Every
morning at
“You don’t have a clue, and you want to use me as a guinea pig for research?” Chancellor rephrased.
The psychologist winced at the bluntness of the statement and admitted, “well, yes, that’s about right.”
Chancellor bluntly, yet politely, declined. He already knew why looking into the mirror caused him to remember things. It was the shock of seeing, day after day, that he had a woman’s face. And a darn beautiful one at that.
He’d had it as long as he could remember; which meant that he’d had a woman’s face for at least ten years of his life. After waking up from a coma screaming ‘OBJECTION!’ at the top of his lungs (scaring the nurse attending to him half to death) the doctor came in and explained that, upon Chancellor’s arrival to the hospital one year previously, the damage to his face had been extremely severe, and the only chance that Chance had had of living was to undergo emergency facial reconstruction surgery. Unfortunately, the only photo the surgeon had had to use for the surgery was a picture of a wallet model that, miraculously, had been the only thing that had survived inside Chancellor’s wallet. The doctor said he was very sorry.
As to why having a girl’s face reminded him of anything, Chancellor was clueless. He chalked it up to the idea that his face, being the chief woman in his life, somehow subconsciously nagged him every time it saw him. He didn’t like being nagged, which was why he only looked into a mirror when he absolutely had to. Consequently, no one had ever called him vain.
Nevertheless, the nagging did save his skin quite often, and Chancellor knew that he’d be lost without his face to keep him in line. Today, for instance, she reminded him of something that, quite literally, knocked him off his feet. Your first trial is in half an hour, Chancy! He didn’t bother wondering why she always called him Chancy; he had more important things to worry about.
He gasped, picked himself up off the floor, and ran frantically around his apartment. He grabbed papers, files, and breakfast, and hurriedly stuffed them into his briefcase. He stopped, thought for a moment, and then went into the kitchen, grabbed a spoon, and quickly shoveled the oatmeal out of his briefcase and into his mouth. He ran back to the mirror, quickly brushed his teeth, ran a hand through his shoulder-length snow white hair to give it a smexy, unkempt look, and slapped on a yellow dress shirt with torn off sleeves and black suit pants, topping the whole ensemble with a blue sweater jacket, which he left unzipped. He surveyed himself for a moment with his hazel eyes. You look terrible said his face. “I look damn good for only five minutes worth of prep time,” he said aloud. He ran back to the kitchen, reached into the fridge, and pulled out his daily chocolate-covered strawberry. He wanted to take his usual ten minutes to savor it, but there was no time. He frowned and swallowed it down whole.
He rushed out the door. As he ran out into his apartment complex’s hallway, he caught a glimpse of himself in the doorknob, and gasped again. He stuck his hand in the closing door and swore loudly when it smashed his fingers, but did not close. He rushed back inside the apartment and stopped to catch his breath for the first time. Slowly, he lifted a large tire chain hanging on his bedpost and draped it over his neck. There was no way in hell he was leaving without that.
-District Courthouse, Defendant’s
Lobby
Chancellor burst through the double doors of the defendant’s lobby, and was greeted by a stern look from a man with neatly combed, grey hair and wrinkles that framed his face in a state of perpetual worry. Despite these features, the rest of his body suggested he was much younger then his forty-nine years; young enough to be Chancellor’s brother, even.
“Mr. Thenue!” Chancellor managed through short, gasping breaths, “I’m sorry I’m late, I overslept, I poured oatmeal in my briefcase… I didn’t even take time to enjoy my strawberry!” Chancellor gestured dramatically. The last part was, of course, the most important detail, and the one that he thought would inspire the most pity.
“You shouldn’t apologize to me” the man said solemnly “you should apologize to your client.”
“Oh, alright then…” Chancellor began “I’ll just…”
“Of course you should apologize to me!” Thenue snapped, causing the young attorney to jump back in fright, “You’ve put the entire reputation of Thenue and Noble law offices on the line with your lackadaisical approach to life and your rash irresponsibility! Why if this wasn’t your first trial, you’d be out on the street like this!” He snapped his fingers dramatically.
“Yes sir, I’m sorry sir, I…”
“I’m not finished!” Thenue continued, “I had to go into that courtroom and request a half hour extension just to cover up for your folly! Me! Morage Thenue! In the twenty-five years I’ve worked in law, I’ve never had to ask for an extension for anyone, especially when the trial hasn’t even started!”
“And the office’s track record is all the worse because of it” Chancellor muttered under his breath.
“Don’t think that just because I’m late-middle-aged I can’t hear your snide remarks!” Morage yelled.
“Look, I’m sorry, ok?” Chancellor shouted defensively. “Yelling at me won’t solve anything, it might even make me do worse!”
Morage Thenue stiffened up, outraged by this insubordinate retaliation. “IF YOU LOSE TODAY, YOU’RE FIRED!” he bellowed so that those outside the courthouse, nay, outside the boundaries of the city, could here. He stormed out of the lobby, slamming the doors behind him. Quite hard, actually, seeing as they each weighed roughly two hundred pounds.
Chancellor placed his head in his hand and sighed, shaking visibly. I really need to watch what I say under pressure he thought it’s going to get me in trouble one of these days… like today… and yesterday… and the day before that.
“It’s nice to see my lawyers have such a healthy relationship” came a voice from the other side of the room.
The young defense attorney whipped around quickly, nearly having a heart attack at the familiar sounding voice. “You…” he stuttered, “You saw all of that?”
The speaker, an old, yet healthy looking man with brown, parted hair that happened to be Chancellor’s client, laughed. “Don’t get your intestines tied in a knot” he soothed “I believe in you, Chance.”
Chancellor laughed nervously, blushing slightly. “You know… you’re supposed to be the one worrying, and I’m supposed to be the one that comforts you, Dad.”
Chancellor’s client, Thompson Moore, was an ace physician at St. Maladie General Hospital who specialized in nephrology. Although he was unmarried and had never considered having a family, he found himself, for some reason or another, adopting Chance when it was found that Chancellor’s past had been all but erased. “Why should I be worried?” he laughed, patting his son on the back, “after all, I’m innocent!”
“Yeah…” Chancellor agreed, “I guess you’re right!” If only it looked that way… He smiled, trying to convince his father that everything would be ok. But even he didn’t believe that entirely.
-District Courthouse, Courtroom 12,
“All rise!” came the Bailiff’s cry. The defense attorney, prosecutor, defendant, witnesses, and people who didn’t really have to be there but had nothing better to do with their lives, quickly stood. The judge, a young, blonde man in his late twenties, entered the courtroom, fiddling with his robes with one hand and impersonating Queen Elizabeth’s wave with the other. The courtroom chuckled slightly. The bailiff cringed. “The honorable, if not somewhat unconventional, Judge Scotty presiding.”
Judge
Scotty, despite his previous attempt at humor, ran strictly by the book. “You may be seated,” he said in a stern
voice. The courtroom was seated (ooh
boy, isn’t that
redundant). “Very well then, Case Number
4276-C,
Prosecutor Krasivaya
(pronounced Kra-see-vai-ya) smirked slightly.
Born and raised in
“Guilty.”
She spoke aloud. “When the dust settles,
when the muddy waters stirred by the attorney over there clear, when every
piece of evidence and every fragment of testimony has been picked apart like a
badly stuffed carnival toy in the mouth of a dog … that will be the verdict
that Mr. Moore receives. It is the only
conclusion that can be drawn.”
Judge Scotty nodded
politely. “Thank you Ms. Krasivaya” he
said. “Ms. Moore, can you top that?”
Chancellor’s tightened
his fist and took a deep breath. He hated it when people mistook him for a woman. Oh
c’mon! Scotty doesn’t know I’m a
man? You have paperwork, you’re honor!
“Get on with it
already” ordered Krasivaya, playing with her hair and clearly annoyed. “This is a trial, not a Girl Scout meeting, it’s not going to be all hugs and
cookies.”
Something inside Chancellor snapped. “First of all” he began, his deep and clearly
masculine voice causing Scotty and Krasivaya to jump, “I happen to like Girl Scout cookies, and I think our legal system would be one heck of
a lot better if it was built on them instead of the law. Secondly,
while I’m afraid I didn’t spend all of last night creating a…poetic witness statement…”
BOЗPAЖEHИE! (This is Russian for ‘Objection’.
It is pronounced ‘Voz-ra-zhen-yeh’)
“Your honor!” demanded
Krasivaya “The defense should refrain from attacks on the prosecution!”
“It’s only an attack
on you if what he said is actually true, Ms. Krasivaya” Judge Scotty noted, eying
Krasivaya with amusement.
The prosecutor shifted
uncomfortably, the muttered, “defense will continue its opening statement.”
Chancellor continued;
his confidence boosted slightly. “Now, I
may not have as eloquent a speech as the pretty prosecutor over
there, but there is one thing I do have.”
He struck his ‘objection’ pose, with his arm fully outstretched, his
pointer and middle finger both pointing at Krasivaya, and his thumb curled
under those fingers slightly. He took a
deep breath. “The
truth.” He glared at Krasivaya
for a moment with a feigned look of pure hatred. Then he smiled and winked at her. Krasivaya opened her mouth to object, but
Chancellor continued to speak. “The
defense pleads ‘Not Guilty’ your honor, and we seek to prove this plea in its
totality.”
The judge nodded
curtly. “Very well
then. At this time, we will call
the first witness.”
Chancellor had won the
toss backstage, so he was the one who got to call the first witness.
“The defense calls Mr.
Thompson Moore to the stand” he said.
Thompson Moore took the stand.
He drummed his fingers impatiently, as if waiting to be proven innocent.
“Mr. Moore” prompted
Chancellor. “Would you kindly recount
what happened that night? Perhaps we can
end this trial early, and move on to more interesting things…” he winked at
Krasivaya again. She looked at him with
disgust, but he didn’t mind. He had only
done it to screw with her (as in get a reaction from!) anyway.
“Alright then, Chance”
nodded Thompson. “Here’s my synopsis of
that evening.”
“I was driving home
from the hospital down Uccisore Turnpike at around
“Thank you, Mr. Moore”
said Chancellor. He turned to Judge
Scotty. “What more is there to say, your
honor? The victim was alive when last my
client saw him. Open and shut.”
BOЗPAЖEHИE!
“Ms.
Moore!” exclaimed Krasivaya,
purely to screw with Chancellor. “Are
you honestly expecting this court to find the defendant
innocent based entirely on his own
testimony? Tell me again, how exactly can I find this
jaded, naïve fantasy world you live in?
It seems like a very pleasant place for holiday.”
“It’s quite simple
really” explained Chancellor. “You
follow the yellow brick road, then take a right at GO, but don’t collect
$200, then when you reach Neverland…”
“Who answers that kind of question?” blanched Krasivaya.
“Answer a stupid
question with a stupid response, and the asker will realize she’s not as smart
as she thinks” quoted Chance. “That’s in
the Bible.”
BANG! BANG!
“ORDEEEEEER UUUUUUP!” yelled Scotty. “If we could get back to the trial please? You can save your bickering for later!”
Krasivaya glared at
Huh? Thought Chance. That’s
either really good or…
“At this time, the
prosecution would like to call a witness” Krasivaya pointed at Thompson
accusingly “a witness who can
prove that this man is nothing but a liar and a murderer!”
…or a one-way ticket on a
southbound express train.
Judge Scotty sighed. “Always
with the dramatics, you lawyers… fine.
You may call your witness, Ms. Krasivaya.”
“The prosecution calls the detective in
charge of this case, Mr. Tracy Spade, to the stand.”
Tracy Spade was a
broad shouldered, slightly overweight man who always wore a Sherlock
Holmes-style hat to ‘enhance his perceptive abilities’. He had a pronounced chin, and the right side
of his face (and only the right side) had a Five O’clock shadow. His voice was low and gravelly like a
bulldog’s bark, and often scared criminals and other unsuspecting people out of
their wits.
“Your name and
occupation, Mr. Spade, purely for formality’s sake” Krasivaya instructed.
“Tracy Spade! Homicide Detective!”
Spade barked. Chancellor jumped, scared
out of his wits.
“Mr. Spade” Krasivaya
continued, trying to keep herself from smiling,
“please explain to the court the details of your investigation.”
“YES MA’AM!”
“The incident, from
what the autopsy suggests, took place yesterday at around
♪‘OBJECTION!’♫
came a perfect B-flat from the defense’s bench.
“Must you sing, son?”
asked Thompson, cradling his head in his hands, embarrassed.
Chancellor
nodded. “When I object, I’m happy. When I’m happy, I sing. You know that.”
“’Objection’ usually
has a negative connotation,” replied Thompson.
Scotty cleared his
throat; drawing the two
“Oh, yes your
honor. I’d merely like to note that a
scalpel does not necessarily have to be held, used, or owned by a
surgeon. I move that the word be
stricken from the record.”
“Duly
noted” affirmed Judge Scotty, tapping his gavel lightly on the desk. “Mr. Spade, you will refrain from using such
modifiers unless they are completely based in factual evidence, understood?”
Spade sprung to a
salute again. “YES SIR!”
At the prosecution’s
bench, Krasivaya smiled slightly. So you caught that, huh Mr. Moore? And I was even ‘stretching’ when that word
came up too… She flicked her hair back and acted
annoyed. “Pointless drivel” she
commented. “Mr. Spade, continue with
your briefing.”
Spade nodded furiously
and continued to speak. “Alright, so Mr.
Revadac was found with a plain old, ordinary scalpel sticking out of his back. The scalpel in question was imprinted with
the words ‘
♪‘OBJECTION!’♫
in C-Sharp.
“That’s purely an
opinion your honor!” interjected Chancellor, almost giddy with the way the word
‘objection’ rolled off his tongue.
Spade, however, was
not as giddy. “What?” he balked. “What do you mean? How is blood under the victim’s fingernails not decisive evidence?”
Cut to a ‘murmur
murmur’ scene.
Bang! Bang! Bang! rang the gavel.
“OOOOORDEEEEEEEER UUUUUUP!” yelled Scotty. “Mr. Spade, are you telling us that the
defendant’s blood…”
“Yes sir” nodded
Spade. The blood sample taken from under
Mr. Revadac’s fingernails matched Thompson Moore’s blood work.” Spade grinned. “Now think about it! Mr. Moore attacks Mr. Revadac, and Mr. Revadac
fights back! The victim gouges the defendant during the struggle, and that’s
where the blood comes from!”
“Decisive indeed!” mused
Scotty.
Krasivaya laughed
internally, smoothing her black dress with her perfectly manicured hands. Too
easy, she thought to herself.
“Does the defense have
anything they’d like to offer?” asked the judge.
“In fact I do, your
honor,” remarked Chancellor, sweating slightly under pressure. “While the defense is willing to concede that
is unusual for such a thing to occur, in Mr. Moore’s
case, it is not so. You see, Mr. Moore
is a kidney surgeon! It is quite
possible that Mr. Moore operated on Mr. Revadac recently, and a small portion
of the latter’s blood made its way under the former’s fingernails!” Chance slammed his fist on the table for
effect. “The prosecution has proven NOTHING!” He grinned, confident that he
has just turned the whole case around.
Krasivaya stared
blankly at Chancellor. “Mr. Moore…” she
said flirtatiously “that was almost… cute.”
She batted her eyelids seductively.
Chancellor reddened,
and scratched his ear absent-mindedly.
“Oh, c’mon, it was nothing…”
“To be able to mix up
such a vital detail in such an important situation,” she flashed a phony,
pitiful smile at him. “It’s like a
little boy mixing up the words to his favorite song. Tell me, did you try to do that? I honestly can’t see you being that… oh what’s the word in English… stupid.”
“Um….” Chancellor
faltered. “Um?”
He scratched his head, sincerely confused.
Judge Scotty shook his
head, unbelieving. “I think Ms.
Krasivaya is referring to the fact that the defendant’s blood was
found under the victim’s fingernails, not the other way around.”
Chancellor stared
ahead blankly. “Oh…” he finally said,
“really?” He flashed a wide smile and
sweat dropped. The rest of the court
just murmured, not believing the stupidity of the attorney.
Thompson, despite the
fact that his own lawyer had just messed up grandly, laughed it off. “I knew taking you as my attorney would be a
bit Chancy…” he said with a grin.
“Mr. Moore?” asked
Scotty warily. “Are you sure you’re up
for this? That kind of error just isn’t…
acceptable.”
“Give me another
Chance your honor!” begged Chance. “It’s
just an endearing personality trait, that’s all!”
Scotty eyed Chancellor
carefully. “Very well… I suppose you may
have another Chance, Mr. Moore. What are
your thoughts on this evidence?”
“I think there’s a
very good explanation for it, your honor!” Chancellor declared; his chest
puffed up with pride. The entire
courtroom turned to look at him, waiting.
“There was the… um… and the…”
“Don’t fight it”
whispered Krasivaya, running a hand up her arm and sighing gently. “Be a real woman… and accept your
defeat.” She turned her head to the side
slowly, taking slow, shaky breaths.
Ack!
So distracting… I can hardly fight back!… …
wait a minute…
“THAT’S IT!” sang
Chancellor, smashing the desk beneath him.
“I’m assuming that was
a ‘you’re absolutely right, I’m going to give up now’ ‘that’s it’, correct?”
asked Krasivaya.
“AS IF!” snapped
Chancellor, catching Krasivaya off guard.
“There’s a fatal flaw in that explanation! It is made under the assumption that the
victim was fighting back!”
Chancellor pointed dramatically.
“But the victim was drunk to the point of passing out that night! Even the autopsy report suggests such! He
could not fight back!” Chancellor pointed to Spade accusingly. “You say that my client was fighting the
victim? That is impossible! Mr. Revadac could not have fought back!”
Chancellor looked over at his opponent, and
was shocked to see her remaining perfectly calm. Why, if he didn’t know better, he’d have
sworn she was… he didn’t know better.
She was laughing.
“Ms. Moore…” she
laughed “that… wasn’t half bad!” She
smiled. “You’ve destroyed any hopes of
getting a ‘justified self defense’ plea, you must feel proud of yourself.” She flicked her hair back. “Mr. Spade” she ordered. “I think it’s time we finished this… present
the last piece of evidence, now!” She
could hardly contain her pride.
Chancellor just stood
there. Oh yeah… I guess I did just do that, huh… He
smacked his head on the bench. Damn it Krasivaya! Why do you have to be so distracting?
Spade reached into his
pocket and pulled out a videotape. “This
is a security camera recording from the tollbooths at Uccisore Turnpike exits 1
and 12. The victim’s body was found on the
stretch of road between these two exits, and there are no other booths or
turnoffs between the two. From what the
tapes suggest, the only car that passed through the booth that night was that
of Thompson Moore’s… and the victim can clearly be seen inside Mr. Moore’s
car.” The detective nodded to the
bailiff, who brought out a VCR and television set. The tape showed the area of road in front of
tollbooth one. “As you can see here, at
around
“Thank you, Officer
Spade” nodded Krasivaya. “You had quite
a long paragraph to speak, is your voice scratchy at all?”
“Actually, it is”
Spade replied “but lucky for me, it doesn’t sound any different!”
You call that being lucky? Thought Chance.
“Hey
“Gee, thanks your
honor,” remarked Chancellor sarcastically.
“I’m a complete moron… so I didn’t know what to do next.”
“Well it’s about time
you admitted it” shot Krasivaya before Scotty could protest. Scotty smiled, and Chancellor laughed
nervously, ruffling his hair. Idiot. I
set myself up for that one, didn’t I? Oh
yeah… and the whole… I shouldn’t disrespect people… thing.
“I’m sorry your honor,
I’ll cross-examine now” apologized Chance.
He turned towards the witness stand.
“Mr. Spade… allow me to clarify, these tapes show only the area in front
of the booth? As in
where the cars drive by?”
“Yes,” answered
Spade. “Well… it also shows a little bit
to the right and left, but there’s nothing of importance there.”
“True enough,”
admitted Chance. “So you have no footage
of any areas other than this, correct?”
“That’s right.”
“So… if someone were
to walk around the booth, or not pass it at all, they
wouldn’t show up on the camera?”
“Well… no…” Spade
admitted. “But here’s the thing… the
only way onto the turnpike is through there… in case you don’t know, the
turnpike is entirely elevated off the ground, and the entrances are extremely
narrow.”
“Oh…” mused Chancellor. Drat! “Well, to save me from asking
any more questions, what can’t be seen on the camera?”
“Not much actually”
clarified Spade, eyes rolling up into his head as he thought the question
over. “I guess… you can’t see inside the
booth itself, and you can’t see…”
BOЗPAЖEHИE!
“Your honor!” interjected Krasivaya. “This entire line of questioning is yielding
nothing but a momentous waste of time!”
She shook her head dramatically, allowing her hair to whip back and
forth. “I motion that it be dropped
immediately on grounds of irrelevance!”
♪‘OBJECTION!’♫
in the form of an F-chord.
“Your honor, my
purpose here is to make absolutely sure that Ms. Krasivaya’s evidence is as decisive as she claims. If there is any
reason to assume a person could get around the camera, then there is room for
doubt in this case!”
Scotty nodded in
agreement. “Your objection is overruled,
Ms. Krasivaya. You may continue, Mr.
Moore.”
BOЗPAЖEHИE!
“What
do you mean my objection is overruled?” Krasivaya whined. “I… I don’t
get overruled, your honor! I… no… what?” Her
voice cracked, she gave an unbelieving sigh, and tears began to swell up in her
eyes.
“Oh, c’mon!” objected
Chance. “Don’t even think you’re going to get me to take my question back by acting cute, I’m not buying it!”
Krasivaya looked at
him, grinned, and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Fine. But I’m warning you…” she licked her lips “…
things are going to get dirty from here on out… Mr.
Moore.”
Good gravy!
There’s nothing more dangerous than a woman who’s beautiful… and knows
it! Chancellor smiled. “As you wish” he replied. He turned back to Detective Spade. “Mr. Spade, if you could complete your
answer?”
Detective Spade looked
frantically at Krasivaya. She nodded
slightly, and he continued. “I was going
to say that… you can’t see inside the booth itself… or in the small space
behind it, where the employees park their cars.”
Chancellor’s eyes
widened. “So basically, what you’re
saying… is that if someone were to drive by that way, or walk by that way… the
camera wouldn’t catch it?”
Detective Spade was
silent for a moment. Then he looked
down, disappointed. “I… yes, that’s
about right.”
Chancellor flashed a
big, toothy smile, and gave a soft ‘ha!’ of triumph. “Your honor, I think that casts more than enough doubt on the evidence.”
“Absolutely right, Mr.
Moore” Scotty agreed. “However, knowing
Ms. Krasivaya like I do, I’m sure she has the necessary witnesses to back up
her case.”
Krasivaya nodded
appreciatively. “You are correct, your
honor. While I was, indeed, hoping that
this evidence would be sufficient enough to close this case, I have also
prepared for the two tollbooth-operators to testify. Do you have any other questions, Mr. Moore?”
Chancellor shook his
head, allowing his white hair to shift about freely. “None at all, beautiful.”
Krasivaya almost
blushed, but managed to maintain her composure.
“Very well then. The prosecution would like to call its next
witness to the stand.”
“Before we do that,”
Scotty interrupted, “my legs are getting a bit cramped from sitting in this
chair, so I’d like to propose that the court take a twenty-minute recess. Any objections?”
There were no objections. “All
right then!” Scotty beamed. “This court is adjourned!” He banged his gavel, and the courtroom dismissed.
-District Courthouse, Defendant’s
Lobby
“Doing good,
Chance, doing good!” Thompson exclaimed, wrapping his son in a bear hug.
“Dad…” Chancellor blushed, embarrassed,
“stop it… it’s far from over.”
Chancellor paused, thinking. I wish I had a chocolate strawberry right
now… He glanced down at his chain, saw his
reflection, and remembered what he had wanted to do next. “Hey Dad!” prodded
Chancellor. “I was wondering…”
“Krasivaya?” asked Thompson, a knowing look in his eye. “I don’t know son. I suppose she’s only doing her job… she could be a nice girl underneath…”
“I WASN’T ASKING ABOUT THAT!” Chancellor
protested, blushing. “It’s just… we
didn’t get to talk much before the trial started… I was wondering if there was
anything you think might be important for me to know.”
Thompson scratched his chin, thinking. “Well… there is one thing…”
“Yes?” Chancellor’s eyes widened,
and he began to bounce up and down on the balls of his feet.
“It’s just… everyone keeps saying there was
only one car on the turnpike that night…” Thompson
frowned. “But I could have sworn I saw
another one!”
“WHAAAAT?” Chancellor was knocked off his feet. “That’s
the kind of thing you tell me earlier, Father!” He picked himself up. “Did you see what kind of car it was?”
Thompson smiled. “I do actually, it was a beaut of car, it was. A nice, shiny, solid green Corvette.”
Huh… thought Chancellor. I didn’t even think they made green Corvettes…
BANG! The door was kicked down, and a young man
burst into the room. His bright red hair
was more unkempt than Chance’s, his suit had clearly been pieced together from
thrift stores and pawn shops, and not even his socks matched. Chancellor smiled. “Ricky!”
He ran over to the young man, clapping him on the back.
“That’s Ricardo
Writchard, private eye, to you Ma’am” Ricky joked, slapping Chance on the
back as well. They had been friends ever
since Chancellor had moved in with Thompson.
“And boy, are you going to be glad I came.” He handed Chancellor a file marked ‘
Chance gave Ricky a
puzzled look. He looked down at his
chain, gasped, flipped through the file quickly, and smiled a broad smile. “YES!” he screamed, wrapping Ricky in a
hug. “I thought I’d heard that
name before! You’ve done great Ricky!”
“No big deal” blew off
Ricky. “Anything else you need?”
“Actually…” Chance
said, looking at his reflection. “Could
you compile a list of green Corvettes in the area, and who owns them?”
Writchard
frowned. “Do they even make green Corvettes?”
Chancellor
laughed. “That’s exactly what I
thought! But still, it’s important.”
Ricky sighed. “I suppose I could see what I can dig up…”
His face lit up, as though just remembering something. “Oh! Here!”
He pulled a box out from his pocket.
Chancellor licked his
lips. “If that’s what I think it is…”
Ricky nodded. He lifted the lid off the box slowly,
revealing a ridiculously huge chocolate-covered strawberry, nestled with care
amongst fine paper wrappings.
Chance was
overcome. In his mind, a choir of angels
began singing. He gasped of breath,
reaching his shaking hands slowly into the box, and dropping the delectable
delight into his mouth. “MMMMM…” he
hummed. Ricky took a small bow and
left. For the rest of the time, Chance
just stood there, savoring every moment.
- District Courthouse, Courtroom 12,
BANG! “The courtroom will now place its order!”
Judge Scotty bellowed. “I’ve stretched
sufficiently, so we’ll continue where we left off. The prosecution will call its next witness!”
The witness who took
the stand next was a young boy, maybe seventeen or eighteen years of age. His hair was dyed a shocking shade of green,
and it was done up in Liberty Spikes. He
wore a black sleeveless shirt and ripped jeans, and wore a chain around his
neck.
He looked at
Chancellor. “Wow!” he exclaimed in a
high-pitched voice while fiddling with his over-sized glasses. “Your chain is totally hardcore man! I mean, seriously! It’s like five times the size of mine! Seriously, where’d you get it?”
Chancellor was caught
off guard by the question, but maintained his composure. “Well… I…” he paused, then
laughed. “I actually don’t remember
where I got it. I’ve been told it’s a
tire chain for a monster truck, though.”
“Seriously?” the teen
blanched. “That’s cool dude, seriously!”
“AHEM!” Krasivaya
cleared he throat, and the squeaky-voiced teen jumped. “You will give your name and occupation to
the court, and you will cease giving Mr. Moore the
false impression that people care about his life.”
“Don’t mind her”
Chancellor comforted. “She’s just upset
because I’m not drooling over her like some love-struck imbecile. You’re perfectly in line.”
The Russian prosecutor
winced. “In your dreams maybe,
The witness
laughed. He ran his hand through his
spikes. “My name is Liam Sirius, and I
work the tollbooth at exit 12 of Uccisore Turnpike. And, seriously, you two look like you’re
about to tear each other’s heads off… or suddenly run towards each other and…”
“It’s the former, I
assure you” Krasivaya interrupted.
“For once, I agree”
nodded Chance.
Liam laughed. “Oh sure, you guys say that now but, seriously, deep down I’m sure…”
♪‘OBJECTION!’♫
sung in A major.
“Mr. Sirius!”
Chancellor insisted. “If
you could start your testimony, please?
I’d like to finish this thing before lunch!”
“You mean you’ll stay
as long as it take to get me proven innocent, right
son?” asked Thompson, only slightly concerned.
Chancellor paused for
a moment, as if lost in thought. “Nah”
he dismissed “it’s definitely the ‘before lunch’ thing.”
Krasivaya chuckled
slightly, and Liam began his testimony.
“Well let’s see…I was working my shift at tollbooth 12. It was seriously raining until about
“Thank you, Mr.
Sirius” said Scotty, pondering the information carefully. “Mr. Moore?
If you have questions, you may ask them now.”
“Thank you, your
honor.” Chancellor tipped his head towards the judge. I’ve
got this one! I’ll catch him in his lie
and break him! “Mr. Sirius, you work at tollbooth 12,
correct?”
“Yup” replied the
witness.
“And you also claim
that the defendant gave you his
ticket?” He glared at Liam.
Liam looked
confused. “Well, yeah! I mean, seriously!”
♪‘OBJECTION!’♫
sung as D minor arpeggio.
“Are you serious, Sirius?”
Accused Chance, smiling inside at the pun he’d made. “If what you claim is true, then the facts of
this case are the exact opposite of what has been presented! As we all know, a driver hands in his ticket
at the end of a drive on the turnpike, yet tollbooth
twelve was the beginning of Mr. Moore’s trip!”
“You wouldn’t have seen him at all!!!!” He
stood there, arm outstretched.
Silence.
“Um… Mr. Moore?”
ventured Krasivaya.
“Go on” Chance said
shamelessly, basking in his own glory.
“Go on and admit that my client is innocent, it’s OK.”
“AS
IF!” Krasivaya snapped, catching Chance off guard. “I just figured you ought to know that you
mixed things up… again.” She dipped her head to hide a slowly forming
smile. “And for its worth, it was
somewhat cute… again.”
“Oh!” Chancellor jolted out of his ‘basking in
glory’ pose (an arm reaching up towards the heavens with the other planted
firmly on his waist). He looked through
the files in his briefcase. “Oh… you’re
right,” he admitted. “I’m sorry… the
oatmeal made the numbers run together, I thought that was a ‘one’…”
“Oatmeal?” asked
Thompson, his face lighting up with curiosity.
“I’ll tell you later,
Dad” Chance whispered. “Ok…” he
addressed Liam. “I’m sorry about that… I
hope I didn’t scare you.”
“You seriously almost
gave me a heart attack, dude!” he screeched.
“Why, if I didn’t know better, I seriously would’ve suspected myself of
being the real killer, seriously!” He
wiped his glasses free of sweat.
“Again, I’m sorry…
let’s continue… Are you absolutely sure that Mr. Moore was the man you saw that
night?”
“Absotivly, posilutely
sure” nodded Liam.
“Why are you so sure?”
“He rolled down his
window, so I got a seriously good look at his face.”
“But didn’t you say it
was raining that night?” Chancellor
tensed, ready to pounce.
“I also said that it had stopped raining at around
“Ah, yes, you’re
right…” Chancellor grumbled. “And you’re
absolutely sure that the vehicle was the same as well?”
“Well, it had the same
driver, so yeah.”
“I asked about the vehicle, not the drive, witness.”
Chancellor glared.
“Oh,
seriously? All right then… yeah,
it was seriously the same vehicle as the one they showed be in the tape… I
remember it seriously well, because I’ve kind of got a thing for nice, shiny
cars.”
Chancellor felt a tug
at the back of his mind. “You said… that
you like shiny cars?”
“Yup! I mean seriously, there’s nothing better than
seeing a seriously clean, sparkly ride pull up to a window!”
♪‘OBJECTION!’♫
sung in triplets.
“Mr. Liam, you
probably don’t realize this…”
“But you’re testimony just now causes a very
disturbing contradiction!”
BOЗPAЖEHИE!
“There is no
contradiction here!” Krasivaya
insisted. “Whether or not there is
anything better than a sparkling car pulling up next to you is entirely a
matter of opinion!”
Chancellor looked
down, disappointed. “Oh… I suppose
you’re right…”
Krasivaya smiled. “It’s alright… it’s actually quite amusing…”
♪‘OBJECTION!’♫
sung as a tri-tone.
“Do you really think that little of me?” balked Chance. “Of course I’m not objecting to that!”
“Then what are you
objecting to, Mr. Moore?” asked Scotty.
“Oh? Scotty doesn’t know?” asked Chancellor. “I’ll be happy to explain, your honor. You see, Mr. Sirius has just testified that
the car that pulled up to his booth was clean and sparkling! However, if you recall the security tape from
earlier, Mr. Moore’s car was dirty
and grungy when he first entered
the turnpike!”
“A clear contradiction!”
BOЗPAЖEHИE!
“The witness’ statement is perfectly valid!”
protested Krasivaya. “Whether or not a
car is sparkly and clean or not is another matter of opinion! One man’s ‘dirty’ may very well be another
man’s ‘spotless’!”
♪‘OBJECTION!’♫
sung in quarter notes.
“But the security tape
also suggests that Mr. Moore’s car became cleaner! Opinion aside, dirt was removed from Mr.
Moore’s car during his drive on Uccisore turnpike!”
BOЗPAЖEHИE!
“And tell me, Mr. Moore, how exactly is any
of this relevant? So the rain removed
dirt from the defendant’s car! All that
proves is the laws of physics!”
♪‘OBJECTION!’♫
sung slightly off-key.
“But remember!”
countered Chance, his fists tightening, “Your own witness has reported that the
rain stopped at
“something like another vehicle running through a
puddle!”
Courtroom crowd go crazy!!
Bang! Bang! Bang! “ORDEEEEEEER UUUUUUUP!” bellowed Scotty. “Mr. Moore, are you suggesting that there was another vehicle on the road that night?”
“I CLAIM IT, AND I
CLAIM IT LOUD, YOUR HONOR!” Chancellor yelled
melodramatically.
“Preposterous!”
Krasivaya scorned. “All vehicles that
entered the turnpike that night are perfectly accounted for! There was not other vehicle on that road but
the defendant’s!”
♪‘OBJECTION!’♫ sung in falsetto.
“Correction, Ms. Krasivaya,” said
Chance. “No other vehicle went through the tollbooth other than the defendant’s! However, as Detective Spade clearly
testified…
You can’t see inside the booth itself… or in the small space behind it, where the employees park their cars.
“Unless the prosecution can prove that no one passed by tollbooth 1 other than the defendant, anyone could have committed the murder! Even Judge Scotty!”
“HEY! Now wait a minute!” cried Scotty, “I’m
not a killer! I’ll have no more of your
baseless accusations, Mr. Moore!” He
raised his gavel.
“ACK!” Chancellor reeled back. “I was just using you as an example, your
honor… I didn’t mean anything by it!” Apparently, Scotty didn’t know I was
kidding…
Scotty eyed Chance
carefully, and then set his gavel down gently.
“I’m keeping a close eye on you, Mr. Moore…”
“As am I,” Krasivaya
proclaimed. “And it just so happens that
I can prove that no one else passed by tollbooth 1 that day, Mr. Moore. The prosecution calls its final witness to
the stand!”
The final witness was
a tall man of Asian descent. He stood
fully erect at the stand, his short, black hair moving slightly from the breeze
of the air conditioner. He wore a crisp
green army jacket, with blue slacks and a neatly pressed, crimson dress shirt.
“Name? Occupation?” asked Krasivaya.
“Truman Hitokiri” the
man said tersely. “I work at tollbooth
12 on Uccisore Turnpike.”
“Mr. Hitokiri,”
Krasivaya prompted. “Please give your
testimony, and seal the case against the defendant.”
“Alright then” Truman
responded. “No one passed my tollbooth
at all that night, except for Mr. Moore.”
Silence.
“That’s it?” Chancellor’s jaw dropped.
“Don’t you have… anything else to say?”
“No.” Truman looked
forward apathetically.
“Unfortunately for
you, that’s all that’s required, Mr. Moore” Krasivaya said. “Unless you can find some miracle angle to
work this case from, you’re finished.”
She smiled, but for some reason, the usual satisfaction she felt was
absent.
Chancellor stared down
at his desk. “I’m… I’m going to
cross-examine now, Judge Scotty,” he finally stuttered out.
“Cross-examine what?”
asked Scotty, perplexed.
“If you don’t know, I
don’t…” Chancellor mumbled under his breath.
He cleared his throat, and glanced down into his chain. Nothing. He was on his own.
“Mr. Hitokiri, you
work at tollbooth 1, correct?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the booth Mr.
Moore entered his trip from?”
“Yes.”
“Can you give more
than a one word response?” Chancellor asked, frustrated.
“No.”
BOЗPAЖEHИE!
“Your honor!” demanded Krasivaya. “The witness is being non-responsive! He is here to testify!”
Did she just help me?
Chance looked at Krasivaya. Thanks he mouthed.
Just don’t screw this up she mouthed back. Then she winked.
Chancellor scratched
behind his ear and turned bright red.
“Er… um… well… Mr. Hitokiri!”
“What now?” he asked, clearly annoyed.
“So… you’re certain
that Mr. Moore went by your booth that night?”
“Yes.” He paused for a moment, waiting until
Krasivaya prepared to scream to continue.
“I saw his green Volkswagen Beetle pull by the booth.”
“I said Mr. Moore, not the car” Chancellor emphasized.
Truman rolled his
eyes. “Yes. I’m sure Mr. Moore went by. I talked with him face to face, after all.”
♪‘OBJECTION!’♫
sung in a perfect tenor.
“Mr. Hitokiri, I have
to ask, why would you lie about something like that?” Chancellor tried to manage a hateful glare,
but just missed.
“What… what do you
mean?” Hitokiri faltered.
“What I mean is, while
you may work at tollbooth 1, you only talk to customers when they’re ending their trips! Mr. Moore entered the turnpike using your booth, and didn’t even stop!” Chancellor smiled internally. He hadn’t messed it up this time!
“Oh… yes, well… I must
be mistaken… perhaps I was thinking of someone else” Hitokiri stammered.
“Which
means that there was another person
who passed by that night!” Chance
pounced.
BOЗPAЖEHИE!
“The witness has said nothing of the sort,
your honor!” Krasivaya quickly covered.
“Mr. Hitokiri, will you explain away this discrepancy?”
“Erm... yes, well…
It’s like I said! I must be confusing
Mr. Moore with someone I spoke with earlier that night. That’s all.”
Hitokiri looked back and forth, hoping his explanation would pass.
“That kind of puts
your credibility as witness in question, doesn’t it?” pressed Chancellor. “After all, if you can’t remember seeing Mr.
Moore, and you mix up with other people so easily…”
“I remember seeing Mr.
Moore!” Truman snapped. “I watched him go by out of boredom, he was the only car that passed by that late at
night.”
“Alone,
yes?” Chancellor baited.
“What? Yes!” Truman slipped. “He was alone!”
♪‘OBJECTION!’♫
sung harshly.
“Another
lie, Mr. Hitokiri.” Chancellor
shook his head, smiling. “Why do you
keep doing this to us?” He smirked,
glancing at Truman with a knowing look.
“You’re not trying to hide something, are you?”
“WHAT?” Hitokiri reeled
back. “NO! Of course not! I’m just… a bit under the weather, that’s
all…”
“Is lying
a physical illness now?” posed Chance. “They
should make some cream for that, or maybe some sort of surgery, I think I see
your nose getting a hair longer… his voice trailed off. For the first time in the trial, he
Chancellor looked one hundred percent serious.
“Mr. Hitokiri” he stated. “You
have lied on two occasions thus far. 1) To establish your credibility as a witness, and 2) to distance
yourself from the victim in this murder.
Perhaps it’s just me, but this can only mean one thing…” he struck an
‘objection’ pose. “You are Mr. Revadac’s real killer!”
“WHAAAAT?” Hitokiri fell over on the stand. “How…”
BOЗPAЖEHИE!
“How on earth do you hope to prove such a
thing, Mr. Moore?” Krasivaya challenged.
“You want us to believe that a man in a tollbooth would catch a glimpse
of a person riding in a car, and decide to commit murder?” She smashed the wall behind her with her
hand. “That is preposterous!”
♪‘OBJECTION!’♫
sung opera-style.
“And what if it wasn’t
their first meeting?” Chancellor
tensed. Everything was going exactly as
planned. “What if they had met earlier? Years earlier in fact?”
“I’m not sure what
you…” Krasivaya started.
“Take a look at this,
Scotty!” He held up the precious ‘
Krasivaya turned red, then read the passage aloud.
“One of the smugglers, Truman Hitokiri, has identified another man, one
‘Greg Arias’ as the leader of the expedition.
A recent picture of Arias is shown here…” she stopped. Her bright, blue eyes bulged out of their
sockets. “Th-th-th…
that’s!”
Chancellor nodded
solemnly. “Go on. It’s alright.”
Krasivaya felt
something catch in her throat. “That picture... that is General Revadac.” She said reluctantly.
Chancellor nodded. “You see?
A motive for murder if I’ve ever seen one.” He pointed accusingly at Hitokiri. “Isn’t that right, witness??!?!?”
Truman raised his arms
up in defense. “Huh? What?
No! I never…” He smashed his fist
down onto the stand. “NOW WAIT JUST A
MINUTE! Just because I have a reason to kill doesn’t mean I did
it!”
Krasivaya nodded. “You’re absolutely right, Mr. Hitokiri. That’s like saying Mr. Moore can date a man
just because he looks like a woman.”
Chancellor literally
fell over. ♪‘OBJECTION!’♫
he sang, rising from the floor. “OK,
THAT’S JUST GOING TOO FAR!”
Krasivaya laughed. “My apologies, Mr. Moore, but the point still stands. Unless you can provide some sort of solid
evidence tying Mr. Hitokiri to the murder, you have done nothing but pose a
decent theory.”
Chancellor gestured
dramatically. “Evidence? You want evidence? Fine!
It should be arriving just about… NOW!”
BANG!
Just then, Ricardo
Writchard (who had been waiting outside the door) kicked open the courtroom doors,
strolled in, handed Chancellor a slip of paper and a chocolate-covered
strawberry, and walked out nonchalantly.
There was silence for a minute, as Chance read over and the rest of the
crowd wondered incredulously what had just happened.
Chancellor cleared his
throat. “Your honor” he began “at this
time, the defense would like to re-call the defendant Thompson Moore… it will
be very short, I doubt that he even has to take the
stand.”
Scotty didn’t know
what was going on, but decided ‘oh well, what the hell’ and went with it. “Very well. The witness may make a statement.”
“Thank you, your
honor.” Chancellor turned to face his
father. “Did you see any other cars on
the road that night?”
“Yes, I did” Thompson
nodded. “I saw a green Corvette whip by
my car when I pulled over to let Mr. Revadac out.”
“No further questions”
Chancellor smiled.
Krasivaya stood
uneasily, unsure of what had just happened.
“Mr. Moore? What exactly was the
point of that? Of course the defendant would claim to have seen another car… besides that, I
don’t even think they make green Corvettes…”
“Follow my train of
logic for a minute, will you?” implored Chancellor.
“For starters, think about what you just said. Most people have never seen a green Corvette,
in fact, I’m fairly certain they don’t make them!
Why on earth would Mr. Moore try to cover for himself by saying he saw a
car that he doesn’t know exists? That! Does not! Make! Sense!”
Chancellor’s speaking quickened; there was no turning back now. “Let’s follow that a bit further, shall
we? Having no knowledge that such a car
existed, he would also have no knowledge of who owned such a car, correct? He
wouldn’t be able to use the information to cover for himself?”
Krasivaya shifted
uncomfortably. As much as she hated to
admit it,
“Then you’ll have no
objections…” Chancellor bellowed, “When I tell you that the only green Corvette
in all of
The courtroom burst
into discord. Judge Scotty banged on his
gavel over and over again, but to no avail.
Krasivaya started pulling at her hair; she knew it was over. Truman Hitokiri began pounding his head
against the witness stand, and Thompson began to dance a little jig.
Chancellor popped the
chocolate-covered strawberry into his mouth and waited. There was no way left but ‘innocent’ from
here.
When the courtroom
finally died down, Chancellor explained the events of that night. “Truman Hitokiri, having finally gotten out
of years of imprisonment, must have been quite shocked when he saw the face of
the man he hated with his whole being drive by.
Overcome with hatred, he got into his car and followed behind Mr. Moore;
he wasn’t seen because the security camera doesn’t show the employee parking
area. When Thompson had to pull over to
the side, Mr. Hitokiri drove by; it was then when he splashed water on Mr.
Moore’s car, causing it to appear cleaner.
He then doubled back, caught up with Mr. Revadac, and murdered him.”
“I can understand why
he didn’t run him over… the blood splatter on the car would make it obvious it
was him…” Krasivaya mused. “But where
did the surgeon’s scalpel come from?”
Hitokiri hung his
head. “It… was just lying there on the
road… it must have fallen out of Mr. Moore’s car…”
Chancellor did a
double take. “Wait… are
you confessing?”
“Yes.”
“That…
that soon?”
“Yes.”
Chancellor stared at
the witness, unbelieving. “Don’t you
think that… you could have still gotten away with it? I haven’t exactly…”
“No.”
It was Chancellor who
hung his head this time, but not in shame.
He only did it to hide the tears of joy flooding down his face. At long last, it was over.
-District Courthouse, Defendant’s Lobby 2.
Writchard was waiting
for the
“VICTORY
SCREEEEEECH!!!!” the private eye yelled.
“OLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOOOO!”
the three of them… well, screeched. It
would have gone on for several more minutes had not Morage
Thenue stepped into the room, holding both ears in
pain.
“
Chancellor nearly had a heart attack.
He had worked so hard to win his first case, and he was still going to be fired? Not
cool. He rushed over to Thenue, his head down.
“Sir… I’m very sorry sir, I…”
“Good job” the veteran
attorney said.
Chancellor’s mind went
completely blank. He had never heard Morage Thenue compliment anyone before. “Come again?” he
finally managed.
“I said good job” Thenue iterated. He
looked down at the ground. “To be
honest… I never liked you, Moore.” He
tried to meet Chance’s eyes, but failed.
“The only reason I got you an extension is because this trial was
against Krasivaya… I thought for sure you’d lose…” He cleared his throat, and
then patted the white-haired attorney on the back awkwardly. “Good job, son!” he suddenly said,
over-emphatically, “You’ve done the firm proud!”
“It’s nice to see my lawyers have such a healthy relationship” came Thompson’s voice from the other side of the room. “Though I’m not sure I like your policy of assuming a case is a guaranteed loss…” He smiled. “On second thought, I’m probably a bit biased, so just disregard my opinion.”
Thenue gave the doctor a queer look. What a strange family… he murmured under his breath. “Well, Chancellor!” he said aloud, “I’d best be getting to the office then, the next client could be just around the corner!’ He walked out of the room briskly, putting as much distance between him and the weirdoes as possible.
Chancellor shook his head in disbelief. Some boss… He felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. He turned around, and looked into his father’s smiling face.
“Thank you, son” said Thompson. “Let’s hope this never happens again.”
Chancellor nodded. “Yeah…” he laughed. “I hope I get a guilty person next time, defending the innocent is way too stressful.”
“Indeed” came a feminine voice from behind Chancellor. Chancellor smiled, then turned to face madam prosecutor. Something struck him as odd; if he didn’t know better, he’d say she was… he didn’t know better. She was clearly uncomfortable and nervous.
Krasivaya refused to meet Chance’s eyes. “Mr. Moore…” she began. “You have to understand something… I… have never lost… ever. For years now, I have absolutely squashed every worthless defense attorney out there…” She looked up, still not meeting Chance’s eyes. “You have to understand… I’m… disappointed in myself right now… and angry. I want you to understand that… so you can appreciate what I have to say next…” She paused. Then she looked into Chance’s eyes, and smiled. “Congratulations” she said, “I hope we meet again, Mr. Moore.” She turned to leave.
“Hey! Krasivaya!” Chancellor yelled, causing her to turn around abruptly.
“Yes?” she asked, caught off guard.
He smiled. “My name is Chancellor. Call me Chance.”
She looked at him for a minute, and then smiled back. “My name is Tanya” she replied. She turned to leave again.
“Wait! One more thing!” he called. She turned back around. “What do you think of chocolate-covered strawberries?” He held his breath. His view of her for the rest of eternity depended on her answer.
She looked at him with a puzzled look. “They’re nature’s most perfect food. Why do you ask?”
Chancellor beamed. “You’ll find out later. See you around!”
She gave him a questionable look, then smiled again. She gave a small wave, then turned around for the final time and walked out the door. The three men watched her leave.
Chancellor turned to Writchard. “It’s going to be a good life, isn’t it?”
Writchard turned to Chancellor. “You are the luckiest man alive, Chance.”
“She’s that pretty huh?” he smiled.
“Not that!” Writchard explained. “You actually won in court today!” He put on a big grin, and punched Chance in the arm playfully. “If that’s not luck, I don’t know what is.”
Chancellor’s right eye began to twitch; then, without warning, he leaped on Ricky. He tightened his hands around the private eye’s throat and began to squeeze, Ricky gagging hysterically.
“Don’t do it, Chance!” laughed Thompson. “A lawyer who defends himself has a fool for a client!” Then, as soon as the fight at broken out, it was over. Pizza was ordered, and a toast was made to the world’s newest Ace Attorney: Chancellor Moore.
________________________________________________________________________
Skip this part if you want, but I like reading these things, even when I’ve already figured out where the names come from.
-Chancellor and Thompson Moore.
Thomas More was an
English lawyer in the 1500’s. He was
chancellor of
Chancellor’s name was also picked for use in puns such as: “Give me another Chance!” or “Tell me more, Mr. Moore.”
The name was
changed from ‘More’ to ‘
-Ricardo Writchard
Thomas More was rowed to court every day by a poor peasant named Ritchie Rich (seriously). Ricardo Writchard is just an embellishment of that.
-Morage Thenue
Depending on how you read it, it can be ‘more rage then you’ or ‘more age then you’ squished together. Describes his angry nature and the fact that he’s an older man.
-Tracy Spade
Allusions to two famous detectives: Dick Tracy and Sam Spade.
-Tanya Krasivaya.
In Russian, ‘Krasivaya’ means ‘beautiful’. Tanya is just a common Russian girl’s name.
-Judge Scotty
Named purely so I could make reference to the song ‘Scotty doesn’t know’ by Lustra.
-Liam Sirius.
He uses the word ‘seriously’ all the time! Rearrange the two names and get “Seriously am”.
-General Revadac
Revadac is ‘cadaver’ (dead body) backwards. It refers to the fact that he’s just a random victim I made up so I could write a murder story.
-Truman Hitokiri
‘Hitokiri’ means ‘killer’ in Japanese, so when run together, his name reads: “True man-killer.”
-Uccisore Turnpike
The first word isn’t made up; it’s Italian for ‘killer’.
-St. Maladie General Hospital.
‘Maladie’ is French for ‘illness’.
Oh, and if you’re wondering, they don’t make green Corvettes. At least not ‘08s.
END.