’s room.”

“Justice.”

Apollo looked up as Edgeworth entered the defendant lobby, Iris following behind. A moment later Klavier joined them.

The room fell silent, even Maya putting a sock in it.

“We both know only two people could have switched the tapes,” Edgeworth declared. “And only one of those had any reason to hide the original.”

Apollo nodded.

“Given the circumstances, I want to move your client to the Detention Centre immediately,” Edgeworth continued. He glanced at Klavier and back at Apollo. “His life may well be in danger.”

“The tape –”

“Detective Skye and the police can take care of it,” Edgeworth insisted. “For now, you and Sister Iris come with me.” Apollo lifted an eyebrow at ‘Sister Iris’, but let it go.

“And me!” Trucy insisted. “Where Polly goes, I go!”

Edgeworth snorted impatiently. “Very well.”

“I want to come with you,” Klavier said, speaking up for the first time since entering the room. A guilty look appeared on his face. “I…I didn’t believe him…and now –”

Edgeworth softened a little and laid a hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

“I understand,” he said. “But I need you to prepare the transfer order and fax it to the State Penitentiary.” He looked Klavier in the eye. “There isn’t a moment to lose.”

“What about us?” Maya piped up.

Edgeworth looked at Maya and Pearl.

“You and Wright will have to sit tight until we get back,” he replied. He broke off and looked around. “…Where is Wright, anyway?”

Maya blew out her cheeks in irritation. “Aw! Can’t we do anything?”

“Not this time,” Edgeworth replied gently. He turned to the others. “Come along, all of you! We’ve dawdled long enough!”

Maya sighed as they disappeared out of the defendant lobby. Watching Apollo and Trucy in action reminded her of the good times she’d had, helping Nick solve cases. She wished there was something she could do to help out with this one.

She looked over at Pearl. The younger girl was looking at the floor, playing nervously with her hands. Maya smiled and pulled her into a half-hug.

“Don’t worry, Pearly,” she said cheerfully. “The case is in good hands.”

Pearl looked up and managed to smile back. “I know, Mystic Maya.”

Maya’s smile dimmed a little as Pearl went back to looking at her sandals. Something seemed off about her young cousin, but before she could decide what it was, the door of the lobby opened.

“Hey, Nick!” Maya called out as Phoenix entered the room. “Everyone else went off investigating and left us behind.” She took his arm. “So I guess that means it’s back to your place for burgers and a Pink Princess marathon!”

“I guess,” Phoenix agreed, putting his other arm around Pearl and escorting both women out of the defendant lobby.

“Say, where were you, anyway?” Maya asked.

Phoenix smiled.

“Calling in an old favour.”

Chapter Text

May 20

State Penitentiary Visitors’ Parking Lot

1.45 PM

Apollo wished he’d been able to relax and enjoy the ride to the prison. Mr. Edgeworth’s silver convertible was the fanciest car he’d ever been in, and he envied Trucy as she ooh’d and aah’d from the back seat, childishly begging Edgeworth to put the top down. The prosecutor simply smiled and said that perhaps it could be arranged on the way back.

It was about the only thing Edgeworth had said during the entire trip.

They pulled into the visitors’ parking lot, overshadowed by the prison on one side and the forbidding perimeter wall on the other. Edgeworth shut off the car’s engine and a heavy silence descended on them.

Apollo waited while Edgeworth slipped off his driving shades and put his usual glasses back on.

“Justice, I think the best course of action would be for you and Sister Iris to go straight to the hospital wing,” Edgeworth remarked. “Prepare the ground with Gavin, as it were, while I sort out the official side of things.” He looked at the young attorney. “Unless you think he’s likely to be violent.”

Apollo considered it, and slowly shook his head.

“I don’t think he’ll try anything,” he answered. “Attacking us would only make things worse for him.”

Edgeworth nodded. “Very well.” He turned in his seat and looked back at Trucy. “Miss Wright, I must insist you come with me.”

Trucy pouted, and Apollo noted to his amusement that it had absolutely no effect on the prosecutor.

“You and Sister Iris should ride with Gavin to the Detention Centre,” Edgeworth said, turning back to Apollo. “It’s a long trip. You might as well use the time to talk to your client.”

The real reason for not leaving Kristoph alone with the prison guards hung, unsaid, in the air between them.

Apollo opened his door. “Let’s go.”

May 20

Hospital Wing Ward 3

1.55 PM

By the time they entered the ward, Apollo was sweating – and not just because Iris had set the pace at a swift jog. A swarm of police cars had appeared as they crossed the parking lot to the prison. The warden would soon be onto them. They might have only a few minutes to convince Kristoph to cooperate with the move to the Detention Centre.

Kristoph stared at them both in surprise as they approached him. Iris snatched up his chart and examined it while Apollo crouched by the bed.

“What’s happened?” Kristoph asked warily, gaze darting between Iris and Apollo. “Have I been found guilty?”

“No,” Apollo replied, wincing as he nearly added not yet. “A couple of…interesting things came up in court today, though.” Kristoph opened his mouth and Apollo continued quickly, “We need to move you to the Detention Centre. You’re gonna have to testify in court tomorrow.”

Apollo hadn’t thought it was possible for Kristoph to go even paler than his usual colour, but the former defence lawyer suddenly looked white as a ghost.

“No,” Kristoph insisted, a note approaching panic in his voice. “I – I can’t be moved. I’m too sick –”

“How is he?” Apollo asked, looking at Iris.

“Well enough to travel,” Iris replied.

“That’s what I thought,” Apollo answered grimly.

“I’ll fetch his clothes,” Iris said, striding away towards the back of the ward.

“I can’t!” Kristoph insisted as Apollo tugged at his blankets. He leaned forward and began to retch.

“Stop it!”

The Whisper of Steel had the desired effect – Kristoph stopped mid-heave and looked at him in shock. Apollo knelt by the bed, elbows on the mattress, clenching the blanket between his fingers.

“With your connections you could’ve gotten any attorney in the tri-county area to represent you,” he hissed. “Instead you chose me – the guy who put you in here – because you know I won’t stop till I uncover the truth, no matter how I feel about you or what you did.” Apollo leaned forward. “Now you have to trust me. You have to trust that I’m acting in your best interests as my client.” He moved back a little, relaxing his posture. “…Otherwise, I can't help you.”

The next few seconds seemed to stretch to eternity. Kristoph held Apollo’s gaze with a perfect poker face, considering the attorney’s words. Apollo was about to try to persuade him again when Kristoph looked away and gave a sigh of resignation.

“…You’re right, of course, Mr. Justice,” he said. “You wouldn’t have brought me this far only to throw me to the wolves now. You lack that kind of vindictiveness.” Kristoph shot him a crocodile smile just as Iris returned with his prison uniform. “Very well. Best make sure I’m decent when my escorts arrive.”

Iris threw the blankets back and Apollo averted his gaze, not keen on seeing his former boss in a skimpy hospital gown. Unfortunately Kristoph wasted no time exploiting his discomfort.

“Justice, could you untie me?” he asked, a coy smile on his face as he gestured to the back of the gown. “I’m rather handicapped at the moment,” he waved his bad hand, “as you can see.”

Apollo grimaced a little, trying not to look at Iris helping Kristoph with his trousers, and hurriedly unlaced Kristoph’s gown. It parted as he unfastened each of the ties, exposing Kristoph’s pale back.

“Done,” Apollo said, stepping back. Kristoph awkwardly slid the gown off, shifting on the bed as he hitched up his pants. Apollo frowned as Kristoph dropped the discarded gown on the floor beside the bed. A thick stripe of yellow and purple bruising ran all the way across Kristoph’s chest.

“How did that happen?” Apollo asked.

“I told you before – I don’t know,” Kristoph snapped, pulling on the top half of his prison uniform.

The vibrations of his bracelet begged to differ, but Apollo had no time to press him any further. Four prison guards entered the ward.

“Time to go, Gavin,” one declared. “Got you a nice police escort all the way to the city.” He indicated Apollo and Iris with his baton. “Even got you a couple of travelling companions, too.”

Kristoph ignored them as he stepped into a pair of grey, velcro-fastened sneakers. He calmly slid his glasses on, then turned to the guards with a smile.

“Sounds wonderful, gentlemen,” he remarked as the guards surrounded them. Apollo wondered idly where Jake Marshall was as they made their way out of the prison.

The leader of the group of guards directed them into the prison van. Iris and Apollo sat on each side of Kristoph, Iris periodically checking his vital signs. Two of the guards sat opposite them while two got into the front of the van.

“Don’t try anything, Gavin,” one of the guards warned as the van moved off.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, officer,” Kristoph replied sweetly.

They travelled in silence for a little while before Apollo leaned in and murmured, “Are you sure there isn’t anything you want to tell me, Mr. Gavin?”

Kristoph smirked.

“This is hardly the best time or place for an interrogation, Justice.”

“If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine,” Apollo hissed. “But I know you were afraid of Armando. And I know you know how you got those injuries.” He indicated Kristoph’s wrist and chest. Kristoph narrowed his eyes at him and said nothing. “And sooner or later,” Apollo finished, “you’re going to have to tell the truth.”

Silence. Apollo sat back and let out a deep breath. He glanced at Kristoph, who was staring straight ahead while Iris took his pulse. (What’s he hiding…and why?)

May 3

State Penitentiary Exercise Yard

11.17 AM

“…you can see why I require your…services.”

Tigre just laughed.

Kristoph clenched his sleeves tighter, his nails digging into his skin through the cheap cotton material. He hated this. He hated having no option but to appeal to a man who thought tangerine-orange was a good skin colour, and who thought filing his teeth into points and roaring made him look tough. No finesse, no sophistication – just crude brutality.

“Why should I help youse?” he asked, letting his tongue loll out between his teeth. “Youse got nothin’ to offer me. Even when youse had all those fancy connections, youse had nothin’ to offer me.” He poked a thumb proudly into his chest. “I got mob protection. In with the Cadaverinis, see?”

Kristoph closed his eyes briefly in exasperation, covering his expression by pushing his glasses up his nose.

“How are you ‘ in’ with them?” he asked. “I would have thought they’d be rather displeased with you.”

Tigre grinned smugly at him.

“Viola’s still sweet on me,” he answered. “And whatever Viola wants, Viola gets.”

“I see.”

“Besides,” Tigre continued, “I got nothin’ against Armando. And I seen how he gets, I don’t need dat aggravation.”

Kristoph smirked. “Surely you’re not afraid of a cripple?”

“GWOOOAAAARRRRRRRRR!” Kristoph stepped back, grimacing at the wave of halitosis that washed over him. “The Tiger ain’t afraid of nothin’ or nobody, youse got that?”

Kristoph adjusted his glasses again. Tigre had managed to fog them up, but he didn’t want to take them off and clean them until he had finished dealing with the former loan shark.

“I apologise,” he murmured respectfully.

“Damn right youse apologise!” Tigre snarled. “Now youse ain’t got nothin’ I want, so get outta my way.”

Kristoph closed his eyes as Tigre shoved past him. If Tigre didn’t have a reputation for being as straight as an arrow, even in prison, he would have lowered himself to offering sexual favours, just to get some respite from Armando’s terror campaign. Was there really nothing he could say to change Tigre’s mind…?

“Wait.” Tigre scowled at him, but Kristoph held his ground. “Phoenix Wright put you in here, didn’t he?”

“Dat snotnosed punk…!” Tigre growled. “If I ever get outta here, I’m gonna break his neck!”

Kristoph smiled and pushed his glasses up his nose.

“I’m the one who got him disbarred.”

Tigre stared at him for a few seconds, probably weighing up whether or not Kristoph was telling the truth. At last he broke into a grin.

“Okay,” he laughed, letting his tongue hang out. “I’ll give youse one freebie. I’ll threaten him a little. Just words, no violence.”

Kristoph swallowed. “He has to believe you’ll come after him if anything happens to me,” he said urgently.

“Don’t worry,” Tigre said with a smirk. “I’m a professional.”

Kristoph let out a breath. “When?”

“Later,” Tigre replied. “When he’s nice and comfy and ain’t expectin’ nothin’. Youse can watch if you want…” He frowned at Kristoph. “…just don’t crowd me when I’m workin’.”

With that, he turned on his heel and swaggered away, calling out to a group of gangsters who were throwing a football around.

Kristoph sagged against the wall and pulled his glasses off. He rubbed a hand over his face, not caring who saw him in this moment of weakness. The situation with Armando had him at his wits’ end – sleepless and terrified, like a hunted animal. Kristoph just hoped Tigre could scare Armando enough to make him back off.

If not…

Kristoph squelched the thought immediately. He straightened up, slipping his glasses back on. It would work, he told himself. Now was not the time to give into despair.

May 3

Rec. Room, A Wing

5.58 PM

Kristoph lurked in the corner nearest to the door while the other inmates played pool or cards, or attempted to watch the tiny television set mounted on the wall. He’d spent the day waiting for Tigre to make his move. The thought had crossed his mind, more than once, that the former loan shark had been toying with him.

He could see Armando from where he stood; the man was sitting alone at a table by the far wall, smoking a cigarette and savouring one of the two cups of coffee he was allowed a day. His contented expression filled Kristoph with rage.

Tigre sauntered into the rec. room and Kristoph straightened up as he passed by. At last. Tigre strolled towards Armando and Kristoph moved a little to the right to get a better view.

“Hey! Armando!”

Armando looked up slowly as Tigre planted his hands on his table and leaned forward.

“I got a message for youse,” Tigre growled. “Lay one finger on Gavin, and your life ain’t gonna be worth livin’. Capiche?”

A faint smirk appeared on Armando’s face.

“Oh, youse think I’m playin’, huh?” Tigre said with a grin.

“Hey!”

There was a loud clatter as Rowdy Kitaki half-jumped, half-slid across the pool table, prompting a loud “…the fuck?!” from Daryan Crescend. Rowdy rolled to his feet and into a fighting stance, glaring at Tigre.

“You threatening my homeboy, brah?” Rowdy bawled.

Tigre ignored him and picked up Armando’s ashtray. Smirking, he tipped the contents into Armando’s cup of coffee.

Kristoph held his breath, waiting for Armando to fly into a rage and attack the other man. It was Rowdy who charged Tigre instead.

“Imma teach you some manners, brah –”

Kristoph couldn’t tell from his vantage point whether Tigre hit Rowdy with his fist or elbow, but the impact sent the shorter man flying up and back onto the pool table.

“Somebody wanna muzzle dis mutt?!” Tigre called out in annoyance.

“I got it,” Daryan mumbled, dragging a moaning Rowdy off the pool table and out of the room. Kristoph barely noticed. He couldn’t believe it – Tigre was walking away while Armando simply sat there. He watched a little longer, just in case Armando was planning to jump Tigre while his back was turned.

Armando took a long drag on his cigarette, looked down at the ruined cup of coffee, and gently pushed it away from him.

Kristoph felt his confidence and sense of security flooding back. It had worked. He was back in control.

A moment later, the guards herded them to the cafeteria. For the first time in over a month, Kristoph had an appetite.

*

After the meal, Kristoph returned to his cell. Every evening, he had half an hour alone while Armando got his meds. He decided to get comfortable while he waited for his cellmate to get back. They had a lot to discuss, after all.

Kristoph slid into the bottom bunk. Armando could risk breaking his neck climbing into the top bunk from now on. Let him worry about falling every time the structure shifted and rattled as he struggled to haul himself onto the mattress. Kristoph stretched lazily as he toed off his sneakers, counting off all the new rules he intended to implement now that Armando was running scared.

The sound of shuffling footsteps interrupted his peaceful contemplation. Kristoph affected a casual pose, one hand behind his head, as Armando entered the cell.

A shadow fell across him, but for once Kristoph wasn’t afraid. He looked up as Armando leaned on the bunks and peered in at him, smirking.

“Lonely, kitten?” he remarked. “You should have told me when we first moved in.”

Kristoph simply smiled.

“I’ll be sleeping here from now on,” he replied. He shifted onto his side. “There are going to be some… changes.”

“Ha…!” Armando’s smirk grew broader. “What makes you think you can threaten me?”

Kristoph had expected such a remark. “I think that’s irrelevant, don’t you?” he answered. “The fact remains that I *have* threatened you, and if anything happens to me –”

“No,” Armando interrupted, ducking under the top bunk. He slid into the bottom bunk, and Kristoph backed up, suddenly uncomfortable with the other man’s proximity to him. “I mean…what makes you think you can threaten a man who’s already been to Hell?”

Kristoph’s blood ran cold as he realised, too late, that he’d misread the situation.

Badly.

Armando lay on his back next to him, the lights on his visor almost blinding Kristoph at such a short distance.

“What can Tigre do to me?” Armando asked. His calmness was unnerving. “Torture me?” He slid a little closer, and Kristoph retreated, freezing as his back hit the wall. “I arched my back and spewed my insides on the floor while my lungs seized up and my eyes shut down.” He was so close that all Kristoph could smell was coffee and smoke. “Kill me? What have I got to live for?”

Kristoph’s breath came in shallow pants as he struggled for calm, as he tried to process the enormity of what Armando was saying.

Armando smirked.

“Face it, kitten,” he murmured. “There’s no threat you can make that’ll guarantee your safety. You can avoid me during the day, but at night it’s just you…and me.”

The reality of the situation sank in – months, maybe years of fear and anxiety, of sleepless nights spent waiting and waiting for the hammer to fall. Kristoph began to tunnel out. He felt as if he would pass out or throw up – maybe both.

“Shhhh,” Armando murmured soothingly. He began to hum a lullaby – a song Kristoph remembered his mother singing when he was very small.

He felt Armando’s fingers brush his cheek.

Kristoph cried out and bolted from the bunk, Armando’s manic laughter following as he hit the opposite wall and huddled against it. He had barely time to collect himself before Armando was right behind him, breath hot against his ear.

“How does that feel?” Armando hissed savagely. “How does it feel?”

Kristoph flinched away, powerless to control his body’s responses, and found himself half-crouching against the wall.

“Why are you doing this?!” he blurted out desperately.

“Because I know you,” Armando snarled. “You don’t care that you’re in prison. You continue on just like you did outside, using people to get what you want, manipulating them for your own amusement. This place can’t punish men like you.” He leaned down to Kristoph’s level. “But I can. And I’m going to make you suffer for what you did to those little girls.”

He stepped away, walking towards the back of the cell, and Kristoph sagged against the wall, shaking.

Chapter Text

May 20

Wright Anything Agency

2.09 PM

“Nothing quite like the original,” Maya declared, as the Steel Samurai credits rolled. She slipped the next DVD out of its case and swapped it for the one in the DVD player, then sat back on the couch and crammed a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

“Want some, Pearly?” She offered the bowl to her young cousin, but Pearl simply shook her head. Maya half-turned and looked over the back of the couch, holding out the bowl. “Nick?”

Phoenix stopped mid-pace and stared at the popcorn in confusion. “Huh? N-no, thanks, Maya.”

Maya looked at him suspiciously for a few moments and then turned her attention back to the TV. “What’s with you two?” she asked. “You’re both so uptight today.”

The doorbell rang and Phoenix quickly strode out of the room to answer it. Curious, Maya shovelled down some more popcorn and followed him.

“Howdy, partner,” a deep male voice drawled as Phoenix opened the door.

“Jake, you made it,” Phoenix said with a smile, stepping back to let the cowboy prison guard inside.

“Ooh, Nick, who’s your friend?” Maya asked, bouncing slightly on her toes.

“This is Jake Marshall,” Phoenix explained. “You remember that first year we worked together? He was involved with the case I took after you went back to Kurain.”

“Oh, the one with the body in Mr. Edgeworth’s trunk!” Maya replied, nodding. She stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Maya Fey.” She heard the creak of floorboards behind her and turned to indicate Pearl, who had moved into the hall. “This is my cousin Pearl. We used to help Nick out back when he was a lawyer.”

Jake shook hands with her. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma’am, miss.”

Phoenix moved in, breaking up the meet and greet, and guided Jake into the tiny lounge. “Did you get it?”

“Sure did,” Jake replied. His hand disappeared under his poncho, and re-emerged with a videocassette in a plastic evidence bag.

“Nick, no way!” Maya exclaimed, mouth hanging open in shock. “That’s the missing surveillance tape!” She glanced from one man to the other. “That’s the favour you were calling in?! How did you know Jake would know where to find it?”

Phoenix shrugged. “I didn’t,” he answered. “But it couldn’t hurt to ask.” He turned to Jake. “Where was it, anyway?”

Jake tugged down the brim of his cowboy hat and smirked. “Lucky for us, trash pickup isn’t for a few days.”

Maya was still trying to follow the conversation.

“Wait a minute, Nick!” she interrupted. “The police and Mr. Edgeworth are looking for that tape! Now they’re on a wild goose chase!”

Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck and shot her a nervous grin.

“Well, now the tape’s safe and sound,” he offered sheepishly. “And the warden can’t destroy it when the police show up.”

“Wait, the warden?” Maya asked. “You think he switched the tapes?”

“The warden and I were the only people in the surveillance room at the time,” Jake said gravely. “Tapes were turned over to the police a couple hours after the fire was put out.”

“The fingerprint analysis should confirm it,” Phoenix said, but Jake shook his head.

“Most of these tapes don’t show anything out of the ordinary,” the cowboy guard explained. “Since there ain’t no need to keep the recordings, we use ’em over and over.” He held up the tape. “I don’t think you’ll get a useful print from this one, but you’re welcome to try.”

Phoenix slumped, sweating nervously. “Figures.”

Maya clapped her hands. “Well, let’s take a peek already!” she exclaimed, hopping over to the TV. She leaned over it, disconnecting the DVD player and hooking up the dust-covered VCR.

Phoenix and Jake looked at each other.

“We really should wait for Apollo and Edgeworth to get back,” Phoenix remarked.

“Partner, I put my job on the line and went through half a week’s worth of trash to find this,” Jake replied. “I reckon I got a right to take a gander at it.”

Phoenix grinned. “I can’t argue with that.”

“So put it on already!” Maya insisted. She flopped down on the couch and picked up the abandoned bowl of popcorn.

Jake carefully slipped on a pair of latex gloves, and slid the cassette into the VCR. He stepped back and picked up the remote while Phoenix perched on the arm of the couch.

“New tapes start every three hours on the hour,” Jake explained as he spooled the tape back. “This tape started recording at midnight.”

He hit ‘play’.

A grainy, black and green night filter image appeared on the screen, showing the outside of a prison cell. Beyond the bars, Kristoph and Diego could be seen lying in the bunks.

The date stamp on the bottom of the screen showed 00:00. Phoenix felt a cold shiver up his back. Diego was asleep in his bed, with no idea that he had only twenty minutes left to live.

“I discovered the fire at ten past midnight,” Jake explained, fast-forwarding. “That’s when I sounded the alarm.” Maya sat forward on the couch as smoke became visible on the tape, the wisps more obvious at high speed.

The men suddenly moved and Jake slowed the tape to normal speed. There was no sound, but Diego was obviously coughing as he rolled out of bed, fumbling with his visor. He made his way to the bars, rattling them desperately in an attempt to open them.

Phoenix’s attention was drawn to Kristoph in the top bunk. He was looking around desperately, backing up into the corner, huddling there with his knees drawn up to his chest. If Phoenix didn’t know better, he’d think the man was…

(…terrified.)

Diego was on his hands and knees on the floor. Phoenix couldn’t tell if he was coughing or not. He glanced around him, then turned his attention to the bunks.

Phoenix frowned, trying to work out what was going on. Was Diego saying something to Kristoph? Could he even be heard over the fire alarm? Diego waved his arm and Kristoph backed up further, almost out of the camera’s line of sight. Diego stood up and went towards the bunks. He jumped up, grabbing hold of some part of the top bunk.

The tape cut off abruptly.

Phoenix stared at the dark screen, unable to believe what he’d seen.

“He did do it,” Maya murmured from the couch. She looked up at Phoenix, her expression a mixture of disbelief and sadness. “Diego attacked Mr. Gavin.”

“No!”

Both of them turned as Pearl jumped up from the couch. “No, it’s not true! Mr. Diego wouldn’t li-”

She broke off, clamming up as she noticed their stares.

Phoenix glanced at Maya. She nodded.

“Wouldn’t what, Pearls?” he asked.

The young medium looked at them warily.

“Wouldn’t…wouldn’t do something like that,” she offered.

Phoenix slid his hand into his pocket, brushing his fingertips against the Magatama. “Something like what?” he pressed. Pearl didn’t answer, and he had a feeling he knew why. So he answered for her. “Something like attacking another prisoner?”

She nodded. It was enough. Several locks and chains appeared around her.

Phoenix swallowed, suddenly reminded of the last time he’d had to break Psyche-locks on Pearl. He pushed the memory aside. He had a feeling he knew what she’d done, and what she’d really meant to say before she realised they were listening. And he thought he knew why she wanted to hide it from them.

“Why do you think he wouldn’t do something like that, Pearls?” Phoenix asked gently.

“Because –” Pearl broke off and stared straight at the pocket where Phoenix had the Magatama. Phoenix wondered suddenly if she could sense its presence. “Because I know he wouldn’t. That’s all.”

Phoenix placed the Magatama on the coffee table.

“If that really was all, Pearls,” he murmured, “I wouldn’t be able to see Psyche-locks.”

Pearl pushed up her sleeve, clenching her other hand into a fist.

“Then show me some evidence,” she snapped, reminding Phoenix of Trucy in her petulant, teenage-girl moments. “You can’t prove I’m lying.”

Phoenix tapped the Magatama with a finger. “True,” he replied. “I don’t have any evidence.” He looked up at her. “But I think you have some. Something that proves Diego didn’t attack anybody that night.”

None of the locks broke, but Pearl shifted nervously, bringing her thumb up to her mouth. Phoenix decided to press further.

“I know you cared about Mr. Diego,” he said. “If you have evidence that proves he didn’t start the fight, why would you hide it?”

“Th – that’s right!” Pearl answered defiantly, pushing her sleeve up again. “I wouldn’t hide it, I’d show it to Apollo! So I don’t have anything!”

“You’d get in trouble.”

Pearl broke off and stared at him, unnerved. “Wh-what?”

“You did something you weren’t supposed to do,” Phoenix explained. “And you think you’ll get in trouble. That’s why you won’t come forward.”

Pearl stared at him in fright. “D-don’t!”

“Nick, stop!” Maya urged, putting her hand on Phoenix’s arm. She turned to her cousin. “Pearly, it’s all right, really. You can tell me the truth.” She smiled at her. “You can tell me anything.”

Pearl looked nervously from one to the other, her lip trembling. “M-Mystic Maya…”

“Maya,” Phoenix repeated. He felt sorry for Pearl, but he couldn’t give up now, not when he was so close to getting her to open up. “You’re afraid she’ll be angry with you. Isn’t that right?”

One of the locks shattered.

“Nick, that’s enough!” Maya insisted angrily. “I think I know what she did.” She stood up and pulled Pearl into a hug. “You channelled Diego, didn’t you?”

Pearl sniffled and nodded. Phoenix saw the rest of the locks break and the chains fall away.

“I’m sorry,” Pearl gulped. “I just had to know if he was okay, and if he was with Mystic Mia...”

“It’s all right, Pearly,” Maya replied. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” She looked at her cousin. “Did he write you a note?”

Pearl nodded. She reached into her robe and pulled out a slip of paper, tatty from being folded and unfolded. Maya took it with a smile. Phoenix stood next to her, and they read it together.

“…”

“Can we trust this?” Phoenix murmured, looking at Maya. “Can we trust him?”

Maya shook her head slightly.

“Even if we could,” she replied, “we can’t submit this as evidence.”

Phoenix stroked his beard.

“Maybe there’s another way to find out whether Diego told Pearl the truth,” he remarked.

“Partner, I’m ’bout as lost as a polar bear in the desert,” Jake interrupted. “Mind telling me what’s going on?”

“I’ve got a theory,” Phoenix explained. “Let’s put it to the test.”

Chapter Text

May 20

Forensics Lab

3.25 PM

Apollo shook his head in disbelief as he watched the tape again.

“I knew it,” he murmured. “I knew he remembered more than he let on.” He stopped the tape and took it out of the VCR. They had dusted the tape for fingerprints, but as Jake feared, there were so many smudged together that it was impossible to say who had handled it last. Apollo brandished it angrily. “He can’t deny it any more. I’m gonna take this to the Detention Centre right now and make him talk –”

“Whoa, easy there,” Phoenix interrupted, swiftly relieving Apollo of the tape. He held it over his head, and only brought his arm down when it became clear that Apollo wasn’t going to make a grab for it. “Let’s do this reconstruction first.”

“I cannot believe you talked Detective Skye into indulging your ridiculous notions,” Edgeworth sniffed from beside the door. The prosecutor had been glaring daggers at Phoenix since he’d shown him the videotape and explained how he’d gotten hold of it. “Staging a reconstruction based on the word of a dead man –”

“Since Gavin won’t tell us what happened, the victim’s statement will have to do,” Apollo interrupted, glaring back.

“- to say nothing of how you obtained this evidence,” Edgeworth continued, ignoring Apollo. “For all you knew, Marshall was the one who concealed the videotape.”

“There was a fifty-fifty chance he wasn’t,” Phoenix replied with a shrug. “What can I say? I’m a gambler.”

“Trusting a convicted felon isn’t a gamble, Wright,” Edgeworth retorted. “It’s irresponsible and reckless.”

Phoenix squared up to him, a thunderous expression on his face.

“I think Maggey Byrde would disagree,” he spat.

“Gentlemen!”

Both men were forced to step back as the door swung open. Ema leaned into the room, glanced at the angry expressions, and smirked. “Could you put your lovers’ tiff on hold? We’re ready to start now.”

“Ms. Skye’s attitude has deteriorated greatly since I saw her last,” Edgeworth muttered as they followed the detective to the testing room.

“Yeah?” Phoenix smirked at him. “I kinda like it.”

Edgeworth snorted, but smirked back. “You would.”

The room was set up exactly as the cell where the murder occurred. Tape on the floor showed where the distance between the bunk beds and the toilet had been measured. More tape on one of the legs of the bunk beds indicated precisely how much it had been shortened to produce the same wobble as the original. The only difference was the foam padding fixed to the edge of the toilet bowl and the metal frame of the top bunk. Maya hovered around the scene, Diego’s note clutched in her hand.

Apollo stopped short on entering the room, his gaze falling on Klavier standing by the bunk, dressed in a prison uniform. Jake Marshall was next to him, similarly attired.

“Gavin…” Apollo said quietly.

Klavier shifted uncomfortably and shot him an uneasy smile.

“Fraulein Detective needed volunteers to help with the reconstruction,” he explained. “Who better to play the role of my brother?”

“I would’ve done it,” Apollo started, but Klavier cut him off.

“Not tall enough, Herr Forehead,” he remarked, a teasing note entering his voice. “You should have eaten more greens when you were a boy, ja?”

Edgeworth folded his arms and tapped a finger on his bicep.

“I’m not comfortable with Marshall participating in this reconstruction,” he remarked.

“That’s too bad, hombre,” Jake replied. “Armando was over six feet tall and lean as a rattlesnake, and I’m the only outlaw here who fits that description.”

Apollo couldn’t hide a smirk as Phoenix fidgeted and Edgeworth shuffled his feet.

Ema cast a sour look in Edgeworth’s direction. “If Marshall tries to affect the outcome, I’ll know,” she said. She handed both men safety helmets. “Now, if we’re done making everyone feel short…? Gavin, get up there.”

Klavier clambered up onto the top bunk with some difficulty, Jake having to give him a boost. Ema flicked through a collection of still images taken from the tape, found the correct one, and looked up at him.

“Back right up into the corner,” she told Klavier. “Marshall, stand here…” She led Jake to the right spot between the floor and the toilet, carefully measured from the videotape and marked with an X. “Okay.”

Maya came forward. “Jake, when you jump up there, try to grab Klavier and drag him down from the bunk,” she said. She checked the note again, then stepped back a little and called up to Klavier. “Klavier! Turn your back to him. And remember, this man wants to kill you. Don’t let him pull you down!”

Klavier paled a little, but nodded. “J-ja, Fraulein Fey.”

Maya stepped back behind the line on the floor marking off the testing area. Ema did likewise, and started the camera rolling.

Jake jumped up at the top bunk, grabbing hold of the mattress. He managed to get a knee up, and rolled onto the bed.

“Cut!” Maya yelled, prompting Ema to terminate the recording with a sigh. Jake and Klavier turned to look at her. Maya came forward, brandishing the note.

“Jake, you have trouble moving because of nerve damage,” she explained. “You don’t have the agility to get up there.”

Jake frowned at her. “You’re sayin’ he tried to pull Gavin with his legs danglin’ over the edge of the mattress?” he asked.

Maya folded her arms. “Yes,” she answered.

Jake gazed at her for several seconds, then shrugged. “You’re the director.” He got down from the bunk, Maya withdrew, and they began again.

Jake jumped up at the top bunk, keeping the lower half of his body dangling over the edge, as instructed. He shuffled over to Klavier with difficulty, and did his best to try and drag him over to the edge of the bunk.

Phoenix kept his fingers crossed as the two men struggled. Jake was having no luck getting Klavier down from the bunk, and Phoenix expected the cowboy guard to announce that it was impossible any minute now. The thought flashed through his mind that Armando could have been lying. Especially if he really had started trouble and Kristoph had killed him in self-defence. The fact that that part of the note was addressed to him personally should have sent up a red flag. Phoenix ran a hand nervously over the back of his neck. He’d convinced Apollo to give up trying to crack Kristoph and come here in the hopes of some magic explanation, some improbable yet completely true story straight out of his own glory days, and now he’d wasted everybody’s time and Apollo would feel screwed over again and –

“Nick, look!”

Phoenix snapped out of it just in time to see Jake with a hold of Klavier’s legs, Klavier scrabbling to hold onto the mattress. Their combined weight hung over the unstable bed leg. Momentum and gravity did the rest. Jake’s helmet collided with the padded toilet with a thud, and a muffled bang followed as the bunk beds crashed to earth on top of them both.

There was a stunned silence as everyone stared at the scene before them.

“Eureka,” Edgeworth muttered. He and Phoenix jogged over to the beds and began to lift them up.

“Whoa, partner,” Jake groaned as Maya helped him up. “I felt that even with all the safety gear.” He took his helmet off and touched the back of his head, checking for blood. Across from him, Klavier was sitting up, rubbing his chest.

“Are you all right?” Edgeworth asked, extending a hand.

“Ja, I think so,” Klavier replied. He brushed himself off and the group made their way over to Ema and the recording equipment.

“This is it,” Ema murmured, a stunned expression on her face. She replayed the moment when the bunks tipped over, freezing the frame just after impact. Jake lay half-propped against the toilet, with Klavier half in his lap, the bunk beds lying across Klavier’s chest. “That’s how it happened.”

“Hold it!”

All of them turned to look at Apollo. The young attorney was staring at them, an expression of utter disbelief on his face.

“…That’s it?!” he asked. “After all this time, after everything we’ve been through…you’re telling me there was no murder?!” He broke off and frowned. “There was no murder.” (And if Armando’s death really *was* an accident, why was it treated like a murder? Unless…)

“I’m afraid I can’t accept that.”

Everyone looked at Edgeworth. The prosecutor removed his glasses and folded the handles down with a click.

“This reconstruction is very compelling,” he explained, “and I will not object to your using it in court tomorrow, Justice.” He tilted his head slightly and smirked at Apollo. “But you still need hard evidence to back it up. And if the evidence you produce is not satisfactory, I will be forced to bring it to the judge’s attention.” Edgeworth put his glasses back on and nodded to the rest of the group. “Gentlemen. Ladies.”

Apollo glared after the prosecutor as he left the room.

Phoenix shook his head with a smile. “Same old Edgeworth.”

“He’s such a hardass!” Maya declared, puffing out her cheeks. She turned to Apollo, all fired up. “How about it, Apollo? Got some evidence to prove old Mr. Frillypants wrong?”

Apollo frowned, pushing a finger against his forehead. Could it really be true that the senior prison staff orchestrated a cover-up, one that had managed to fool everybody until now? He tried to think back to all the evidence he’d uncovered, resisting the urge to wonder whether some or all of it was forged.

“Ach… Fraulein Detective, does this look like a bruise to you?”

“Gavin, I keep telling you I’m not interested! Now get that out of my face!”

Apollo turned around, intending to snap at both of them to knock it off already, he was trying to think. The words died on his lips. Klavier was holding up his shirt, prodding at his chest where the bunk beds landed on him.

Apollo looked at Maya. “I do,” he murmured. He couldn’t help breaking into a smile when Maya bounced up and down, a goofy grin on her face.

“Don’t keep us in suspense!” she insisted. “Spill!”

“Later,” Apollo promised. He glanced at the others. “Right now I gotta go talk to my client.”

May 20

Detention Centre

4.17 PM

Apollo had hoped that moving Kristoph out of the prison would have a calming effect on him. Instead the opposite was true – the man sitting across from him had several nervous tics on display. Apollo took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Mr. Gavin,” he began, “I’ll need you to be in court tomorrow.”

Kristoph shook his head slightly. “I really don’t feel up to that, Mr. Justice.”

Apollo bit back several sarcastic replies. Who knew how far Kristoph was prepared to go, if he felt under pressure, to get out of standing in the dock?

“I can clear your name,” Apollo declared.

Kristoph looked at him sharply.

“You…believe me?” he asked. The surprise in his voice would have been a warning flag to Apollo a day or even a few hours earlier, but not now.

“No,” Apollo replied, shaking his head. He leaned forward, gazing intensely at his former mentor. “I know you didn’t do it.” He watched the mixture of emotions that flashed across Kristoph’s face, and continued. “But to prove it, I really need you in that dock tomorrow.”

Kristoph stared back for a few moments, then leaned back in his chair and passed his good hand over his face.

“Will you need me to testify?”

Apollo considered his answer, and decided to be honest. “Probably.”

Kristoph heaved a sigh. Apollo kept quiet and just watched.

“Very well, Justice,” he replied. He gave a sardonic smile. “I’ve already experienced your worst when it comes to cross-examination, after all.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” Apollo replied.

Kristoph nodded. “Tomorrow.”

Apollo rose and left the room. There was nothing more to say, after all.

He mounted his bike and began to cycle back to the office, hoping Kristoph would co-operate and not pull some kind of stunt to get out of court in the morning. Apollo shook his head slightly, and decided not to think about it. He needed a peaceful evening and a good night’s sleep.

And maybe a couple of burgers.

Chapter Text

May 21

Defendant Lobby No. 3

9.43 AM

Apollo paced nervously back and forth in the defendant lobby. Only seventeen minutes to go till court reconvened, and Kristoph was nowhere to be seen.

“Don’t worry, Polly,” Trucy said. “Mr. Gavin will be here. It’s way early, anyway.”

Apollo stopped and looked at her.

“I guess you’re right,” he replied. He took a deep breath and blew it out. “I’m just – well, you never know with Kristoph Gavin.”

“The police will make sure he gets here,” Trucy assured him. “It’s not like he’s a trained escapologist, right?”

(I’m not worried about him *escaping*.) Apollo ran a hand over his hair, flattening his spikes only to have them spring up again. He tried not to think about what Kristoph might do to get out of appearing in court. He walked over to the couch where Trucy was sitting and leaned against the wall, tilting his head back.

He and Trucy were alone in the lobby. Phoenix had wanted to wait with them, but Maya had dragged him away with talk of a new breakfast burger that he just had to try. The spirit medium had shot Apollo a smile as she hustled Phoenix out the door, and he’d smiled back in gratitude. The last thing he needed before the trial was a dramatic showdown between his former and current mentors.

The door opened and Apollo quickly straightened up.

“Gavin…?” he called. His face fell when he saw Miles Edgeworth step into the room.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Justice,” the prosecutor replied with a smirk.

Apollo folded his arms and glared at him. “What do you want?” he asked.

“Just to talk,” Edgeworth replied. Apollo’s stance didn’t change, and Edgeworth looked him up and down once before continuing. “I’m not here to psyche you out, Justice.”

Apollo stared at him for a few seconds, then reluctantly relaxed his arms, letting them drop to his sides.

Edgeworth took off his glasses and folded them up.

“I know what argument you’re going to present today,” he said. “Under different circumstances, it’s one I would make myself. But the State’s argument is that your client committed murder. And my job is to present that argument.” He paused, the dramatic moment marred slightly when he squinted at Apollo. “Do you gather my meaning?”

Apollo nodded. “Yes.”

“Good.” Edgeworth replaced his glasses and turned to leave. Apollo folded his arms again as he watched the prosecutor walk away.

Edgeworth reached the door, opened it, then turned and looked back.

“It’s nothing personal, Justice.”

Apollo nodded again. “I know.”

Edgeworth lingered a few seconds, looking as if he wanted to say something else. Finally he gave the two a faint smile, and was gone.

“So Mr. Edgeworth thinks we’re right,” Trucy mused, tapping her chin. “That’s gotta be good…” She looked at Apollo, her face falling when she saw his serious expression. “…right?”

Apollo shook his head.

“He’s gonna come down extra hard on us if we make any mistakes,” he replied.

“Well that sucks,” Trucy huffed, folding her arms. “Daddy always told me Mr. Edgeworth helped him to find out the truth, but that sounds like he just cares about beating us.”

“It’s because he cares about the truth that he’s going to be so tough on us,” Apollo explained. “If we’re right, then our case won’t have any contradictions.” He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. “I just hope I have an explanation for anything Edgeworth picks on.”

Trucy leaned next to him against the wall, uncharacteristically quiet. Apollo tried to relax and re-focus on the trial, concentrating on his breathing. The sound of people outside the Defendant Lobby interrupted his meditation.

Apollo straightened up as the door opened. Two police officers entered, and Apollo heaved a sigh of relief when he saw Kristoph Gavin handcuffed between them.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Gavin?” he asked.

Kristoph shot him a disgusted look.

“I was not allowed to wear a suit,” he growled sulkily. “Instead I have to face the courtroom looking like a common criminal.” He clumsily bumped his glasses up his nose with his bad hand, and glanced around the room. “…Wright not with you?”

Apollo stared him down. “Today’s not about him.”

A small smile graced Kristoph’s lips. “I suppose not.” He looked up at the clock. “It seems the hour of reckoning is almost upon us.” He tilted his head slightly and his smile broadened. “I took a chance in trusting you, Justice. Pray you don’t make me regret it.”

Apollo gulped as the police officers led Kristoph into the courtroom. (Well, so much for going into this relaxed and calm.) He pulled himself together, pushing up his sleeves, teasing the tips of his spikes into sharp points. (It’s time for justice…for Kristoph Gavin, and Diego Armando.)

May 21

Courtroom No. 3

10.00 AM

The murmurings from the gallery were particularly loud this morning, and Apollo guessed it was due to Kristoph’s presence in the dock. Across the courtroom, Prosecutor Edgeworth was shuffling papers on the prosecution bench. Klavier was sitting above him, nearest the door. Nurse Hawthorne was further down. Apollo wondered if she’d been fired from the prison hospital. It didn’t seem fair for her to lose her job for – doing her job. Apollo gritted his teeth. Hopefully when the real culprit was exposed, she’d be reinstated.

He glanced up at the gallery behind him just in time to see Maya, Pearl and Phoenix taking their seats. Apollo dropped his gaze and directed it at his client, standing impassively in the dock. He wondered how Kristoph would react to the security tape.

The judge settled in his chair and called for order with a rap of his gavel.

“This court is now in session,” he declared. “Is the prosecution ready?”

“The prosecution is always ready, Your Honour,” Edgeworth replied with a smirk.

“Is the defence ready?”

Apollo smirked right back. “Ready, Your Honour.”

“Then if all the jurists are present…” The judge directed a questioning look at the bailiff, who nodded. “…Mr. Edgeworth, please get us underway.”

“Your Honour, the prosecution wishes to question the defendant,” Edgeworth declared, “the elusive Mr. Kristoph Gavin.”

Apollo sucked in a breath. It wasn’t exactly an unexpected request, but he worried about how Kristoph would react. His anxiety only deepened when Kristoph directed a brief glare at him.

“I trust the defence has no objections?” Edgeworth asked.

Apollo bit his lip. He had a feeling he knew where Edgeworth was going with this, and it could make Kristoph look very bad. But it was the only way he was ever going to get his client to admit the truth.

“N-no objections,” he answered.

“No objections here.” Both lawyers looked up as Kristoph took the witness stand. He gave them a pleasant smile, and Apollo tried to ignore the way his eyes burned into him from behind his glasses. “Ask me anything…Prosecutor.”

Edgeworth smirked, shuffling the papers on his bench.

“Mr. Gavin,” he began, “do you recall the statement you gave to the police officers regarding the night of the murder?”

“Yes,” Kristoph replied.

Edgeworth slipped his glasses off, holding them in front of him. “Would you care to repeat it for the court?”

“I was asleep in my bunk,” Kristoph replied calmly. “When I woke up, I was in the prison hospital. I have no knowledge of how Diego Armando died.”

“Interesting.” Edgeworth put his glasses back on. “Let’s watch a little video, shall we?”

Everyone in the courtroom turned their attention to the screens as the footage from the surveillance tape was played. There were audible gasps from the gallery, but Apollo’s attention was focussed on Kristoph. A terrible expression had appeared on his face – rage mingled with panic.

“Your Honour,” Edgeworth explained, “this is the missing surveillance tape from the security camera mounted outside the defendant’s cell. As you can clearly see, Mr. Gavin was very much awake minutes before the murder, as was the victim, Mr. Armando.”

Kristoph tilted his head slightly as he turned to look at Apollo. The courtroom lights caught his lenses, reflecting off them so that Apollo couldn’t see his eyes. His soft voice carried in the quiet courtroom.

“It seems I was wrong to trust you, Mr. Justice.”

Apollo froze up. “Nngh…!”

Kristoph turned his attention to Edgeworth, a joyless smile on his face.

“Well done, Prosecutor,” he remarked. “I would applaud your powers of deduction, but…” He shrugged his shoulder, indicating his bad hand. “I do know how Diego Armando died.”

Kristoph paused, and looked straight at Apollo.

“I killed him. In self-defence.”

The gallery was in an uproar. Apollo smacked his fists on the bench. “NO!”

“ORDER!” the judge yelled, smacking his gavel repeatedly. “Mr. Justice, control yourself!” The murmuring died down a little and the judge banged his gavel again. “ORDER! The next person to speak without the court’s permission will be thrown out!”

The threat had the desired effect, and silence was restored to the courtroom. The judge turned to the defendant.

“Mr. Gavin,” he asked, “am I to understand you wish to change your plea?”

Kristoph pushed his glasses up his nose. “Yes, Your Honour.”

“Objection!” Apollo shouted desperately. “Your Honour, my client has not discussed this course of action with me!”

“And it appears you didn’t discuss this crucial piece of evidence with your client before coming here,” Edgeworth cut in smugly. He wagged his finger at him. “What is Wright teaching you?”

Apollo wanted to jump over the bench and stuff the older man’s cravat down his throat.

“Don’t let him get to you, Polly!” Trucy urged. “Hurry up and do something before the judge accepts Mr. Gavin’s plea!”

Apollo shook himself. “R-right!” He raised his voice. “Your Honour! I demand that the defendant testify about the events in question!”

“Objection!” Edgeworth shot back. “The defence is clutching at straws, Your Honour!”

“Objection!” Apollo countered. “Mr. Edgeworth established only moments ago that up to now, the defendant has never testified truthfully about the murder!”

The judge blinked owlishly. “Mr. Justice,” he said slowly, “you realise, since your client’s plea has not been formally changed from ‘Not Guilty’, his testimony may be very damaging to your case.”

Apollo folded his arms and smirked. “Your Honour, I don’t believe he’s going to tell the truth now, either.” He shot a look at Kristoph, who was sweating profusely on the stand.

The judge took a deep breath and blew it out, clearly irritated. “Mr. Edgeworth, do you have any objections to the defendant testifying?”

Edgeworth smirked and pulled his glasses off his face, letting them dangle from his hand.

“I never could resist a good train wreck,” he answered. “By all means, Mr. Gavin, please testify about what you claim really happened on the night of the murder.”

Apollo scrutinised his former mentor. Kristoph was clutching his elbow with his good hand, fingernails digging into the material. His eyes darted from one side of the courtroom to the other. He could lie, and try to get convicted of a lesser charge, or clam up completely and take a chance on a lawyer who had apparently betrayed him. He’d painted himself into a corner, and he knew it.

“The night of the murder…”

“Speak up!” the Judge said irritably.

Kristoph composed himself.

“Of course, Your Honour.” He cleared his throat and began again.

“It’s exactly as you see in the video,” Kristoph declared. “I awoke to the shrill of the fire alarm, and choking, black smoke all around me. Armando lunged at me out of the darkness and dragged me from my bunk.” He paused, pushing his glasses up his nose. “He left me no choice. I shoved him back and down as hard as I could. I passed out shortly after that.”

The judge closed his eyes and inclined his head forward slightly.

“I assume the defence wish to cross-examine the defendant?”

“Absolutely, Your Honour,” Apollo replied.

The judge glowered at him.

“Mr. Justice,” he warned, “given the nature of your client’s testimony, and your preposterous claim that he is lying to cover up his own innocence…”

Apollo gulped, sweat breaking out on his forehead.

“…I will permit very little leeway,” the judge continued. “Get to the point quickly, or you will be severely penalised.”

“Y-yes, Your Honour!” Apollo answered. “Understood!”

“Polly, just say the word and Mr. Hat and I will cause a distraction,” Trucy whispered.

“It’s okay,” Apollo whispered back. He stared intensely at his former mentor. (Kristoph’s done his best to feign ignorance since this investigation started. Now he’s scrambling to make up a story based on the facts he *thinks* we know about. That’s where I’ll catch him!)

Chapter Text

Kristoph began to repeat his testimony. Apollo kept quiet, focussing on the gentle vibrations of his bracelet. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Trucy shooting him worried glances – wondering why he wasn’t interrupting. At last, Kristoph reached the end of his testimony.

“I passed out shortly after that.”

“Hold it!” Apollo shouted.

Kristoph locked eyes with him for a split second, before a serene smile crossed his face. “Yes, Mr. Justice?”

“Is that really all you remember?” Apollo asked.

“Of course,” Kristoph answered.

“Hm.” Apollo shuffled through the papers on his bench. “What about the bunk beds falling over?”

Kristoph’s expression grew cagey. Staring at him, Apollo could see the gears turning in his head. (He’s trying to remember what he told me about the bunks – making sure his stories match.)

“I…don’t remember anything about the bunk beds falling,” Kristoph said carefully.

“Well, they did,” Apollo declared. “The warden testified to that on the first day of the trial. When he came across the crime scene, the bunk beds were lying on top of you and the victim.”

“I’m afraid I don’t remember that,” Kristoph answered. “Though I’m sure the warden’s –” his eyes narrowed for a split second, “- testimony was accurate.”

“Your Honour,” Apollo said, “since this is an important point, the defence requests that the defendant’s statement about the bunk beds be added to his testimony.”

The judge nodded. “Very well,” he replied. “Defendant, amend your testimony accordingly.”

“Of course, Your Honour,” Kristoph answered.

As Kristoph began to speak, an eerie feeling began to creep over Apollo. He let himself go with it, time slowing down as he began to tunnel out. There was nothing in the room except for Kristoph, in glorious high definition. Apollo watched him for any twitch, any tic, anything that didn’t fit with his calm demeanour.

“I

don’t

remember…”

There it was!

“Gotcha!”

The courtroom snapped back into place, and Apollo blinked a little at the brightness and stillness of it. He pointed a finger at Kristoph.

“Mr. Gavin, you touched your wrist just now,” he explained, indicating Kristoph’s broken wrist. “Right when you said you didn’t remember.” Apollo tapped his forehead thoughtfully. “I’ve been meaning to ask how that happened.”

Kristoph’s eyes darted back and forth, the only outward sign of any panic.

“I…don’t remember.”

Apollo shook his head.

“You’ve done nothing but lie since you entered this courtroom,” he accused. He began to tick the lies off on his fingers. “You didn’t sleep through the murder. You do remember how you broke your wrist. You do remember the bunk beds falling. Armando didn’t drag you from your bunk. You didn’t shove him. And it wasn’t self defence.” He pointed an accusing finger at Kristoph. “And you haven’t trusted me for five minutes since this investigation started, because if you had, you would have told me the truth from the beginning. And the truth is that you didn’t kill Armando, in self defence or any other way!”

“Objection!” Edgeworth interrupted. “Your client’s admitted his own guilt, Justice! The least you can do is lose gracefully and stop wasting the court’s time!”

“Objection!” Apollo countered. “I haven’t gotten to the biggest lie of all yet. The reason for all the other lies.”

“Then get to it quickly, Justice,” the judge declared, his gavel hand twitching impatiently. “What is this ‘biggest lie’? And you’d better show some proof of it, or else!”

“Simple,” Apollo replied with a smirk. “It’s all there on tape.”

The judge frowned as the surveillance tape was played again.

“Here!” Apollo declared. The image on the screens froze as the tape was paused. Apollo pointed to the expression of abject terror on Kristoph’s face.

The judge continued to frown.

“Are you sure this is the evidence you want to present, Mr. Justice?” he asked.

“Yes, Your Honour,” Apollo answered. “The big lie is one that Mr. Gavin told me over and over - that he wasn’t afraid of his cellmate.”

Edgeworth shook his head, a look of contempt on his face.

“Kristoph Gavin was locked in a cell with Diego Armando for six weeks,” Apollo continued. “A man who did this –” he held up a photograph “- to Daryan Crescend because he tripped him and made him drop his lunch. A man so violent and unpredictable, the prison psychiatrist refused to be alone with him.” Apollo folded his arms and directed a smirk at Kristoph, who yet again was clutching his elbow tightly. “The defendant was terrified of, and was terrorised by, the victim. But it was vital that nobody knew it.”

“Objection!” Edgeworth shouted. He slammed a hand on the bench for emphasis. “No one in their right mind would plead guilty to a murder that they didn’t commit!”

“Objection!” Apollo snapped back. “You said it yourself on the first day of this trial… ‘Mr. Gavin also remains unharmed by his criminal peers.’ You accused Daryan Crescend of smuggling contraband for him. Do you really think Crescend was the only one?”

Edgeworth slammed the bench again, momentarily flustered. “This – this is all conjecture!”

“Think about it!” Apollo replied. “No matter how this trial ends, Kristoph Gavin goes back to prison. The only thing he has left is his reputation among the other prisoners. What’s better – going back as a coward, or going back as the guy who took out the biggest psycho on the block since Matt Engarde got the chair?”

“Objection!” Edgeworth shouted. “None of this is evidence! It’s nothing but a glorified flailing of the limbs!”

Apollo thudded his fists on the bench. “You know I’m right!”

“I know the law!” Edgeworth shot back. “The law depends on evidence! It doesn’t depend on feelings or magical powers!” He pulled his glasses off his face. “Not unless you took your bar exam at Clown College!”

The judge banged his gavel before Apollo could yell a response.

“Order!” he bellowed. “Gentlemen! This is a court of law, not a street corner.” He looked at Apollo. “Mr. Justice, I am inclined to agree with Mr. Edgeworth. You have yet to show any hard evidence that the defendant is lying about killing the victim.”

Apollo broke into a sweat, antennae drooping over his forehead. “B-but, Your Honour…!”

“…ha.”

Judge, attorney and prosecutor fell silent, looking for who had spoken.

“Ha ha ha.”

The laugh was devoid of mirth, a hollow, desperate sound. The judge was the first to identify its source.

“…Mr. Gavin!”

“Ha ha ha ha ha.” Kristoph stopped abruptly, leaning forward on the bench, a demented look on his face.

“…I should have trusted you, Justice,” he said. He let out a crazed chuckle, and looked around the courtroom.

“Edgeworth.” The prosecutor looked at him, and Kristoph continued. “Do you have any idea what would happen to me if people knew they could intimidate me just by acting like maniacs?”

Edgeworth leaned forward on the bench. “Then…you’re saying…?”

“I didn’t kill him,” Kristoph answered. He gulped as if trying to suppress more laughter. “I should’ve killed him. I had no help from the guards. None of the prisoners would touch him.” He was cringing, drawing his arms in tightly, hunching as he glanced around the courtroom. “He knew what I’d done. No escape…trapped on all sides…”

Apollo clenched his fists on the bench. (I was right!) He looked at the judge and Edgeworth, glancing anxiously between them. (Now if only they’ll accept his testimony…!)

“Your Honour!” he pleaded. “The defence requests that the defendant testify again about the night of the murder!”

The judge closed his eyes and considered. Apollo held his breath.

“Very well,” the judge replied. “One last testimony from the defendant.” He glowered at Kristoph. “The truth, this time.”

Kristoph attempted to compose himself. “Yes, Your Honour.”

He looked up, gazing out at the court with a haunted look in his eyes.

“They locked me up with a madman. He tormented me for six weeks. And on the night of the fire, I thought the end had come…”

May 17

State Penitentiary

12.20 AM

The deafening shrill of the fire alarm couldn’t drown out the coughing and cries for help of the men housed on A-Wing. It distorted them into an unearthly roar, a monstrous death rattle punctuated by screams. Acrid smoke stung Kristoph’s eyes and filled his lungs. He could hear the flames. They were close.

It was so dark that he couldn’t see where the bed ended and the drop to the floor began. The corner behind him was cool, so he backed up into it. Rescue would come soon. No-one would be so cruel as to let them all burn to death…

Then he saw Armando’s visor, glowing like the fires of Hell.

“No!”

The lights left little red trails as Armando jumped for him, the bunks shaking as he grabbed onto the mattress. Kristoph struck out with a foot and hit something human. He caught Armando’s snarl, illuminated by his visor, and backed further into the corner.

“…you doing?”

A large hand clamped onto his shoulder. Kristoph twisted away, turning around in desperation, but there was nowhere to go.

“…choke!”

He flailed as Armando grabbed him again, pulling him to the edge with a strength that a man in his condition shouldn’t have had. Kristoph thrashed frantically, but to no avail. His cry of,

“Let go of me!”

was lost forever under the screeching alarm.

His legs slipped off the bunk and he clawed at his bedding in panic, desperate to retain a handhold. Armando was right behind him, body covering his own, hands fisted in his clothes. Kristoph squirmed and struggled as cold, primal terror filled his being.

Then, a moment of zero gravity, followed by horrifying freefall.

The crack was so close that he heard it in the din. It was accompanied by the wet *splatch* of blood spatter as he landed hard on Armando’s body. The bunks crashed to earth on his chest, forcing the breath out of him as a sharp pain seared in his wrist. He shoved weakly at the metal frame lying across him with his uninjured hand, gasping for air with crushed, smoke-filled lungs.

And Armando never moved again.

Kristoph’s blond hair hung in limp, crinkled strings around his face. He reached up with a shaking hand and pulled his glasses off.

“A compelling performance, indeed.”

All eyes turned to Edgeworth as he broke the silence that had settled in the courtroom following Kristoph’s testimony.

“Worthy of an Oscar,” the prosecutor continued. He took a bow. “You missed your calling as an actor, Mr. Gavin.”

Kristoph glared at Edgeworth with such rage that for a minute Apollo thought the older man would burst into flames.

“Does the defence have any evidence to back up this story?” Edgeworth continued. “Or are you hoping the jurists will be swayed by emotion?”

Apollo narrowed his eyes, but ignored the barb. “Your Honour, we carried out a reconstruction of the crime based on the surveillance tape and…” He hesitated, then went with, “…witness testimony yesterday afternoon.” He handed the videotape of the reconstruction to the bailiff, who played it on the screens in the courtroom. “As you can see, the reconstruction matches the defendant’s testimony.”

“Objection!” Edgeworth interrupted. He wagged a finger at Apollo. “Mr. Justice, I’m surprised at you. Pointing out contradictions is supposed to be your job, and yet you seem content to ignore one very important one.”

Apollo clenched his fists and relaxed them again. He had a feeling he knew where Edgeworth was going with this.

“The defendant claims he landed on his back, the bunk beds on top of him,” Edgeworth explained. “But the photograph of the crime scene shows him lying on his stomach!”

The judge blinked. “Oh! You’re quite right, Mr. Edgeworth.” He frowned at Apollo. “Mr. Justice! Can you explain this contradiction?”

Apollo folded his arms and smirked.

“It’s simple, Your Honour,” he replied. “Somebody moved the bodies before the photograph was taken. And the only people who had the opportunity to do so were the firefighters…and Warden Peace.”

The judge frowned. “That is a serious accusation, Mr. Justice,” he warned. “And in my view, one based on very flimsy evidence.”

Before Apollo could respond, Edgeworth cut in.

“Your Honour, the prosecution is prepared to call Warden Peace to the stand and quash these allegations once and for all.”

The judge thought for a few minutes, then nodded.

“Very well,” he replied. “We will take a short recess while you prepare your witness, Mr. Edgeworth.”

Edgeworth took a bow. “Thank you, Your Honour.”

The judge banged his gavel and the spectators in the gallery began to file out. Kristoph was escorted outside, almost sagging between the bailiffs. As Apollo prepared to leave, he looked up and caught Edgeworth’s eye. The older man held his gaze, and nodded once.

“Polly?” Trucy tugged at his sleeve.

Apollo looked at her and smiled. “He’s on our side.”

Chapter Text

May 21

Courtroom No. 3

11.03 AM

After a ten-minute recess, the court reconvened. (Edgeworth must’ve known what I was gonna do and arranged for the warden to be here,) Apollo thought. He looked across the courtroom and Edgeworth gazed back, a quiet smile on his face. Apollo hoped he hadn’t read the older man wrong.

The judge banged his gavel, silencing the low murmur from the gallery as Warden Peace took the stand. He was wearing the same suit he’d worn on the first day of the trial – made of dark material, and a little tight around his broad shoulders.

“The court will now hear testimony from the warden,” the judge declared. “I expect this to be our final witness…” He directed a stern look at Apollo. “…so I suggest you make your cross-examination count, Mr. Justice.”

Apollo gulped. “Yes, Your Honour.”

He glanced quickly at Kristoph, sitting in the dock. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to his client during the recess – Kristoph had been very insistent about his need for a bathroom break before court reconvened. Currently, he was staring at the warden with a look of pure hatred.

“Witness,” Edgeworth declared, jabbing a finger at the warden, “please state your name and occupation.”

“Stanford Peace,” the warden replied, a calm smile on his face. “I’m the warden at the State Penitentiary.”

“Warden,” Edgeworth began, pausing to clean his glasses, “my esteemed colleague at the defence bench alleges the crime scene was tampered with prior to being photographed by the firefighters.” Peace chuckled and Edgeworth cleared his throat sternly, indicating that he hadn’t finished. “Mr. Justice further maintains that you were the only person with the motive and opportunity to do such a thing.”

Peace turned that calm smile on Apollo. “Does he now?”

Edgeworth slipped his glasses back on. “The prosecution would like to hear your thoughts on this matter.”

“Of course,” Peace replied. “It’s like I said. I got to the cell and activated the release mechanism. I saw Armando and Gavin on the floor. I realised Armando was dead, so I went back downstairs and called the police.”

“And you did nothing else?” Edgeworth pressed. “You touched nothing in the cell?”

“No, I didn’t,” Peace answered irritably. “Look, what am I being accused of here?”

“Tampering with –” Edgeworth began, only for Peace to cut him off with, “Tampering how?”

Apollo eyed the warden carefully. (He’s fishing for information so he can craft a convincing lie.)

Edgeworth smirked, tapping his forehead with one finger. “I’ll let the defence fill you in,” he replied.

Peace seemed to calm down a little, and flashed another empty smile. “Well, at any rate, I had no reason to disturb anything at the crime scene,” he declared.

“Thank you,” Edgeworth said.

“That all sounds reasonable to me,” the judge remarked. He frowned at Apollo. “I warn you, Mr. Justice, if your intention is to influence the jurists with unfounded accusations, you will be harshly penalised. If you cannot provide any solid proof to back up your theories, I will direct the jurists to disregard them. Do you understand?”

Apollo nodded. “Perfectly, Your Honour.”

“You’d better watch your step, Polly,” Trucy warned.

“It’s okay,” Apollo murmured. He stared at the warden. “We can prove he told at least one lie just now. As for proving the other…” He swallowed and looked at Edgeworth again. “…that depends on him.”

The warden began to repeat his testimony.

“I got to the cell and activated the release mechanism. I saw Armando and Gavin on the floor. I realised Armando was dead, so I went back downstairs and called the police. I touched nothing in the cell.”

“Objection!”

The warden snapped his head around and stared at Apollo, a faint blush creeping onto his face.

“Mr. Peace,” Apollo declared, “a wise old judge once said, ‘When you tell the truth, you don’t have to have a good memory’.”

“Hmm!” the judge exclaimed. “I don’t seem to remember saying that, but it certainly does sound like something a wise old judge like me would say…”

Apollo slumped. (I wasn’t talking about *you*, you daft old coot!) He collected himself and continued. “You did touch something in the cell. We established this during your testimony on the first day of trial.”

The warden’s blush deepened as a look of recognition settled over his face. “The bunk beds. Yes, I moved them off the bodies.”

“I can see how you would forget,” Apollo continued, shuffling through his papers for a transcript of the warden’s earlier testimony. He handed copies to the bailiff for the judge and Edgeworth to look at. “After all, you forgot to mention that fact to the police during the investigation…”

“I – I can explain that,” Peace interrupted. He shrugged briefly. “When I saw the bodies on the floor, I lifted up the bunks and…well, it was so instinctive I never thought anything of it.” He flashed a sheepish smile. “And in my testimony just now…I guess I assumed Mr. Edgeworth was asking if I’d touched anything else in the cell.”

The judge frowned. “Witness, take more care when giving testimony from now on. After all, when you assume, you make…” His face took on its usual befuddled expression as he tried to remember the rest of the saying. “…you make a donkey… out of me!” He gave Peace a stern look. “And I don’t like that.”

Apollo slumped, spikes drooping over his forehead. (Why me?!)

“Well, at any rate,” Edgeworth said, cleaning his glasses again, “witness, kindly amend your testimony.”

“Yes, of course,” Peace replied. “I moved the bunk beds off the bodies, but touched nothing else. I had no reason to disturb anything else at the crime scene.”

“Objection!”

Apollo folded his arms and smirked.

“Mr. Peace, you say you touched nothing else at the crime scene, but the fact is, something other than the bunk beds was disturbed.”

“Objection!” Edgeworth snapped. “Justice, you still haven’t shown any proof to back up your wild theory –”

“Objection!” Apollo interrupted. “You didn’t let me finish.” He held up a video cassette. “Witness – do you recognise this?”

“Yes,” Peace replied. “It’s the surveillance tape from the security camera outside Gavin’s cell.” His frown deepened and he leaned forward on the stand slightly, his shoulders bulging in his too-tight jacket. “What’s the problem? I turned it over to the police myself, as soon as they arrived. They said it was blank!”

There was silence in the courtroom. Apollo smirked. The Judge blinked. Edgeworth’s gaze slid off to the side, a faint smile appearing on his face.

Peace glanced around the room, nervous and wary. “…What?”

“Mr. Peace, you’re right,” Apollo explained. “This tape is blank. And it is the tape that was given to the police. But it’s not the tape from the security camera. That tape…” He pointed to the VCR next to the judge’s bench. “…is right there.”

Peace clenched his fists on the bench, his face beginning to redden.

“It was found in the garbage by an anonymous source of mine,” Apollo continued. He tapped his forehead. “I wonder how it got there?”

“You find my prints on it?” Peace spat.

Apollo feigned surprise.

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” he replied. His expression hardened. “Yet. But I do wonder how the police wound up with the wrong surveillance tape.”

Peace froze for a moment, then broke into a sheepish grin.

“I, uh, I guess in all the confusion, I grabbed the wrong cassette,” he answered.

Apollo shook his head.

“I can’t accept that,” he replied. “Recall what you said only a few minutes ago – ‘I turned it over to the police myself. They said it was blank’.” He pointed a finger accusingly at the witness. “But the real cassette wasn’t blank! The camera recorded seventeen minutes of footage before the power to it was cut by the fire! If the police told you it was blank…surely you would have realised your mistake!”

“Objection!” Edgeworth interrupted. “What proof do you have that the witness knew the real cassette could not have been blank?”

Apollo folded his arms and smirked. “Simple. The warden was on duty in the surveillance room that night. And he didn’t leave that room until quarter past midnight to activate the release mechanism for the cells. If the police told him the cassette was blank, surely he would have realised that none of his monitors went dead during the time he was sitting there!”

The judge turned his attention to Warden Peace, who was glowering at Apollo. “Witness! Can you explain this?”

The warden gave Apollo one last, lingering stare, then straightened up. He tugged down on his jacket, and looked over at the prosecution bench.

“There are a lot of cameras,” he growled. “A lot of monitors. And at the time, there was a lot of excitement with the fire. So no, I wouldn’t necessarily have noticed that none of them went dead.”

“Objection!” Apollo countered. “I find it hard to believe you weren’t paying very careful attention to this particular monitor.”

The warden was glaring again. “Why’s that, son?”

“The point of having surveillance cameras is so staff can intervene if something happens,” Apollo explained. He held up Armando’s disciplinary record. “And given the victim’s erratic, violent behaviour, something was more likely to happen than not happen. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Objection!” Edgeworth interrupted. “What does this have to do with the missing surveillance tape?”

Peace smirked, adjusting his tie. “I’d like to know that myself.”

“So would I,” said the judge. “Mr. Justice?”

Apollo gulped. (Can’t lose sight of where I’m going with this.) “It doesn’t make sense, Your Honour.” He held up Armando’s psychiatric report. “The victim was classed as a danger to others by the prison psychologist – to the point where she recommended that he never have a cellmate.” He held up Armando’s disciplinary record again. “A mere two weeks before being placed in a cell with the defendant, Armando attacked another prisoner. In other words, there was no reason to believe he had stopped being dangerous.” Apollo folded his arms and smirked. “It’s incredible that the warden – whose job it is to make sure the men in his custody don’t kill each other – would not keep a very close eye on any live video feed from that cell. In fact…” Apollo pointed accusingly at the witness. “…it’s incredible that Gavin was placed with Armando to begin with!”

Peace was growling, knuckles white on the witness stand, shoulders straining the seams of his suit jacket.

“Mr. Justice,” the judge said, looking from Peace to Apollo and back again, “that’s all well and good, but what proof do you have that the witness interfered with the surveillance tape?”

Apollo clenched his fists on the bench. (I can’t prove that Peace got rid of the real surveillance tape. Got to turn this around and look at it from a different angle!)

“Your Honour,” Apollo answered, “the real tape was found in the prison trash. Therefore, someone took it from the surveillance room and disposed of it.” He produced the transcripts of the 911 calls made from the prison on the night of the murder. “The witness testified two days ago that he returned to the surveillance room at twelve thirty that night, at which time Jake Marshall called the police and told them about the murder. The police arrived approximately five minutes later. Only Marshall and Peace could have disposed of the surveillance tape and grabbed a blank one to turn over to the police.”

“Objection!” Edgeworth declared. “How do you know Marshall didn’t switch the tapes?”

Apollo took a deep breath and let it out.

“Because…the real tape doesn’t show anything incriminating.”

Edgeworth recoiled, the judge blinked, but the only reaction Apollo was interested in was that of the warden. Peace grabbed at the witness stand, his whole head turning red as he stared at Apollo incredulously.

“Mr. Justice, please explain what you mean!” the judge declared.

“The tape cuts off before Armando dies,” Apollo explained. “The only people it shows are Armando and Gavin. It doesn’t even show the fight. There was no reason for a third party to hide it.” He tapped his forehead. “That means…whoever got rid of it didn’t have time to watch it first.”

Edgeworth slammed his hand on the bench. “You mean…”

“Jake Marshall was alone in the surveillance room from approximately twelve fifteen until twelve thirty, when the warden returned and reported that Armando was murdered,” Apollo continued. “If he was worried about what was on the tape, he had plenty of time to review it. But when Warden Peace got back, the police were on their way – had been on their way since twelve fifteen, in fact, just in case the fire was really arson. He had no time to watch the tape over.”

“I’m getting pretty sick of this,” the warden blustered, sweat beginning to roll down his face. “What are you accusing me of, son?”

Apollo stared at him, clenching his fists on the bench. (Time to put it all together!)

“You tampered with the crime scene,” he declared, pointing accusingly at the warden. “You didn’t just move the bunks, you moved the bodies, too! All to frame Gavin for murder.”

“Objection!” Edgeworth interrupted. “This is yet another baseless –”

“You got some imagination, son,” Peace growled, ignoring Edgeworth. “Why the hell would I do something like that?”

“Because your first plan didn’t work,” Apollo shot back. He held up the sheet showing the prison guards’ new assignments. “Gavin had been a thorn in your side ever since he arrived! He got to the guards and he had other prisoners working for him. But you couldn’t touch him because he never got his hands dirty. So you deliberately put him in a cell with a prisoner with a history of violence, who only two weeks earlier had brutally attacked another inmate. And you hoped the problem would resolve itself!”

“Objection!” Edgeworth tried again. Apollo ignored him.

“But what you didn’t know was that somebody on your staff had finally given Armando the help he desperately needed. He was taking a mood stabiliser!” Apollo produced the toxicology report and Armando’s disciplinary record. “No more outbursts. No more violence. And then came the night of the fire. You found Armando dead in his cell, with Gavin and the bunks pinned on top of him. Your plan had failed. So you did the only thing you could…”

Apollo pointed dramatically across the room. “…you put the bunk beds back upright, and flipped Gavin’s body over so that it looked as if he’d killed Armando!”

The judge banged his gavel repeatedly and Edgeworth slammed his hand on the bench. “Damn it, Justice!”

Peace was scarlet and sweating, shoulders hunching in his jacket. Apollo pushed on, desperate to get his final words out before anyone stopped him.

“You couldn’t be sure what the tape showed and that’s why you had to get rid of it!” he shouted. “For all you knew, it was a perfect record of your crime!”

“Why the hell would I frame Gavin for murder?!” Peace yelled back. “He’s already serving a life sentence!”

“Because if he was convicted of killing another prisoner, he could have more years added to his sentence!” Apollo shouted. “He could be placed in solitary confinement! He might even be transferred to a higher security prison, far away from you!”

“That’s enough!” the Judge bellowed, rapping on the bench with his gavel.

“Thank you, Your Honour,” Edgeworth said crossly. “Witness, don’t say another word.” He adjusted his glasses. “Justice, this ridiculous hypothesis of yours seems to depend entirely on circumstantial evidence. Do you have any concrete proof that someone moved Gavin while he was unconscious?”

Apollo stared at the prosecutor. (This is it. My ace in the hole.)

“Mr Gavin!” he called out. Kristoph looked at him, startled. “Could you take your shirt off, please?”

A murmur ran around the gallery as a bailiff helped Kristoph to remove his shirt. It was followed by a collective gasp as the yellow and purple stripe running the length Kristoph’s chest was revealed.

“…!” The judge blinked in surprise. “…Mr. Justice! That’s…”

“A bruise, Your Honour,” Apollo replied. “A bruise caused when the bunk beds fell on the defendant on the night Armando died. Proof that Gavin was lying on his back when the beds fell…and not on his stomach, as the crime scene photograph shows.” He looked at the warden. “Proof that someone moved him between the time of his injury and the time the firefighters photographed the scene!”

“Ugh… grrr…” Peace clenched his fists, shoulders bulging. “…NNNNGGGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!”

There was a tearing sound as the seams in Peace’s ill-fitting jacket split at the shoulders. He slumped slightly on the witness stand, a look of pure malevolence on his face.

“You people,” he spat. “You goddamn bleeding heart reformers. And you!” He glared at Edgeworth. “You call yourself a prosecutor? You belong over there with them.”

“Witness –” the judge began, but was cut off.

“You think Gavin’s gonna be rehabilitated or sorry when he gets out?” Peace asked, jabbing a finger at Kristoph. “You think that he’ll be too old and clapped out to be a danger?” He swept the court with an accusing stare. “When he kills someone else his first week out of prison, you’ll wring your hands and cry about how the system failed. Well the system doesn’t fail - you failed the system! I did what I had to do, to keep that from happening!”

“And what about Diego Armando?” Apollo demanded. “Did you think about what would happen to him if he’d killed the defendant?”

“Armando was an animal!” Peace snapped, flecks of spit flying from his mouth.

“He was mentally ill!” a female voice rang out. Iris stood up in the gallery, visibly upset. “How could you use him like that? He didn’t want to hurt anybody!”

The judge banged his gavel repeatedly.

“Order! Order!” He frowned as silence descended on the courtroom again. “These are serious accusations and they require a full investigation. Bailiffs, place Mr. Peace in custody. Witness, you have the right to remain silent.”

Peace looked around him as two bailiffs took his arms and escorted him from the stand. “What…? This is funny. This is…” As they passed the defence bench, he suddenly lunged at Apollo. “You just made the worst mistake of your life, you snot-nosed little pissant!” The bailiffs wrestled him to the ground and handcuffed him before dragging him away, still shouting. “You’re gonna spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder!”

As the courtroom doors swung shut, the judge banged his gavel once. “The jurists will now vote on the outcome of this case. This court is in recess until they reach a conclusion.”

After only seven minutes, court was reconvened. Apollo took his place behind the defence bench, fists clenched.

“We the jurists find the defendant, Kristoph Gavin…

Not Guilty!”

Confetti rained down on the courtroom. Kristoph slumped in the dock, a look of relief on his face. Across the room, Edgeworth smirked as he gave his glasses one last polish. Apollo couldn’t stop a smile of triumph. He looked up at the gallery over the prosecution bench and saw Klavier lean back in his seat with a weary smile.

“It seems we’ve all learned something here today,” the judge declared. “We must judge each case individually, regardless of a defendant’s criminal record. And we must ensure that the men and women incarcerated in our prisons are treated fairly while they serve their sentences. There will be a full investigation into the events that have come to light as a result of this case.” He banged his gavel. “This court is adjourned!”

Chapter Text

May 21

Defendant Lobby No. 3

1.50 PM

There were several people waiting in the Defendant Lobby by the time Apollo and Trucy got out of the courtroom.

“Apollo, you did it!” Maya rushed forward and enveloped Apollo in a bone-crushing hug. “That was incredible! I wanted to channel Sis but then I would’ve missed it!” She released him and turned to Phoenix. “It was just like watching you, Nick!”

“I must admit, the similarities are striking,” someone cut in before Phoenix could reply. Iris and Pearl moved out of the way as Edgeworth entered the Lobby, Klavier following him. “The same carelessness, the same reckless disregard for courtroom procedure…”

“Hey!” Phoenix and Apollo shouted in unison. They stopped and looked at each other in surprise.

 Edgeworth smirked at Apollo and took a bow. “I underestimated you, Justice. You’re a worthy opponent.”

Apollo rubbed the back of his neck and glanced at Phoenix. “Yeah, well…I have a good teacher.”

Phoenix coughed awkwardly, hoping nobody would notice the slight blush colouring his cheeks. “So, Edgeworth…you planning to stick around?”

“Perhaps,” Edgeworth replied. He tilted his head and smirked slightly. “I would like to be involved in the investigation of the State Penitentiary, if my schedule allows it. This was supposed to be a brief visit, after all.”

“But you’ll come back soon, right, Edgeworth?” Maya asked. She put her hands on Apollo’s shoulders. “You just got beaten by a greenhorn! You can’t not have a rematch!”

Edgeworth began to reply, but the door to the lobby opened again. The laughter in the room ceased as Kristoph entered, escorted by prison officers.

“Justice,” he said in a half-whisper, his face nearly grey. “I…I thank you for…saving me.”

Apollo rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “…You’re welcome.” He shifted on his feet, and added, “It’s what I do.”

Kristoph flicked his tongue over his lips. “Is what you said in there…about Armando taking a mood stabiliser…is it true?”

Iris answered instead of Apollo. “It’s true,” she said. “He would never have hurt you.”

Kristoph gazed at her for a moment, then calmly leaned over and vomited into a trashcan. Klavier moved behind him and pulled his hair back from his face. Kristoph looked back at him in surprise once he had finished. The brothers gazed at each other for a few seconds before the guards pulled Kristoph back upright and led him out of the room.

There was an awkward silence for a few moments, until Maya broke it with,

“So am I the only one who didn’t just lose her appetite?”

Phoenix laughed. “Burgers?”

“You bet!” Maya replied, a mischievous look on her face. “Mr. Edgeworth’s paying!”

“Me?!” Edgeworth exclaimed.

“Losers pay!” Maya answered. “Right, Nick?”

“I gotta agree with Maya on this one, Miles,” Phoenix added.

“Then why aren’t you putting your hand in your pocket, Wright?” Edgeworth asked with a smirk.

Phoenix pantomimed being hit in the stomach. “Ooh, low blow!”

As the good-natured argument continued, Klavier moved towards Apollo.

“Forehead,” he began, and stopped, collecting his thoughts before continuing. “I can’t say I’m…happy right now.” He played with his bangs, a nervous grin on his face. “But you did remind me that the most important thing about being a lawyer is uncovering the truth.” He smiled – the first genuine smile Apollo had seen on Klavier’s face since the investigation began. “Thank you.”

“Hey you two!” Trucy shouted, pulling a camera and tripod from her magic panties. “Picture time!”

Everyone crowded in, Phoenix, Edgeworth and Klavier at the back, Maya, Apollo and Iris next, and Trucy and Pearl kneeling in front. They were only just in time before the flash went off.

After the photograph was developed – maybe it was a defect on the film or a trick of the eyes – Apollo swore there were two extra figures present, a man and a woman, standing together arm in arm.

*

“I still have things to do in Europe, Wright. But I’ll be back to battle Mr. Justice again. If you reconsider taking up your old profession…give me a call.”

*

“Since they took the warden to the county jail, there’s a new sheriff in town – yours truly. Looks like I owe you another favour, hombre.”

*

“And the new chief medical officer made me head nurse. I hear we’re getting a new psychologist too…although no-one seems to know his name.”

*

“Well, I’m out of here for a few months, Forehead. Mr. Edgeworth’s invited me to accompany him to Zheng Fa to study their judicial system. Watch Vongole for me, will you?”

*

“Can you believe this?! First the fop takes off to Asia, and then they throw some high-profile arson cases my way! I’m practically living in the crime lab! Life is sweet!”

*

“You’re coming to the reunion, aren’t you, Mr. Apollo?”

“Of course he is, Pearly! He’s part of the family! One of us, one of us!”

“We accept him, we accept him!”

(Just what am I becoming part of, exactly?!)

*

“NIIIIIICK! Edgy was in town and you didn’t tell meeeeeee? HOW COULD YOU?”

“…Larry, I haven’t seen you in forever! How was I supposed to tell you?”

“…That’s no excuse!”

“Yeah, Daddy! You have to work at friendships if you want them to last!”

“Yeah, Nick!”

“…Why me?”

???? ??

??????????

??:??

Hey kiddo,

I’ve been expecting you to call. First things first – you don’t have to worry about me. Mia’s here, she’s forgiven me, and that’s all I’ve wanted for the past eight years.

Second – tell Trite there was no murder. I was trying to get Gavin down on the floor away from the smoke. He wouldn’t co-operate. Can’t say I blame him – I spent six weeks making sure he was good and scared of me. Anyway, I pulled him, the bunks toppled over, I wound up cracking my head open. No one’s fault but mine. Ha…! Guess I never did learn not to take the law into my own hands.

Take care of yourself, kid. I don’t want to see you till you’re an old lady, you hear me?

All my love,

Diego

The End.