Have you ever wondered how hard the judge must have it?  He knows virtually nothing before going into his trials, and has random evidence sprung on him left and right!  Sure he gets briefed, but the way things turn around… he must get confused.

            Therefore, I’ve decided to forego writing about an attorney and focus on the oft-undervalued role of judge.  Hitherto, thus, and wherefore, we proudly submit…

Scotty Domino: Mighty Magistrate

“What don’t you understand, your honor?”

            “That’s exactly what I don’t understand.”

            “Huh?”

            “The whole ‘your honor’ thing; I don’t understand why you’re calling me that.”

            Detective Tracy Spade scratched his head, unsure whether an explanation of the concept would insult the man in front of him.  He shrugged, conferred with Hanson, and ventured forth with an explanation.  “Well you see the election results came in and…”

            “Yes, yes, I know the technical reasons of my appointment,” Scotland Domino said, rolling his eyes, “but I don’t understand why, of all people, I was the one who won!”

            “You had some catchy slogans during the campaign…” Hanson offered.

            “Stuff like ‘you be the judge’ and No one’s agenda but my own?” Scotty blanched.  I designed those to be almost intentionally off putting!”

            …Am I the only one who sees something wrong with this picture?  *Sigh*.  Name’s Scotty, and it would appear I’m a judge.  … No, seriously, doesn’t anyone else see something wrong with this picture?  For heaven’s sake I’m a cartography major!  How am I supposed to determine other people’s fates in good conscience? Oh… my legs… my poor legs…

            Spade scratched his half-beard (Actually a five o’clock shadow, but only on one side of his face).  “So wait… you… didn’t want to win, your honor?”

            “Well, no, I did” Scotty lied.  “I just wasn’t expecting it.”  He paused, and then smiled slightly, finally considering the positives.  “Although… you know what this means?”  He raised his eyebrows.  “I won the bet.”

            “Bet, your honor?” Hanson asked.

            Scotty sighed.  “First of all, Detective Spade, that’s getting kind of creepy.”

            Spade put on a pouting face, and clutched Hanson (his left hand, adorned with a pen-drawn mouth and google eyes.)  “Shh… you’ll hurt his feelings!”

            Scotty shook his head, his star-shaped locks of blonde hair rustling ever so slightly.  “... Whatever.  Anyway, second of all, yes, a bet.”  He scratched the back of his neck, almost embarrassed.  “I… ran for judge because someone at college bet me I couldn’t win.”  He chuckled.  “Well, his loss… now he’s got to pay for the whole campaign, plus $2500 dollars spending money!”  He smiled broadly.  “That’s just what you get when you mess with the great Judge Domino, I suppose.”  He frowned, thinking on what he had just said.  “Too stuffy.  I’m going by Judge Scotty.”

            “I’m not sure you can just say that, your honor…”

            “Tell it to the judge… oh wait!”  Scotty laughed, and pointed to himself.  “That’s me!”  He sighed.  “So, how long is it until I’m inducted into office?  A month?  Month and a half?”  Give me some time to come to grips with this…and maybe file my resignation.

            Spade slumped slightly, reached into a file and pulled out a sheet of paper.  “Will you sign here, please?”

            Scotty hesitated, but signed the document nonetheless.

            “That… was it.”  Spade explained, putting the paper away.  “You’re now an official judge of Massachusetts District Court.”

            “Wha…” Scotty gaped.  No.  No, no, no.  “Why such a quick change in authority?” He gulped.  Don’t I have to go through training first?

            Spade smiled nervously.  “That… will be explained, once I show you your office, sir.”

- Chambers of Scotty.  5/23.  8:00 am.

            Scotty’s new office was almost exactly as he’d expected it to be.  It was a dim oversized room, with a mahogany desk in the middle and a large window directly behind it.  The American and Massachusetts flags flanked each side of the desk, and besides a few filing cabinets, there was pretty much nothing else there.

            Unless one counted the police tape, crime scene numbers, bloodstains on the floor and desk, harrowed detectives running around everywhere...

            “Oh no…” Scotty groaned.  “Someone was murdered in my new office, weren’t they?”  He began to sob.  This just keeps getting better and better.

            Spade started.  “Erm… your honor?  Did you know the victim, or?”

“No…” Scotty admitted through tear-filled eyes.   “But if this crime goes unresolved for a few days, when will I get around to redecorating?”

Sadly, he wasn’t joking.

            Spade looked at the young judge with disbelief, shook his head in said disbelief, and awkwardly placed a hand around Scotty’s shoulder.  “There, there…”

Hanson cooed as he patted Scotty on the back.  “Spade will give you the run down of the case, it will go to trial in a few hours, and then you can redo your office however you want.”

            Scotty shuddered and quickly bolted away from Spade.  The detective laughed, and began to lay bare the facts of the case.

            “The victim was the previous judge of this office, one Draco Libra.  We found his body at about 10:00 last night.”

            “Did he take bribes?”  Scotty asked out of the blue.

            “W-Well…” Spade stuttered.  “Nothing was ever proven, but… how did you know that?”

            “He’s a judge.  He was murdered.”  Scotty shrugged.  “Seems like the best explanation.”

            “Yes, you would think so” Spade admitted.  “But the prosecution doesn’t think the murder was tied to that…”

            “Well then, what does the prosecution think?”

            “She thinks…” Spade frowned.  “I don’t know what she thinks, actually.  It’s her first time in court here and…”

            “She doesn’t feel confident enough to express her ideas outside of the courtroom… of course.”  Scotty nodded.  Makes my job so much easier, doesn’t it?  “And the defendant?  What have you got on him?”

            “Something… Van something… it’s a really cool name.  He’s a college professor who was found over in that closet when the body was found.”  He pointed to a door-less closet with a few hanging robes and a large, human-sized mirror.  “We still don’t know why he was there… only that he was there, and it seems he had a motive for killing the victim.”

            “Which was?”

            “Again, I’m not sure about that… it’s her first time in court and…”

            “Humph…” Scotty frowned.  “I’ll have to speak with her after this is over about communication between departments…”

            “I wouldn’t blame her, your honor!” Spade interjected quickly.  “Not only is she new but… she’s sort of a… well, I guess you could call her an ‘ambassador’ of sorts.”

            Scotty stared at Spade blankly.  “… Run that by me again?”

            Spade nodded.  “She’s been sent over here from our sister court in Volgograd, and…”

            “Sister court?” Scotty balked.

            “Yeah!  What’s wrong with that?”  Spade shouted suddenly.  “You’re not one of those people, who are going to go around protesting it, are you?”  He shook his head, mumbling “the cold war is over, man…” under his breath.

“No… I’m not!  Don’t look at me like that!”  Scotty clarified quickly.  Who’s on trial here, anyway?  Oh… my legs…“I understand, really I… well, not really, but I’ll keep what you’ve said in mind.”  Scotty assured.  “But I will still need to say something to her; I mean, how am I supposed to get any bearing on whether the defendant is guilty or not without all the facts?”

            “Well… you’re not exactly supposed to have an opinion before the trial starts…” Spade ventured.  “But he’s guilty, your honor!”  The detective nodded his head exuberantly. “Not only does the evidence say so, but...” he paused for dramatic effect.  “He tried to escape.”

            Scotty’s eyes widened.  “Really?  That does make him look a bit guilty, now, doesn’t it?”  Of course, Tom Robinson tried to escape too…

            “You bet!”  Spade barked.  “Heck, if I’m wrong, Hanson here will sing his biggest hit for ten hours straight!”

            “He… sings?”  Scotty asked warily, eyes lowered in disbelief.

            “Yeah! Ahem…”  He held ‘Hanson’ up, and began to move it to match the lyrics.  “MMM BOP! BA DUBA BOP BA, DU BOP, BA DUBA BOP BA…”

            “Enough!” Scotty said, clenching his ears.  “Heaven have mercy… if my ears had wrists I would slit them…”  He slowly lowered his hands, wary of another musical outburst.  “I get the point… you’re pretty confident he’s guilty.”

“Yes sir!”  Spade barked. “Although…” he frowned.  “He was pretty stupid when he tried to run away…” He scratched his head.  “I mean, he ran back here, where there were a bunch of police officers, and then dove under the desk…”  He shrugged.  “Almost as if he thought he could hide there.”

“Well… the criminal always returns to the scene of the crime, I suppose.” Scotty agreed hesitantly, not wanting to provoke further show-stopping numbers.  He thought for a minute, looking around the room.  “One more thing…” he mused.  “Why is there a crime scene number posted on the wall?”

“Oh that?”  Spade scratched his head.  “Well, the victim was hit over the head before being stabbed…” He cocked his head further, trying to remember.  “I think…”  He scanned the room, let out a soft gasp of triumph, and picked up a small plaque.  “Here it is your honor!”

“Right!  Thanks, Detective Spade.” Scotty nodded, making a mental note of the plaque.

- Plaque: A lifetime achievement award that Judge Libra received yesterday… how bitterly ironic is that?  The killer allegedly used it to hit him over the head, and it looks like there’s a piece of fabric caught on the back.

“Well… I’m not exactly sure how to do this yet” Scotty said hesitantly, “but… schedule the trial.  For today, if possible.”

            “It starts in an hour, your honor.”  Spade saluted.

            “Then I’m already getting the hang of this, aren’t I?”  Scotty smiled, as he nonchalantly slipped under the police tape and walked towards the closet, looking for a robe.

-District Courthouse, Courtroom 7.  5/23.  9:00 am

            “And in the Blue corner, weighing in at 171 pounds, Juuuuuuudge SCOOTTYYYY!”

            Cliff Bale, the muscular bailiff who had just cried out the boxing-ring style introduction, couldn’t help but smile.  Any judge who would go out of his way to ensure and plan such an entry was alright in his book.  He checked to make sure the sleeves of his almost obnoxiously bright white shirt were still rolled up (very important), saluted the judge, and walked to the back of the courtroom, his equally obnoxious white pants blinding those seated as he passed.

            “Yes, yes… very good, thank you Cliff.” Scotty nodded.  He cleared his throat.  “Alright then… Case Number 4375-B, Constantine VanHunt vs. the Commonwealth of Massachusetts will now come to order!”  He banged his gavel, got a funny idea in his head, and before he could help himself, cried “ORDER UP!”

            The prosecutor chuckled nervously.  The defense groaned.  “Please, your honor,” the attorney pleaded, “I know this is your first time, but… try to respect the American institution we’re in here!”

            The prosecutor gasped.  “You’re new too!  That mean we’re like two pieces in a pad, da?”

            “Two pieces in a…” Scotty thought for a moment.  “You mean two peas in a pod?”

            “Da!  Yes, that’s it!”  She smiled nervously.  “I’m sorry…”

            “No need to apologize Ms... erm…” He sifted through papers on his desk.  “They don’t give me anything with the attorneys’ names on it?”

            “Krasivaya, your honor” the Russian said quickly.  And krasivaya she was.  Skin, white and shimmering as a moon garden; hair, long and dark as an evening shadow. She wore a midnight turtleneck sweater that disguised a modest, yet developing figure.  “Tanya Krasivaya…um… prosecuting protégé, I suppose.”

            “You do look a bit young…” Scotty observed.  “How old are you anyway?”

            “Seventeen…” she said, playing nervously with her hair.  “I became a prosecutor a year ago but… this is my first trial in America, your honor.”

            “More power to you then,” Scotty encouraged, pumping a fist in the air.  He turned to the defense.  “And you are?”

            “Gilford Harrow, your honor.”  He was an older man, about six feet tall, perhaps mid fifties, and was considered by many the definitive, “defense attorney of defense attorneys” in Boston.  Brown hair done in a buzz cut, Harrow wore a red and white striped jacket, blue dress shirt, and white starred tie.  The flagstaff he used as a cane only increased the impression of him being a walking American flag.  “Defender of the American People, ready to do battle with the ‘commies’ as always.”

            Krasivaya flinched slightly.  “I… I might be Russian, but… I’m not a communist, sir…”

            “That’s what they all say,” Gilford said, shaking his head.  “I was never a member of the communist party!”  He exclaimed mockingly.  “I didn’t even know a war was going on!  I had no idea what was happening to the Jews!”

            “That was the Nazis!” Krasivaya yelled defensively.

            “Like it matters!”  Gilford declared loudly.  “Nazis, Communists, the ACLU… all of you shall do battle with America, and all of you shall fall!”  By America, he meant himself, which he made very clear by thumping his chest loudly on the word ‘America.’

            Scotty groaned and banged the gavel loudly.  He liked the sound of it, so he banged it a second time.  “Order up, people!  Stop arguing amongst yourselves and explain to me what the heck happened!”

            “Da, your honor!” Krasivaya said, springing to attention.  She cleared her throat.  “Mr. Draco Libra was found dead as a floor nail in his… your… judge’s chamber.  He was stabbed twice, presumably with the wooden stake found in his body.”

            “Stabbed with a wooden stake?”  Scotty repeated, raising his eyebrows.  “I knew the recent upswing in vampire literature would do no good for the American public…”

-Autopsy Report: Died between 9:00 and 10:00 pm. Victim hit once over the head with a blunt object, and then stabbed twice.  Stabbed fatally through the heart with a weapon approximately four feet long; then once again through the chest with a weapon of equal length, most likely the same one.  Wooden stake found in chest.  No foreign substances found in heart to confirm death by the stake, however.

            “Indeed…” Krasivaya nodded.  “For you see, not only was the murder method a wooden stake but…”  She paused for a moment, uncertain if she really wanted to continue.  “The victim was tall, thin, and inordinately pale.  Libra’s canines were longer and sharper than average, and he had a reputation for being a night hooter.  He always wore his judge robe’s collar up and the buttons open, so that the entire thing looked more like a cape then a robe…”

            OBJECTION!

            “So what are you saying, commie?” Harrow laughed, shaking his head back and forth.  “That the victim was a vampire?  I understand that your Slavic heritage might blind you from reality a little…”

            BOЗPAЖEHИE!

            “Mr. Harrow!”  Krasivaya objected, shrinking back slightly.  “The prosecution would appreciate it if you would stop mocking its Russian Heritage!”

            OBJECTION!

            “That has nothing to do with this case, commie!  Your objection is entirely irrelevant to the case at hand, and holds no water in this courtroom!”  He pounded his flagpole into the ground and thrust his chest out dramatically.  “Aren’t I right, your honor?”

            Scotty stared at him for a minute.  “You’re being a jerk,” he said bluntly, “and I won’t tolerate anymore ‘commie’ comments from you, got it?”

            “Wha…what?”  Harrow flinched back in shock.  “But… in thirty years, no judge has dared ever say anything…” He pounded the pole into the ground and stuck his chest out again.  “You’re imposing on my freedom of speech!  That’s UNAMERICAN!”

            “First of all, since you’ve brought up freedom of speech, I’m going to exercise it right now and refer to you as ‘Gilly’ for the rest of the trial, got it?”

            Harrow sputtered.  “Wha… wh… why…”

            “Quite frankly, because it sounds better, and it’ll put less strain on my voice and legs than saying ‘Mr. Harrow’ a dozen times.  Second of all..” Scotty smiled, feeling proud of himself: “freedom of speech doesn’t extend to essentially insulting or violent words… or didn’t you go to law school?”  Scotty smirked.  Of course, I didn’t go to law school either so…meh, whatever.

            Harrow stared at Scotty for a minute, and backed down.  “Very well, your honor.”  He cleared his throat, straightening his tie simultaneously.  “As I was objecting earlier, I hardly see how the victim’s eerie similarity to a vampire has anything to do with this case!”  He whacked his flagpole on the desk.  “America would like the prosecution to get to its point.”

            Krasivaya frowned.  “That… was my point…” she said softly.  “And I’d like to call the defendant to the stand to show why it’s related to the case.”

            Scotty felt his legs start to twitch.  His RLS (Restless Legs Syndrome) always got worse whenever something absolutely insane (or inane) was about to happen, and it gave him a sick feeling inside.  “Very well… I suppose we have to, don’t we…”

            “Well, if you wanted to be a true American, you could just admit my client is innocent right now…” Harrow offered.

            “We’ll listen to the testimony first, shall we?”  Scotty groaned.  Oh…my legs…

            The young man who took the stand was dressed… eccentrically, at best.  He wore ripped jeans and torn sneakers, both pitch black.  His upper half was adorned with nothing but a red and white splotched under armor shirt with a small black vest.

            “Defendant?”  Scotty lifted his eyebrows.  “Erm… is the shirt your wearing made like that, or…”

            “No, your honor.”  Krasivaya explained.  “That shirt was white when purchased… the red splotches on it are blood.”  She paused, fiddling with her hair.  “…Judge Libra’s blood, to be exact.”

            “Oh… well…”  That’s enough evidence to convict him already!  “I… I suppose we’ll start formally.” As formally as I can muster right now… “Defendant, state your name and occupation for the court.”

            “Who, me?”  The defendant said brazenly.  “As you’ve already said, I’m the Constantine VanHunt!  Greatest professor of parapsychology and paranormal studies the world over!”  He crossed his arms, and put on an over exaggerated thinking pose.  “Though, to be honest, I guess I could only really claim to be the greatest professor inside of the U.S… never know what those Russians are cooking up, you know?”

            “What is this courtroom’s obsession with stereotyping Russians?”  Krasivaya blanched.

            “It’s not that!”  He put his hands up in defense.  “It’s just that tales of vampires, werewolves and such are mostly Slavic in origin, you know?  I’ve always figured there must be someone, maybe living as a hermit in Serbia or Siberia, who knows more about them then I do.”

            “Ah… da, I understand your line of thinking.”  Krasivaya placated.  “Now, could you tell the court your other profession?”

            “No way!”  VanHunt yelled, striking a forceful pose.  “You won’t get anything from the mighty VanHunt!  My attorney told me not to say anything!”

            Harrow slammed his head on the desk, and let it lay there.  Clearly he hadn’t taken the stupidity of the witness into account.

            “I don’t really see how stating your second job could incriminate you…” Scotty pondered.  “And now I’m intrigued…”  He banged his gavel.  “I order you to testify!  What’s your second occupation?”

            “Um…” He slicked his black hair back nervously.  “I pride myself a…um… vampire hunter, your honor.”

            Silence.

            “You…” Scotty blinked twice.  “You… what?”  He cocked his head to the side.  “You… do know that vampires don’t exist, right?”

            “That’s exactly what they want you to think!”  VanHunt yelled, striking a valiant pose.  “They’ve sown seeds of disbelief, making mortals believe that they’re safe and there’s nothing to worry about… then bang!  They strike!”  He shook his head, hysterical.  “Amelia Earhart, Jimmy Hoffa, Easter Island… you think people just disappear like that?  No!  The vampires captured them and forced them into service!”  He slammed his fists on the witness stand.  “That’s why I, the mighty VanHunt, have sworn to defend the people of the world from their dastardly schemes!”  He struck another chivalrous pose to emphasize his point.

            Scotty was silent for a minute.  … My legs…  “Cliff?  Would you approach the bench?”

            “What is it your honor?”  Bale asked, somehow cracking his knuckles and rolling up his sleeves simultaneously.  “Want me to book him?”

            “Not exactly…” Scotty whispered.  “I was just wondering if it’s legal to declare a mistrial due to allegations of vampirism.”

            Bale’s eyelids lowered.  “Of course it is your honor.  That’s what happened during my trial.”

            “You’re an ex-con?”

            “Does that really matter right now?” Bale interrupted quickly.

            “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”  Scotty shook his head.  “Very well then, I suppose I’ll be forced to continue this.”  He banged his gavel for attention.  “So, Ms… Krah…see…vai…ya?”

            “You pronounced it correctly!”  Krasivaya smiled.  “Da, your honor?”

            “You claim that the defendant murdered the victim… because he thought judge Libra was a vampire?”  He raised his eyebrows.  “Are you quite sure?  As your debut case…”

            “It seems a bit blind-goggling, da.”  Krasivaya nodded.  “But police investigation has turned up solid evidence that shows the defendant is guilty…”  She shrugged.  “Whether or not the motivation was purely vampirical or if there was a deeper, ulterior motive doesn’t actually matter all that much, does it?”

            OBJECTION!

            “It matters greatly your honor!”  Harrow objected.  “To convict a man of murder without establishing a motive would be simply un-American!”

            “But… Ms. Krasivaya has already established a motive… the whole vampire thing…” Scotty said, scratching his head.

            “But!”  Harrow jumped in, “that assumes that judge Libra met my client’s requirements for being a vampire!”  He slammed his flagpole on the desk.  “And as my client’s testimony will show, Judge Libra did no such thing!”

            “Oh, really now?”  Scotty asked wryly.  “And I assume you want me to care enough to ask for such testimony?”

            “W-Well…” Harrow stuttered.  “Yes!  It’s the American court’s duty to…”

            “Yes… very well…” Scotty gave in.  “Mr. VanHunt?  If you would testify about your…erm… standards, I suppose?”

            “Always happy to inform the public” VanHunt said, slicking his hair again.  “You see Libra; he was actually scarily close to being in the running.  Pale skin, long teeth, being nocturnal; all of those are classic signs of vampirism.  But you see: there were two other requirements he didn’t meet, so I’d never have considered him one!  1) A vampire shows no visible signs of aging, and Judge Libra has begun to look older over time!  2) A vampire is… well… impotent.  And Judge Libra has two kids!”  He shook his head.  “Why on earth would I think he was a vampire?  It doesn’t make any sense, you know?”

            “Um…” Scotty blinked. …My legs… “A… good point I suppose?”  Is that jargon even admissible as testimony?  “Um… Ms. Krasivaya?  Do you want to… refute anything the witness has said?”

            “Judge Libra’s children are both grown up.  He hasn’t procreated recently for the past twenty years, at least.  Also…”  Krasivaya shook her head, again not believing what was going on.  “Judge Libra has been receiving monthly BOTOX injections for the last ten years…” She held up the accompanying proof.  “Because of this, he has actually not appeared to age over that time...”

            OBJECTION!

            “And you assume my client knew about this?”  Harrow countered.  “What kind of proof is that?”

            “Good enough for me,” Scotty said abruptly.

            “What?”  Harrow said, again dumbfounded.

            “Well, I mean, come on!”  Scotty balked.  “Your argument is that VanHunt had no motive because Libra didn’t fit his criteria for being a vampire.  A VAMPIRE!”  He shook his head.  “This man is clearly crazy!  Perhaps not insane, but certainly irrational and unstable.  Besides, he could have simply made up the extra bits of criteria on the spot, to cover for himself!”  He banged his gavel.  “OBJECTION OVERRULED!  And I’d like to see some actual evidence from here on out, understood you two?”

            “You want actual evidence?”  Harrow said, gripping his flag cane tightly.  “Fine!  I’ll show you some ‘actual’ evidence!”  He took out a photograph from his briefcase.  “This photo was taken upon finding the body.  Look at it!  You’ll see what I mean.”

-Crime Scene Photo: Shows the body of Draco Libra, wooden stake sticking out of his chest.  There is a key lying on the floor marked ‘l1.’  Judge’s closet can be seen, and scene is reflected in the stand-up mirror.

            Scotty’s eyelids narrowed.  “I’m… not entirely sure what you’re driving at here, Gilly.”

            “Well,” Harrow said with a smile.  “What is the old myth about vampires and reflections?”

            “They don’t have reflec…oh!”  Scotty jolted.  “I see… and the closet doesn’t have a door, either!”  He nodded his head.  “So, even as unstable as this man is, if he had been in the room…”
            “He would have seen the victim’s reflection, yes!”  Harrow nodded firmly.  “And no vampire hunter on earth would go after someone with one of those.”

            “Well then…” Scotty mused, shaking his head.  “Following the messed-up logic that this young man has…”

            “Stop calling me crazy!” VanHunt yelled, striking an epic pose.  “They exist!  I just know more about them than you do!”

            “Following the illogic that this man has,” Scotty continued, “there seems to have been no mot…”

            BOЗPAЖEHИE!

            “Sorry to interrupt, your honor…” Krasivaya interjected.  “But… at the time of the murder… the mirror was not visible.”

            “PREPOSTEROUS!”  Harrow yelled, banging his flag cane on the ground.  This photo shows the truth!  Only an un-American ignoramus could deny the truth of these findings!”

            BOЗPAЖEHИE!

            “Mr. Harrow…” Krasivaya explained.  “It was my department that took that crime photo, and I’m quite sure there’s something missing from it.  Namely, these…”  She presented a clothes bag, filled with judge’s robes.  “When the victim was stabbed, blood sprayed across the room and landed on these robes.”  She straightened up more, trying to appear imposing.  “And when the police investigated early this morning, these robes were hanging in the closet, completely obscuring the mirror from view!”

            “Oh beautiful for spacious skies!” Harrow yelled, his jacket fluttering backwards like a flag.

            Scotty banged his gavel.  “ORDER UP!” He yelled.  “The court accepts these robes into evidence.”

-Bloody Robes:  Four robes, tailor-made for Judge Libra.  Blood test reveals that the blood on the robes is type O+, and belonged to the victim.

            “So you see…” Krasivaya said, almost smiling.  “The defendant would have had no way of knowing that the victim had a reflection.”

            “But… but wait!”  VanHunt began.  “What about…”
            OBJECTION!

            “Mr. VanHunt…” Harrow said quietly.  “Don’t say anything that you might regret.”

            Scotty’s eyes flew open.  “Mr. VanHunt?  Did you want to say something?”

            “Um… no!” VanHunt said nervously.  “I plead the fifth.  For real this time.”

            Well, he does have the right to do that.  Scotty thought.  And I suppose Harrow wouldn’t have stopped him if it could have helped his case, but…  He scratched his head.  Something like that just makes VanHunt seem incredibly suspicious, you know?  “Very well then, Mr. VanHunt.  If you wish, you may step down.”

            VanHunt hesitated, then nodded and returned to the defendant’s chair.

            “Alright then” Scotty said, clearing his throat.  “If I didn’t get lost in all of the crazy-talk and objections back there… I believe motive has been established, yes?” He nodded his head.  “Yes.  The prosecution has shown that the defendant had no reason to doubt Draco Libra’s… vampire status.”  He moaned softly.  My legs…  “Right… So I guess that means the next order of business is showing physical evidence that Mr. VanHunt committed the crime.”  He smiled broadly, ruffling his hair.  “Is that about right?”

            “Even if it isn’t, your honor, that was my intention” Krasivaya smiled.  “The prosecution calls Detective Tracy Spade to the stand.”

            “Yes ma’am!”  Spade said excitedly, bounding forward.

            Krasivaya chuckled softly.  “Your enthusiasm is… appreciated, Mr. Spade.”  She relaxed a little. “Please describe your findings at the crime scene, if you would.”

            “Alright then!”  Spade barked.  “The first thing we noticed, of course, was the large wooden stake sticking out of Mr. Libra’s body which, incidentally, had the defendant’s fingerprints all over it.  The next thing we noticed was the defendant himself, curled up unconscious inside the judge’s closet.  From there we collected up the robes, and took up some carpet to run blood tests on.  Last but not least, upon searching the defendant, we found the key that he had used to enter the room in his vest pocket, and lifted a clear thumbprint belonging to him from it.”  He nodded his head sharply.  “It all adds up to one thing, really.  The man is guilty!  No questions asked!”

            “The stake and key mentioned, your honor” Krasivaya said, presenting the appropriate items.

            “Accepted into evidence” Scotty nodded.

-Wooden Stake:  It’s huge!  Who the heck has the time to whittle a four-foot wooden stake down to a sharp point like this?  Bears VanHunt’s fingerprints and Libra’s blood.

-Key: A key to my chambers, marked ‘1l’.  Bears VanHunt’s thumbprint.

            “A question before we go on...” Scotty queried warily.  “Exactly how many and what kind of people are allowed to have keys to my chambers?”

“Courthouse staff, mostly” Spade answered.  “Prosecutors, bailiffs, state defenders, and a few higher-ups in the police force.”  He scratched his five o’clock shadow.  “A few keys are issued to private attorneys who are hired a lot, too.”

            “The key in question was reported lost on the day of the incident, your honor,” Krasivaya explained.  “That is the only reason why Mr. VanHunt was able to enter Judge Libra’s chambers.”

            “That makes me feel a little better, I suppose…” Scotty said, shuddering slightly.           

            “Incidentally, Ms. Rasputina,” Harrow asked.  “Do you happen to know whose key was used to enter the room?”

            “According to the lost item report…” Krasivaya looked through her papers quickly.  “It was… our very own bailiff, one Cliff Bale.”

            “Cliff?”  Scotty said, raising his eyebrows.  “Really?  I never pegged you as the forgetful type.”

            “First impressions, right?”  Bale dismissed… dismissively.          “I went to the john and I guess I left it on the sink when I was washing my hands.”  He shrugged.  “Shit happens.”

            “Seems like an honest mistake” Scotty agreed.

            “Incidentally…” Bale continued.  “Here’s the report I filled in… I never submitted it, seeing as the key was found, but…”

            “Very well then” Scotty nodded.

-Lost Item Report:  Name: Cliff Bale.  Item Lost: Key ‘1l’.  Time Lost: 4:00 pm.  Approximate location: Employee john, in the hallway by courtroom 7.

            “So I guess…” Scotty mused.  “That… that’s it then, isn’t it?”  He smiled slightly.  “It’s… it’s over, hey!”  He banged his gavel enthusiastically.  “Unless the defense has any objections, I think I’m ready to end this thing!”  That wasn’t so bad, heck that was almost enjoyable!  I’ll finally be able to get up and stretch while the jury debates…

            OBJECTION!

            My leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeegs!

            “You’ll pardon America, your honor” Harrow apologized insincerely.  “But I’d like to cross-examine what Mr. Bale just said.”

            “What… Mr. Bale said?”  Scotty frowned.  “I… why?”

            “I didn’t expect you to notice… you are a bit new, after all.”  Harrow shook his head.  “But there are quite a few contradictions regarding what Mr. Bale just said.”

            “Pardon me?”  Bale said defensively.  “You got a problem with what I said?”

            “Quite” Harrow said succinctly.  “First of all, I noticed that the time you claim to have lost your key was at 4:00 pm, yes?”

            “Yeah!”  Bale said, sticking out his chin.  “That’s what I said!”

            “Well then, why didn’t you file your lost item report then?”

            Bale shook his head unbelievingly, as if Harrow has said something stupid.  “I told you, I didn’t file it ‘cause the key was found!”

            “Well yes…” Harrow nodded slowly.  “… six hours later.”  He narrowed his eyes.  “You honestly expect me to believe that you waited for six hours, hoping that your key would be found before you submitted your report?”

            “So what if I did?”  Bale said, jutting his chin out further.  “I don’t want to go about making people think I forget stuff, capice?”

            “Very well” Harrow conceded, “but you won’t escape America’s clutches that quickly.”  He cleared his throat.  “I noticed that the… ahem… john you claim to have lost your key in was the employee restroom, yes?”

            “Y-yeah!”  Bale nodded furiously.  “That’s what it says on that paper, yeah!”

            “And employee restrooms often require keys to enter, yes?”

            “Well…”

            “Then how is it, Mr. Bale,” Harrow said loudly “that your key went from a restroom that my defendant was incapable of entering into his vest pocket in Judge Libra’s room by itself?”

            “Hey… I… I DUNNO!!” Bale yelled.

            OBJECTION!

            “Why does America find that hard to believe, Mr. Bale?”  Harrow yelled.  “You know exactly why that key was found in Judge Libra’s room, don’t you?”

            BOЗPAЖEHИE!

            “Your honor!” Krasivaya yelled.  “The defense is clearly ferreting the witness!”

            “Objection sust… wait.” Scotty scratched his head.  “F-ferreting?”  He thought the statement through.  “Is that anything like ‘badgering’, Ms. Krasivaya?”

            “Erm... yes.  My apologies your honor.”  She slumped slightly.  “These American idioms really drive me through a wall.”

            Scotty opened his mouth, but decided not to say anything.  “Objection sustained, Ms. Krasivaya.”  He turned to Harrow.  “Gilly?  Could you stop yelling at the witness and answer the question yourself?”

            “It’d be my American duty, your honor.”  Harrow saluted, clearing his throat.  “You see, I investigated the crime scene today” he explained, and I happened to find a certain file empty.”  He smashed his flag cane on the desk dramatically.  “Namely, a file marked ‘Cliff Bale’!”

            “GWAAAGH!” Bale said, shielding himself with his arms.

            “I also took the Liberty of researching your past, Mr. Bale.”  Harrow said, smiling almost sadistically.  “And you know what I found?  You have a criminal record.  For grand theft auto, I believe.”  He shook his head.  “Now I wonder, ladies and gentlemen of the court, how is it that a man with such a criminal record is serving in a courthouse of all places?  Surely, background checks are necessary for such work…”

            “Yeah, and no one wants to hire an ex-con, capice?” Bale muttered under his breath.  He gasped, and clapped a hand over his mouth.

            “Exactly!”  Harrow said, throwing his chest out triumphantly.  “Your honor, are you aware of the… ahem… unsavory rumors surrounding Judge Libra?”

            “You mean that he took bribes?”  Scotty said flatly.  “Yeah, I’ve heard a thing or two.”  From myself, yes, but…

            “Then is it hard to imagine that Judge Libra may have been taking a bribe to keep a certain bailiff’s past under wraps?”  Harrow smiled.  “I think not.”

            “It’s not hard to imagine, no.”  Scotty admitted.  “But you know as well as I do that imagination doesn’t do squat unless you have solid evidence, Gilly.”  He glanced over at the prosecution.  Something I’d have expected Madame Krasivaya to say, actually…

            “Very well then, your honor.”  Harrow smiled.  “I’ll simply have to present America’s masterstroke!  Take this!”  He pointed to a plaque among the evidence.  “Your honor, this is the plaque that Judge Libra received only yesterday for his extraordinary duties as judge!”  He pointed closely at the back.  “You will notice that there is a small piece of fabric stuck here… looks like a shirt cuff to me, actually.”  He pointed his cane accusingly at Bale.  “I’ve also noticed, Mr. Bale, that you have kept your sleeves rolled up for this entire trial!”  He slammed the cane down.  “America demands that you roll them down! NOW!”

            “Urgh….” Bale grunted, and then slumped down on the witness stand.  He rolled his sleeves down, revealing that his right cuff was missing a piece of material.

            “Tests will match the fabric on the back of this plaque to the piece missing from your shirt, correct, Mr. Bale?”

            “Y-yes…” Bale admitted.

            “And since the plaque was only installed yesterday,” Harrow smiled, “the only way you could have gotten your shirt caught on the back of it is if you yourself was the one who hit Judge Libra over the head!”

            “His killer, in other words!”

            “Wha… what? NO!” Bale shielded himself with his arms again.  “Alright, ok, I admit it!  I mean the hitting part and the bribe part.”  He looked away.  “Do you know how hard it is for an ex-con to find honest work?  That’s why a lot of us go back to crime, capice?”  He slumped slightly.  “Though, I suppose bribing a public official is a crime, even if it did end up giving me a decent job.”

            “Cliff?”  Scotty asked.  “You… did you do it?”

            “I just said I didn’t, didn’t I?”  Bale balked.  “I mean… ok, I went to his room that night… and he wanted more money, and the file was there, so I hit him over the head and took it.”  He frowned.  “But… I didn’t do it!  I never stabbed him with nothing, capice?”

            OBJECTION!

            “Mr. Bale!” Harrow yelled.  “Your key was the only one found at the scene!  You had already committed a violent act on the victim!”  He smashed his flag cane into the desk, and began to reconstruct the events of that night.  “My client, finding the door open, walked in on you, and you, afraid of what he witnessed, knocked him out as well, and dumped him into the closet!  You then found that fate had smiled on you, that you had the opportunity to silence Judge Libra once and for all!”  He thrust his chest out, jacket fluttering behind him.  “So you took the defendant’s stake, stabbed Judge Libra with it, and then planted your key in his vest pocket!”

            “This is the only version of events that makes sense, your honor!”

            Scotty gaped.  “Um… erm…”  Something… just doesn’t feel right about this for some reason…  “Ms. Krasivaya?  Anything?”  He looked over and saw that, if he didn’t know better, she was… he didn’t know better.  She was laughing.

            “Mr. Harrow!”  She said excitedly.  “I… thank you.”  She flicked her hair back confidently.  “You’ve all but proven my case for me.”

            Scotty raised his eyebrows.  “Oh?  And how is that, Ms. Krasivaya?”

            “The defense has proven,” Krasivaya explained, “that Mr. Bale has not changed his clothes since he was in the judge’s chambers, yes?”  She smiled.  “Yet the prosecution has proven that when Judge Libra was stabbed…”  She paused for dramatic effect.  “Blood left the body at such force that it traveled across the room and landed on robes in the closet!”  She slammed the wall behind her.

            “Considering the fact that in order stab Judge Libra twice and with such force, one would have to stand almost directly in front of him, why does Mr. Bale have no blood on his clothes?”

            “Well… um…” Scotty smiled slightly.  “Actually… that doesn’t make much sense, does it?”

            “No, it doesn’t, your honor.”  Krasivaya smiled.  “Which leads us to only one conclusion.”

            “The man who stabbed Judge Libra was the only other one in the room, Constantine VanHunt!”

            “SWEET LAND OF LIBERTY!” Harrow screamed as if in pain.  He leaned on his cane heavily, utterly defeated.

            Courtroom crowd go crazy!

            Bang! Bang!  “ORDER UP!” Scotty yelled.  “ORDEEEEEEEEER UUUUUUUP!”  ..My legs… oh my legs…

            After the crowd has calmed down considerably, Scotty cleared his throat.  “Gilly?  Did you have anything to add?”

            “No… there’s no way that a commie…” He attempted to regain his composure, but only succeeded somewhat.  “No… your honor, the defense rests.”

            “And Mr. VanHunt?”  Scotty offered.  “Did you want to say anything on your behalf?”

            “I DIDN’T DO IT!”

            “Yes... I expected as much, but anything else?”

            VanHunt looked over at Harrow, who shook his head slowly.  “Um…” VanHunt stuttered. “N-no, your honor.”

            “Very well then…” Scotty sighed.  “Court will take an hour recess… longer, if requested by the jury.”  He banged his gavel once.  “Consider the evidence carefully, and make your decision.  Oh, and Ms. Krasivaya?”

            “D-Da, your honor?”

            “A word with you in my chambers, as soon as court lets out, if you don’t mind.”

            “Not at all, your honor.” She nodded.

            “Very well then.” BANG!  “Court is now in recess!”

- Chambers of Scotty.  5/23.  12:24 pm.

            “Two things, Ms. Krasivaya” Scotty said, pacing slowly across his chambers.  “First off, I want to congratulate you on a… well, a genius prosecuting case.  The way you turned it around back there was simply amazing; there is no doubt in my mind whatsoever that the jury will convict.”

            “Thank you!” Krasivaya said, hugging Scotty and catching him by surprise.  She jumped back quickly, straightening herself out.  “Um… I’m sorry, your honor, but it’s my first trial and…”

            “And you’re happy to hear that your day in court was a successful one, yes.”  Scotty nodded.

            “Da… thanks for understanding, your honor.”  She smiled.  “And the second thing?”

            “Um…” Scotty scratched the back of his neck.  “It’s not really my place to say but…”  He sighed.  “VanHunt’s innocent.”

            Krasivaya’s face froze.  “W-what?”

            “VanHunt… he’s innocent, there’s not a doubt in my mind.”  He smiled apologetically.

            “B… based on what?”  Krasivaya taunted.  “When did you start thinking that?”

            “Well… right from the beginning of the trial, actually,” Scotty admitted.  “As a judge, it’s not my place to say, but when the autopsy report was presented…”  He pulled out a copy.  “Notice how it says here that ‘no foreign substances were found in the heart’?”

            “Da…” Krasivaya said hesitantly.

            “Well, the thing is” Scotty cocked his head.  “The stake was found in his chest.”  He frowned.  “If a wooden stake was stuck into the heart, pulled out, and inserted back into the chest… wouldn’t it leave splinters behind?”

            “N… not necessarily!”  Krasivaya lashed back.  “There’s a chance that it would leave nothing behind!”
            “A slim one, yes, but I’ll give you that” Scotty nodded.  “But I also noticed something else that makes me doubt his guilt.”  He flicked a photograph up from his desk.  “The crime photo.  Notice how there’s a key lying on the floor?”

            “Well, yes” Krasivaya nodded.  “My team took a picture of it in case it got lost… it’s Bale’s key, the one that VanHunt used to get in the room…”

            “Except it’s not.” Scotty said bluntly.  “Bale’s key is marked ‘l1’… but if you look closely at the key in this picture…’

            Krasivaya squinted, and then gasped.  “No… nooooooo!” She began to pull at her hair.  “One… ‘1l’?”  She shook her head.  “What kind of marking system does this court have anyway… issuing such similar looking keys?”

            “Quite idiotic, isn’t it?  I almost missed it myself.  Furthermore…” Scotty cracked his neck.  “This key hasn’t been presented as evidence… which makes me think someone removed it somehow.”  He was silent for a minute.  “You understand what this means, right?”

            “An innocent man could very well be sentenced to death…”

            “And we won’t be able to do anything about it… yeah.”  Scotty sighed heavily.  “As judge, even if I want to, I can’t change the jury’s verdict… and since I’m supposed to be impartial during trials, I can’t say things that could help either side.”  Scotty shook his head, completely oblivious to the fact that he in fact could overrule a jury verdict.  When he found out a month later that this was within his power he, quite literally, kicked himself.

            “Which is why you couldn’t tell me before it was too late…” Krasivaya sniffed.  “But… I don’t want to convict an innocent man on my first trial!”

            “Words to live by, ma’am!”

            Spade bounded into the room, springing to a salute.  “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation,” he barked apologetically.  “And quite frankly, I’m… I’m proud of you, Ms. Krasivaya!”  He scratched the back of his neck.  “So much for those crazies who said you’d be corrupt and unfeeling, huh?”

            “Yes…” Krasivaya said, hunching over slightly.  “But… let’s not…”

            “Corrupt and unfeeling?” Scotty asked.  “Who on earth was worried you’d be like that?  And… well, why?”

            “It’s nothing worth mentioning,” Krasivaya interrupted quickly.  “It’s just that some individuals… more than one, actually… still haven’t realized that the Cold War is over.”

            Spade cleared his throat loudly, and stared accusingly at Scotty.

            “Why are you looking at me?”  My. Legs.  “If you want to help, stop accusing me of discrimination and… um…”  Scotty scratched his head.  “Do something?”

            “Detective… could you run a search through courthouse records?  See who the key ‘1l’ belongs to?” Tanya asked, seeing that Scotty was floundering.

            “Of course I can!”  Spade said, saluting again.  And then, faster than a speeding bullet, he slowly traipsed out the door.  (Wait, what?)

            Scotty shook his head to clear his mind.  “Right… um…”  He turned to the prosecutor.  “Krasivaya, you’re willing to help too, right?”

            “I am!  Da, of course I am!”  She said, springing to a salute.

            “Don’t copy him,” Scotty scolded, shaking his head.  “Anyway, I need to speak with VanHunt alone.”  Scotty put his hand on the back of his neck.  “He’s not telling us everything, and anything could help his case right now.  Is there any way you can get Gilly away from him?”

            Krasivaya’s eyes narrowed, and she shifted uncomfortably.  “Well… I suppose I could… distract Harrow, yes…”

-Defendant’s Lobby.  5/23.  12:10 pm.

            “Oh... Gilly?”  Came a cute voice from the hallway.

            What was it George Carlin said about women and sweaters?  Gilford Harrow never stood a chance.

            “I was wondering,” Krasivaya asked shyly, “if you could teach me how to be more American?”  She put on a sobbing face.  “It’s just so hard to learn all of these customs and idioms and such…”

            “Erm, well… yes!  Of course!”  Harrow said, walking quickly towards the hall.  “Um, ah!  Your honor!”  He clapped Scotty, who just happened to have been walking by, on the back.  “Keep an eye on my client, will you?”

            “Um… well…” Scotty hesitated.

            “THANKS!”  Harrow put his arm around Krasivaya’s shoulder and began to explain the basic principles of American culture, in excruciating detail.

            “He… he abandoned me!”  VanHunt yelled, striking an over exaggerated sorrow pose.  “He left me just for his own… ‘American’ values!”

            “Wait until he remembers she’s only seventeen, right?”  Scotty laughed.

            “HA!” VanHunt chortled.  He stopped, and suddenly gave Scotty a suspicious look.  “Wait…” He ran the entire scenario through his head.  “You planned this all, didn’t you?” He yelled, striking a heroically defiant pose.

            “Heh.  You’re not as stupid as I thought you were,” Scotty complimented.  “Yeah… actually, I need to talk to you…”

            “I reserve my right to silence!”  VanHunt asserted forcefully.  “Nothing you can say will make me divulge anything without my attorney present!”

            “I know you’re innocent.”

            “Except maybe that,” VanHunt conceded.  “What did you want to know again?”

            “For some reason or another, Harrow’s been keeping you from saying something,” Scotty goaded.  “Well?  It’s not like you can do much worse than you already are.”

            “Right… well…” VanHunt paused.  “Mr. Ha— Gilly more or less said it in court today.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “Well…” VanHunt explained.  “The whole thing about my entering the room, being hit over the head with something, being moved to the closet and having the key planted in my vest…” VanHunt nodded softly.  “That’s what happened to me.”

            “Why didn’t you testify about that, then?”  Scotty scolded.  “That would have been enough to keep the trial going longer at the very least!”

            “Gilly told me it sounded too… convenient,” VanHunt explained.  “He said that if I said it, it would just sound like a killer’s fabricated story, but if he explained it, it would sound more like an attorney’s brilliant deduction.”

            “A bit egocentric, isn’t he?”  Scotty commented.

            “Quite…” VanHunt admitted.  “But he’s the best in the business, so I trusted him.”  He scratched his head.  “Only, there’s one thing that he left out. Kind of surprised he didn’t mention it, actually.”

            Scotty raised his eyebrows.  “What’s that?”

            “Well… Judge Libra’s reflection…”  VanHunt bit his lip.  “I saw it.  I knew he wasn’t a vampire.”

            “WHAAAAAT?” Scotty yelled.  “Then why didn’t you… how could you not…”  He banged his head with his gavel.  “How?”

            “With this…” VanHunt said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a hand mirror with a handle shaped like a cross.  “I use this as the final test to see whether a person is a vampire or not…”  He pointed to the glass.  “It’s a two-way mirror, so I can see whether the person has a reflection and shield myself behind the cross simultaneously.”  He looked away.  “I saw Judge Libra’s reflection right before I was knocked out… he was already dead then.”

            Scotty took the mirror and examined it.  “Um… Mr. VanHunt?”  He asked.  “How did you manage to keep this from the police when they searched you?”

            “I must have dropped it when I was hit” VanHunt explained.  “I escaped this morning, remember?  Well I immediately ran back to the scene and looked for it… I eventually found it under the desk.”

            Which explains why he tried to ‘hide’ under the desk, doesn’t it?  Scotty flipped the mirror over, and his eyes bulged.  “Mr. VanHunt!  The… there’s blood on this mirror!”

            “WHAT? WHERE?”  VanHunt said, stealing the mirror back.  He found the bloodstain, and his mouth dropped open.  “How did I miss that?  Right on the handle too…”

-Vampire-hunting mirror: A two-way mirror with a cross-shaped, somewhat sharp handle.  It smells like it’s been dipped in garlic.  Unidentified blood on the handle.

            “DO YOU KNOW WHAT HE DID?” Came an angry voice from the hall.  Krasivaya stormed into the room, looking flustered.  “DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT PERVERTED OLD LOOT TRIED TO DO?”

            “Did it deserve a slap?”  Scotty asked nonchalantly.

            “IT DESERVED THREE!” Krasivaya yelled.  “He’s unconscious right now, actually… but that’s what you get for pinching a girl’s shoulder.”

            Scotty began to laugh, but stopped mid-breath.  “The…. Shoulder?”  He cocked his head, confused.  “That’s not exactly…”

            “Scotty!” Krasivaya screamed. “You don’t know what I just went through…”  She shuddered.  “And he’s the definition of defense attorney around here… are all of them so…”

            “It’s not just attorneys,” Scotty explained, “it’s single American men in general; just look at VanHunt here.”

            “Wha?” VanHunt jumped.  “HEY! WHAT DID I DO?”

            “You do a good job covering it up, but you can just tell that you’re secretly hoping she’ll explain what she went through in detail.”  Scotty laughed.  “Hell, I’d probably be doing it too if I wasn’t married… and some married men would still do it,” He shook his head.  “Anyway, Ms. Krasivaya, here.”  He handed her the mirror.  “See if you can get Spade to run a blood test on that thing, will you?  It just might be what we need to turn this thing around.”

            Krasivaya nodded.  “Da, right away, your honor.”  She ran off hurriedly.

            Scotty shook his head.  “I worry, sometimes, VanHunt.”

            “About?”

            “Krasivaya, of course.”  He sighed.  “She’s so young, so impressionable, and living on her own in a foreign country.”  He shook his head again.  “I just hope she doesn’t get the wrong idea, you know?  And that she doesn’t get too wrapped up in her work.  And that she finds a nice man who’ll be able to put up with…”  He groaned.  “Since when do I care?  And why am I telling all of this to you, again?”  My legs…

            “Because you won’t help me get declared innocent unless I keep my mouth shut about it?”  VanHunt offered.

            “Ooh!  Good one!  I hadn’t thought of that.”

-District Courthouse.  Courtroom 7. 5/23.  1:00 pm.

            “Court will now reconvene for the trial of Constantine VanHunt,” Scotty said, tapping his gavel lightly on the desk.  “Before we hear the jury’s verdict, though, I believe closing statements are in order.”  He cleared his throat.  “I urge you, ladies and gentlemen, to listen carefully.  If something new comes up that could change the court’s opinion on this case, it should be given strong consideration.”  He nodded once.  “Gilly?  Your closing statement?”

            “America… doesn’t have much to say, your honor.” Harrow said, rubbing his head in pain.  “Except that when a great power meets its match, congratulations are in order.”  He nodded towards Krasivaya.  “You’ve earned the respect of America, devochka… though you really didn’t have to knock me unconscious for… erm…”

            “There are places you should never pinch a Russian, Gilly” Krasivaya replied coldly.  “You’ll do good to remember that in the future.”

            Harrow groaned.  “But it was the shoulder for America’s sake…”

            “Do you know how sensual a shoulder is, Harrow?” Krasivaya screamed.  “DO YOU?”

            “Erm… Ms. Krasivaya?”  Scotty said, peering out from under his desk.  “Your statement, if you would?”

            “I reserve my statement temporarily, your honor,” Krasivaya began, breathing deeply to calm herself down.  “During the recess, Mr. VanHunt approached me, requesting to testify.” She shrugged.  “While I doubt it can help his case at all, it’s the court’s duty to hear him out, isn’t it?”

            Scotty nodded.  “Yes, that probably would have been the most reasonable thing I’ve heard today… if it weren’t for the particular person being called to testify.”  He cleared his throat.  “Nevertheless, you’re right.  It is the ‘American court’s’ duty to make sure that no testimony is left unheard.”

            OBJECTION!

            “Mr. VanHunt!” Harrow exclaimed.  “I know things look bad right now… but I urge you, be reasonable!”  He shook his head, despairing.  “If you say what I think you’re going to say… it’ll only make things worse!  For America’s sake, we can always appeal the decision!”

            “I’m sorry, Gilly, but…” VanHunt cleared his throat.  “I… I know what I’m saying is the truth.”  He paused in thought for a long moment, and then struck a gallant pose.  “And the mighty VanHunt’s job, first and foremost, is to inform the public of the truth!”

            “However improbable, impossible and inaccurate it may be,” Scotty mumbled under his breath.  “Very well then, Mr. VanHunt, you may testify about … what did you want to testify about?”

            OBJECTION!
            “Mr. VanHunt…” Harrow said, leaning heavily on his flag cane, “you leave me no choice but to resort to colonial tactics.”  He banged his flagstaff on his desk.  “Your honor, the defense has rested, and has therefore given up its right to bring forth and interrogate new witnesses!”  He thrust his chest out, hard.  “None of what the defendant says can be taken as testimony!”  He saluted apologetically towards VanHunt.  “Sorry, son, but it’s for your own good, trust me.”

            “Gilly…” Scotty pondered.  “That’s a very valid, if not sneaky, objection you just offered.”  He banged his gavel.  “Overruled.”

            “WHAT?” Harrow screamed.  “On… on what grounds?”

            “Well… quite frankly…” Scotty shrugged.  “I could honestly care less about procedure in my courtroom… hell, if you wanted to give your closing statement during the pre-trial hearing, I’d just kick back and listen!”  He shook his head.  “Isn’t the main point here to find the truth?  And in order to ensure we find it, we have to hear everyone’s side of the story, no matter how ludicrous it may seem or how unorthodox and even quasi-legal it may be.”  He nodded firmly.  “And that’s how trials will be running from now on… any questions?”

            “Yes,” Harrow offered weakly, “Is it possible for you to hold yourself in contempt of court?”

            “Probably” Scotty nodded.  “But why would I do a silly thing like that?  Kind of defeats the purpose, doesn’t it?”  He shook his head in disbelief.  “Oh Gilly, what am I going to do with you?  Any other objections?”

            Harrow thought a moment, and sighed.  “No.  I suppose there’s no stopping it.  The defense is perfectly fine with calling Mr. VanHunt as a witness.”

            Good! Anyway,” Scotty cleared his throat.  “Mr. VanHunt?  Now that all interruptions have hopefully been dealt with, could you explain what you’d like to testify about?”

            “Well…” A pause of uncertainty.  “The day of the crime…” VanHunt explained.  “I think… I think I might’ve been a witness to the murder.”

            Overall shock and disbelief emanated from the crowd.

            “I don’t care if you believe me or not!” the ‘vampire hunter’ yelled, striking a dauntless pose.  He stopped for a minute, and reconsidered.  “Well… I care if you believe me, Judge Scotty… and Ms. Krasivaya, and Gilly, and you jury members… but everyone else can be buried alive, for all I care!”

            “Exactly why I didn’t want him testifying…” Harrow explained.  “As you can see, even though he doesn’t mean to… he can use quite violent imagery.”

            “Yes well, we’ll see whether this ordeal hurts or harms his case after this is through,” Scotty said, rubbing his RLS-suffering legs for temporary relief.  “Mr. VanHunt?  We’ve been waiting.”

            “Yes, well,” VanHunt began, “I went to Judge Libra’s office for the reason Ms. Krasivaya said originally. I really did think that the late judge was a vampire at first.  But just to make sure, I took my special vampire-checking mirror with me!  When I opened the door, mirror held directly in front of me to protect me from an attack, I saw it!  Judge Libra was already on the floor, and somebody was pulling something out of his chest!”  He shuddered.  “As experienced a hunter I was, seeing the blood splatter across the room was still enough to make me scream… that’s when the killer went for me!  Unfortunately, I never saw his face… he was dressed all in black, and even had a hood on.”  VanHunt hung his head, a bit ashamed of himself.  “And then he knocked me out.  I woke up in cuffs.”  He slammed his head on the witness stand.  “Overtaken by a mere mortal!  Even the mighty VanHunt has his off days, I suppose.”

            “As contrived and convenient as I was afraid it would sound, Mr. VanHunt” Harrow sighed.  “Very well.  Scotty?  I suppose you want me to cross-examine now?”

            “Well… actually…” Scotty ruffled his hair back and forth slightly, “This is your witness, Gilly.”  He messed up his hair further, closing his eyes and smiling almost foolishly.  “Doesn’t that mean… that the prosecution does the cross-examination?”

            “Da,” Krasivaya said, nodding slowly.  “Glad to see you learned something from taking the bar exam, your honor.”

            “Um…” Scotty blushed.  “Incidentally? I never passed the bar… I don’t even have a law degree…” He smiled even wider.  “I just learned that from Perry Mason, I believe.”

            “Amazing that such a young person knows that the show existed, really…” Harrow muttered.  “And that the state would allow a cartography major to become a judge…”

            “Isn’t it?” Scotty chuckled.  Well, at least someone else sees something wrong with this. “Either way, Ms. Krasivaya?  I believe the floor is yours.”

            “Thank you, your honor” Krasivaya said, clearing her throat.  “Mr. VanHunt, just to verify whether you’re telling the truth or not… you said that this ‘killer’ was pulling something out of Judge Libra’s chest?”

            “Well…” VanHunt thought.  “I mean, quite honestly I couldn’t tell you exactly where he was pulling it out of but… it was somewhere around there… probably closer to the heart then the center of the chest.”

            “And the ‘mirror’ you said you were using” Krasivaya continued.  “It is the same one you gave as evidence?”

            “Yeah… the very same!”

            OBJECTION!

            “Your honor!  The defense was not made aware of the presence of such evidence!”  Harrow smacked his cane down on his desk.  “Such an act violates disclosure!  I FILE FOR A MISTRIAL!”

            BOЗPAЖEHИE!

            “Mr. Harrow, as gallant of an attempt as that was to save your client, I’m afraid it won’t work.”  She whipped her hair around, almost enjoying herself.  “First, such action only violates disclosure if I’m asked for such evidence… and I’m quite sure you never did anything of the sort.  Second…” she smiled.  “The mirror is currently under forensic testing by the department.  It is unknown whether or not it has any application to the case at hand… although…” She turned back to VanHunt.  “I believe that there was some blood on the mirror, Mr. VanHunt?”

            “Well… yes.  There was some blood on the handle… I actually only noticed that just before handing it over, there wasn’t all that much.”

            “Yet there was enough blood sprayed during the stabbing to launch across the room and completely splotch your shirt?”  Krasivaya inquired.  “That doesn’t seem to make much sense, does it?”

            “Now you see that’s the thing…” VanHunt thought.  “When Judge Libra was stabbed… or rather, when I saw the killer pull the weapon out… I’m pretty sure none of the blood actually hit me.”

            Silence.

            “Mr. VanHunt…” Harrow offered.  “How can you even claim something like that?  Isn’t your shirt proof enough that you were hit during the spray?”

            Krasivaya thought for a minute, and then nodded.  “That does seem very logical, Mr. VanHunt.  Do you still insist on your testimony?”

            “Well… yes!”  VanHunt said after a bit of thought.  “I’m sure of it!  None of the blood actually hit me!”

            OBJECTION!

            “But that doesn’t make sense!”  Harrow yelled.  “Your honor, as you can see, my client’s memory is faulty at best, most likely from his unstable mental state!”  He slammed his cane on the ground, actually tearing a hole in the carpet with its point.  “There is no proof to back up this claim… in fact, all evidence points to the contrary!”

            ORDER UP!

            “Erm… actually…” Scotty said, not exactly sure where the sudden role-reversal had come from.  “Since neither of you noticed this, I suppose it falls to me, but… Mr. VanHunt, you said you were holding the mirror directly in front of you, yes?”

            “Yes… that’s right.”  VanHunt nodded.  “I always hold it right out in front of my chest at arms length, so that I can repel vampires and see if my intended target is a demon or not at the same time!”

            “Well then, what you’re saying actually makes sense.”  Scotty said, nodding.  “I mean, if the initial splatter from the removal of the weapon had hit you… the glass of the mirror… not to mention the rest of it… would be as splotched with blood as your shirt, wouldn’t it?”

            “AHA!”  VanHunt yelled.  “That… that’s exactly what I was trying to say… except, well, I didn’t know how to say it that accurately.”

            OBJECTION!

            “Your honor, you are supposed to remain an impartial mediator in this trial!”  Harrow shook his head, leaning on his cane.  “As much as America appreciates the help… it’s not legally right!  You can’t just go around pointing out contradictions yourself!”

            ORDER UP!

            “Actually, I believe I did remain impartial, Gilly.”  Scotty said sternly.  “I merely pointed out a fact that, judging from the testimony, would appear to be true.  I don’t know whose case it helps… and quite frankly, I don’t care.  And another thing…” he massaged his legs for comfort and confidence.  “It also falls within the duties of a magistrate to examine all pieces of evidence independently of the prosecution and defense, yes?  I’m quite sure I was doing my job perfectly well, Mr. Harrow… I would appreciate it if you stopped trying to poke holes in my credibility.”  Hey wait a minute… for a minute there it sounded like I cared about this job…huh.

            BOЗPAЖEHИE!

            “Et tu, Ms. Krasivaya?”  Scotty asked melodramatically.  “What’s your objection, now?”

            “Well it’s just…” Krasivaya pulled on her hair slightly.  “If the victim’s blood didn’t get on the mirror, then when did it? I mean, if I think the whole thing throughout…” she ran the crime through her head.  “If Mr. VanHunt speaks the truth, then the next thing that happens is he’s knocked about!  Since the initial police search didn’t produce the mirror, I can only assume that he dropped it.”

            “And then later, when I achieved a temporary burst of freedom,” VanHunt added, “I ran back to crime scene and found it under the judge’s desk.”

            “The entire thing, then, begs two questions,” Krasivaya mused:  “Firstly, if the blood splatter didn’t hit you then, when and why is your shirt covered in blood?  And Secondly, and possibly more importantly, when did blood find its way onto the mirror, and why only on its handle?”

            Scotty nodded thoughtfully.  “Hmmm… yes.  Well, seeing as the police investigation of the scene didn’t find the mirror, I doubt the killer noticed it in his hurry to cover his tracks and flee the scene.”

            “Which dismisses the idea that the blood was planted to frame Mr. VanHunt, yes?” Krasivaya added.

            OBJECTION!

            “It couldn’t have just landed slightly in the victim’s blood, and then slid under the desk?”  Harrow offered.  “That seems like the most reasonable assumption, considering the only person bleeding at the time of the killing was…well, the victim.”

            “Unless… wait!”  VanHunt started.  “I remember something!”

            “Do tell, Mr. VanHunt” Scotty signaled.

            “Well, there’s a chance it could have just been me,” VanHunt admitted, “but… right before I blacked out… I heard someone gasp quickly… not a scream per se, but let out a cry of pain, nonetheless.”  He scratched his head, unsure of himself.  “Maybe… like something flew past him, and cut him slightly?  I keep that mirror’s handle intentionally sharp, you know, just in case zombies get added to our list of problems in this world.”

            “I’ll pretend I didn’t here that last part,” Scotty groaned, “and just say: Oh my gosh!  That’s brilliant, Mr. VanHunt!  The blood on your mirror’s handle could very well prove your innocence!.”

            “Then by all means, lets call the police department,” Krasivaya offered.  “Perhaps they haven’t finished testing yet… but there’s always a chance!”

            OBJECTION!

            “Ms. Krasivaya, Judge Scotty…” Harrow growled.  “For a prosecutor and an impartial judge, you seem awfully willing to consider the possibility of another person committing the crime.”  [B1] He shook his head drearily.  “What’s the American justice system coming to?  Am I the only one who is willing to believe that the blood could have gotten onto the handle sometime after the murder, yet before Mr. VanHunt retrieved it?”

            BOЗPAЖEHИE!

            “For a defense attorney, Mr. Harrow, you seem awfully attached to the prospect that your client is guilty.”  Krasivaya pointed out.

            “It’s not that!”  Harrow snapped.  “I believe in the American justice system as it is!”  He thrust his chest out, showing no shame.  “It’s my job, and only my job, to consider alternative possibilities, and it is your job to counter them.  For you to propose that my client is innocent, as good as it is for me, is still un-American.”

            “I’m not entirely sure if that’s all a prosecutor is, Mr. Harrow…” Krasivaya said thoughtfully.  “And as for what you suggested earlier, I suppose that is a possibility, and we should consider it… though it seems highly unlikely.  After all, in order for the mirror to remain unnoticed, it was probably completely covered by the desk, meaning that even if someone cut him or herself at the scene, the blood probably wouldn’t fall onto it.”  Krasivaya cleared her throat.  “However, seeing as the blood on the handle being the killer’s is also a possibility, we must also check into such, it’s only right.  We’d have checked for the results of the test regardless.” 

            She flipped her cell phone open.  “If you would… just one moment.”  The courtroom quieted down.  “This is Krasivaya speaking.  Yes.  Yes?  Really now?  That is pretty rare, isn’t it?  Well check it against courthouse records; there can’t be that many.  And call right back as soon as you find it, understand?”  She hung up.

            “What was that all about?”  Harrow asked, eyes narrowed.

            “Well, one thing we know for sure is that the blood on the handle isn’t Judge Libra’s blood.”  Krasivaya related.  “Libra’s blood type was, as previously stated, O+, while the blood found on the handle was AB-…” she paused.  “Incidentally, that’s the rarest blood type in the world, never rising over 1% of the population in any given country. I wouldn’t be surprised if we got a call back…”

            The phone rang.  Krasivaya answered it, listened for five seconds, and snapped it shut.  “… within a few seconds,” she finished.

            “And?”  Scotty asked.  “Whose blood is it?”

            “Well… while blood tests have yet to confirm anything,” Krasivaya said cautiously,  “the only person who has that blood type on courthouse staff,” she paused, “is Cliff Bale.”

            “As expec… wait, WHAAAAAAT?”  Scotty yelled.  That’s not what I thought at all!  “Are you sure about that?”

            “Absolutely, your honor” Krasivaya nodded.  “It was as simple as running the staff’s medical insurance forms through a computer. Bale was the only result that came up.”

            “Cliff,” Scotty said, shocked, “looks like you’re under the gun again, huh?”

            “I didn’t do anything, capice?  I ain’t never even seen that mirror before!” Bale objected.

            “Well you wouldn’t have, would you?”  Krasivaya reasoned.  “If you had… you’d have gone and removed the evidence, wouldn’t you?”

            “Well… yeah… but…” Bale sputtered.

            “Cliff…” Scotty said sympathetically.  “I’m afraid right now, you’re our primary suspect.  We’ll have to hear your testimony once more… Mr. VanHunt?  Excellent work, actually.  You may step down.”

            Harrow let out a deep sigh of relief.  “Well then… I guess that that testimony of yours wasn’t as damaging as I thought it would be, Mr. VanHunt!”  He smiled sadly.  “Quite sorry that I didn’t trust you actually, would you accept an American’s apology?”

            VanHunt was silent, as if lost deep in thought.

            “Mr. VanHunt?”  Harrow tried again.  “I… don’t often offer such condolences to my clients… usually because I’m not as badly wrong as with this case… don’t you have anything to say?”

            “Mm?  Oh, yes!  Um, sorry Gilly!  Yes, thank you.” VanHunt quickly said.  “It’s nice to know that I could prove my own innocence, but…”  He slumped over dramatically.  “Well, I know what it’s like to be falsely accused of a crime, and I’m not sure I want to be let go at the expense of another innocent man…”

            “Innocent?”  Harrow bolted upright, digging his cane into the floor.  “Why do you say he’s innocent?  Didn’t I prove well enough, before Krasivaya’s seemingly masterful counterattack, that Bale had motive, means, and opportunity to kill Judge Libra?  His blood at the scene only proves it all the more!  Not only that…” He smirked.  “But, assuming that you, at the scene of the crime, could avoid being sprayed by the blood, why not Mr. Bale?  That would nicely sort out that little contradiction that Ms. Krasivaya supposedly ‘wrapped the case up’ with.”

            “Well yeah, but… here’s the thing…”VanHunt said.  “Remember how, in my testimony, I said that the killer I saw was wearing all black?”

            Krasivaya bolted upright, grabbed the stenographer’s sheets, flipped through them, and crumpled onto the desk in exasperation.  “Da… you did say that.”  She pulled at her hair.  “How didn’t I catch that?”

            “Well, speaking from professional opinion,” Harrow offered, “I’ve noticed that a lot of people that witness a murder but can’t recognize the killer often say the person was in all black, even if it isn’t true.”  He shook his head.  “A subconscious defense mechanism, I believe.  Most people just overlook it.”

            Yeah, but wait!

            “The thing is…” VanHunt objected, “even if I do allow myself room to doubt whether the clothes were black or not, I can say for certain that they weren’t white!”  He pointed dramatically at Bale.  “Particularly not as bright and obnoxious a white as what our bailiff is wearing.”

            “You wanna take this outside, punk?”  Bale yelled, rolling up his sleeves.

            “I’m trying to help you, moron!”  VanHunt yelled back, striking an unabashed pose of conceit.  “Like you could take me, anyway!”

            “Mr. VanHunt…” Scotty said softly, ignoring Cliff’s outburst, “You… even though this trial could have been decided in your favor long ago… you’re still insisting we continue?”  He shook his head in amazement.  “Such dedication to the truth… it’s uncommon these days, you know?”

            “Sadly, yes…” Harrow acknowledged.  “I’ll admit it… if we attorneys only sought the truth and nothing else, most of us would be out of a job…”

            “If I ever found an attorney like that, I’d probably fall in love with him…” Krasivaya commented.

            “Can I count, even though I’m not an attorney?” VanHunt asked hopefully.

            “How old are you again?”

            “Erm... 28?”

            “Right… no.”  Krasivaya smiled apologetically.  “Sorry, but… I’m into younger guys, admittedly.”

            “Oh…” VanHunt put on a moping face.

            BANG! BANG!  “ORDER UP!”  Yelled Scotty.  “The trial?”  And my legs? He stopped, and scratched his head.  “Come to think of it, where does this leave us?”

            “Well, the defendant emphatically insists,” Harrow explained, “that Mr. Bale is innocent of all charges.  That does present a problem however…” He gulped.  “Seeing as it’s been proven previously that Mr. Bale and Mr. VanHunt were the only two people to enter the room before the police arrived.”  He hung his head, leaning heavily on his flagpole cane.  “He has, in effect, incriminated himself… again.”

            “That doesn’t seem very fair,” Scotty commented, “but that is about where we are, isn’t it?” 

            “Only two people to enter the…” Krasivaya thought aloud.  “AH!”  She stood bolt upright again, pulling her hair even harder.  “Slava Bogu, how did I forget that?”

            “Hm?  Forget what, Ms. Krasivaya?”  Scotty asked.

            “Ahem… the prosecution was notified,” Krasivaya said, careful not to name Scotty, “that there stood reason to doubt whether only two people had entered Judge Libra’s chambers that night.”

            “Hm?”  Harrow said, straightening up a little.  “Another piece of withheld evidence, Ms. Krasivaya?”

            “Well, no, actually,” she explained.  “It’s in an already existent piece of evidence… the crime scene photo actually.”  She produced a copy.  “Do you see here, how the key in this photograph reads ‘1l’… but the key found in Mr. VanHunt’s pocket was marked ‘l1’!”

            “Ah!”  Scotty said, legitimately surprised.  “Why yes!  That would appear to be the case, wouldn’t it?”  Come to think of it, I remember hearing that somewhere before… oh wait.  I was the one who first noticed it.  So much for looking intelligent.

            “SWEET FREEDOM’S SONG!” Harrow yelled in surprise, snapping Scotty out of his thoughts.  “What… how…”

            “That’s right!”  Krasivaya said, still berating herself for not remembering earlier.  “I even had Detective Spade check into who it belonged to, and he dropped the results off.”  She buried her face in her hand.  “Come to think of it, I haven’t even read the report yet.”  She sighed, flipped through her files, and found the paper.  Her jaw dropped, and her eyes widened.  “Wha… what the goose?”  Without saying anything else, she handed the paper to Scotty.”

            Scotty perused the article for a moment, ensuring that what he was seeing was valid, and closed his gaping mouth with his hand.  “Well… it would appear that key ‘1l’… belongs to none other than you, Gilly.”

            The entire courtroom was silent for a moment.  Harrow chuckled.  “Now that’s a bit ridiculous, isn’t it?”

            “I… Is that all you have to say for yourself?”  Scotty recoiled.

            “Well, I don’t really have to spell it out for you all, do I?”  Harrow asked.  He looked around, noticed that no one was offering to explain, and sighed.  “Motive.  Or rather, a lack thereof.”  He shrugged.  “I’d assume that you’re going to accuse me of the murder now, and before you even start I’d like to know the answer to a simple question: why?”  He shook his head.  “As I said earlier, to convict a man with out a motive is simply un-American.  Can anyone here offer any sort of explanation as to why I would want Judge Libra dead?”

            “Um…” Krasivaya struggled for words.  “I… well; I’m not exactly the one to ask that, seeing as I’m a bit new here…”

            “Same goes for me too, though at least I’ve been living inside the country,” Scotty commented.  “Erm… I guess… yeah, we can’t try him without motive, can we?”  He bit his lip, shook his head, and sighed.  “Well then… the court will strike the prosecution’s movement to indict the defense!”

            WAIT JUST A DARN MINUTE!

            “Judge Scotty, sir!”  Bale yelled.  “Wait!  I… I think I might know…”

            OBJECTION!

            “Oh now that would be convenient, wouldn’t it?”  Harrow snarled.  “One of the primary suspects coming up with another man’s motive for the very crime he’s charged with?”  He pointed his flagstaff accusingly.  “This entire court is treading on thin legal ice as it is!  I’ve been made a suspect through ‘evidence’ that one suspect had brought to light, and now I’m to be given a ‘motive’ by the other?  This is un-American!”

            “Then let’s… not have Mr. Bale testify.”  Krasivaya offered.

            Scotty flinched visibly.  “Ms. Krasivaya?  Are you… abandoning your bid to indict the defense?”

            “No, your honor.”  Krasivaya said, actually smiling.  “It’s just occurred to me, if we wanted someone to testify about Mr. Harrow’s motive… why not choose a coworker?  Someone who knew both Libra and Harrow for an extended period of time?”

            “That would be ideal yes” Scotty nodded.  “But…ah!”  His eyes lit up.  “You mean…”

            “Mhm!”  Krasivaya said, nodding her head quickly. “The prosecution recalls Detective Tracy Spade to the stand!”

            “BOOOOOOOOOYAAAAAAAH!” The detective yelled exuberantly, almost before Tanya was finished speaking.  “Ready to go as always, ma’am!” He barked, springing to another salute.

            “Detective Spade…” Tanya smiled, thinking back.  “If I recall correctly, you said earlier that there were some individuals staffed here that were… um… less than happy with my appointment here from Russia?”

            “Well, yeah…” Spade mused, scratching his half beard.  “But I’m pretty sure Judge Scotty isn’t a killer, ma’am…”

            “I’M! NOT! RACIST!” Scotty yelled.  “Erm…” he scratched his head.  “Racist?  Is that what I’d call it if I were against Russians?”

            “Well… no.”  Spade said, grinning broadly.  “Actually, according to what I’ve heard from Mr. Harrow a few times, that’s what’s called being ‘American.’”

            Silence.

            “Erm…” Spade said, looking around frantically.  The silence was making him nervous.  “I… I’m not American, mind you!”  He paused. “Well… I am American, but… I…” He put his hands out in a defensive posture.  “I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!”

            “We’re not accusing you of anything, detective…” Scotty comforted flatly.

            “Yes, detective, it’s nothing to blow a casket over,” Tanya reassured genuinely.  “Actually, you should be quite proud of yourself.”  She smiled broadly.  “You may have just given us our case.”

            “Happy to be of service, ma’am” Spade said with a bow.

            OBJECTION!

            “Oh, come now,” Harrow said mockingly.  “What kind of case is this?  Are you saying that I killed Judge Libra because I don’t like you?”  He shook his head in disbelief.  “I think if that was my motive, we’d be investigating someone else’s murder, no?”

            “But I don’t have any power over you, now do I?”  Tanya countered quickly.

            “Wha…?”

            “Mr. Harrow, I happened to have met with Judge Libra on my first day of appointment here,” Tanya related.  “And you know what he told me?  That I needn’t worry about any protestors.”  She smiled, showing a full set of pearly white teeth.  “Because if anyone did anything to sprain the relationship between our two countries, he’d be disbarred, almost immediately.”

            “You mean…” Scotty said, taking it all in.  “That Harrow, as blatantly anti-Russian as he is, would have been out of a job… just like that.”  He nodded.  “That certainly does add up to quite a motive, especially considering the trouble our economy is going through these days…”

            OBJECTION!

            Harrow laughed, leaning on his flagstaff for support.  “Alright fine, I’ll admit it, Libra told me that I couldn’t call you a communist, so what?”  He shook his head condescendingly.  “Do you think that’s a strong enough motive for murder?  Besides, even if you do take that as a motive… a stretch at best, I still hold that it’s impossible for me to have entered the room!”  He explained. “Even though I am a true American patriot, I am a private defense attorney.  I’m not a member of courthouse staff at all!”  He shook his head.  “It doesn’t make any sense that I’d have a key, does it?  Someone must have messed up in records, is all.”

            BOЗPAЖEHИE!

            “Actually…” Krasivaya said, relieved at the fact that she wasn’t missing everything, “Detective Spade testified to something interesting earlier in the trial…”

            -Flashback-

            “A question before we go on...” Scotty queried warily.  “Exactly how many and what kind of people are allowed to have keys to my chambers?”

            “Courthouse staff, mostly” Spade answered.  “Prosecutors, bailiffs, state defenders, and a few higher-ups in the police force.”  He scratched his five o’clock shadow, which only covered half his face.  “A few keys are issued to private attorneys who are hired a lot, too.”

            -End Flashback-

            “Mr. Harrow” Krasivaya accused heatedly.  “You are the definition of ‘defense attorney of defense attorneys’ in this town, Da?”  She slammed her hand against the back wall.  “Is it not conceivable that you have been issued a key?”

            “O thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand!” Harrow reeled.

            “But I’m not done yet!”  Krasivaya yelled, growing in confidence.  “As you yourself stated earlier, you aren’t a member of courthouse staff!  If we ran a test to find people in courthouse staff that have blood type AB-, you wouldn’t come up!”

            “Your honor!  I request that we investigate Mr. Harrow’s medical records!  If he turns up to be blood type AB-, it could very well be his blood on the mirror’s handle, and not Mr. Bale’s!”

            Scotty banged his gavel to settle the court down.  “ORDER UP!  Mr. Bale!  Send someone out to retrieve Gilly’s medical records immediately!”

            “…HA!”

            “Um… excuse me?”  Scotty asked.  “Who just… laughed?”

            “America apologizes, commie,” Harrow chuckled.  “It’s just… I never thought it would come to this.”  He shook his head.  “Don’t bother testing the blood on the handle, I’ll admit it right now, it’s mine.”

            “Ah!  Wait!”  Scotty leaned forward, any presence of RLS syndrome long forgotten.  “Does that mean you…?”

            “Yes… I confess…” Harrow smiled.  “To the very crime I accuse our little red riding hood over there of twice… concealing evidence.”

            “… HUH?”  Scotty uttered, quite loudly and almost incoherently.

            “I find it quite shocking myself, actually…” Harrow admitted.  “I usually don’t take such lengths for my clients, but…” he sighed.  “I believed in Mr. VanHunt’s innocence… but not in the evidence’s and testimony’s ability to prove it.”  He frowned.  “So as soon as I heard from my client that he had lost his mirror, I hurried over to the crime scene, tricked the police out of it, and made a hasty search for it… I believed it to be the most incriminating piece of evidence, you see, concrete proof of his ‘vampire delusions.’

            “They’re not delusions!”  VanHunt said, striking a fearless pose.  “VAMPIRES EXIST!  Werewolves too, actually, I just don’t deal with them…”

            “Yes… quite.”  Harrow acknowledged.  “Anyway, I found the mirror in the closet where VanHunt had been curled up. I meant to take it with me, but the police returned sooner than I expected.”  He sighed.  “Not wishing to be caught, I quickly dove under the desk and hid the mirror there. That’s when I cut my hand, you see.”  He held up his hand, showing that it was, indeed, cut.  “It also must have been when I dropped my key. And unfortunately, I only noticed I’d dropped it until after the crime scene photo was taken…”

            He reached into his pocket, and pulled the key out.  “See?  Here it is.  I do apologize, but this is my career we’re speaking of. Something like this could get me disbarred.”  Harrow shook his head angrily.  “And I would’ve gotten away with it too!  If that ‘vampire hunter’ hadn’t panicked at the last minute and went to retrieve it!”

            “Well then.” Scotty went through Harrow’s explanation in his mind, and found no contradictions.  “That would explain your odd behavior during the trial, wouldn’t it?”

            “But… wait!  BOЗPAЖEHИE!” Krasivaya gripped her head, utterly confused.  “If that explanation is true then… who’s guilty?”  She counted off the suspects on her fingers.  “VanHunt is innocent because of the blood splatter and the mirror… Bale is innocent because of his clothes color… Harrow is innocent because whatever little evidence tied him to the crime in the first place has been explained away way too well to have been spontaneous.”  She pulled at her hair.  “There’s no way it could have been suicide!  Then who…”

            “Oh, come now.” Scotty said, leaning back in his chair.  “It’s your first trial, the very final stretch, and you’re just going to give up?”

            “Um… pardon?”  Krasivaya said, somewhat angrily.  “Are you in any position to talk about first trials?”

            “Touché” Scotty laughed.  “But you see…” he leaned forward, staring directly in Krasivaya’s eyes.  “I figured it out.”

            “WHAAAAT?”  Harrow, Krasivaya, Bale, and VanHunt yelled simultaneously.

            “Well… then…” Harrow sputtered.

            “TELL US!” demanded Bale.

            “Don’t leave the mighty VanHunt in the dark here!”

            “It’s time you let the cat out of the sack, your honor” Krasivaya pleaded.

            “Well… you see: I’m a judge.”  Scotty explained.  “Up until now, I’ve only offered observations that could help either side, so I haven’t broken any laws… that I know of.”  He shook his head.  “But if I were to name who the killer was, it would be quite biased, wouldn’t you think?  No matter whom I fingered.”

            “Then what now?” Krasivaya sputtered.

            “Easy now, don’t over-think it, Tanya.” Scotty comforted.  “Think about it.  There’s one contradiction that hasn’t been resolved yet.”  He smiled.  “Figure out what it means, and you’ll not only have your killer, but the evidence to prove it once and for all!”

            He almost sounds like my legal mentor and not my judge… Krasivaya thought.  “One more contradiction… ah!”

            BOЗPAЖEHИE! As loud as humanly possible.

            “Was that really necessary, Ms. Krasivaya?” Scotty said, holding his ears in his hands in pain.

            “I’m sorry but… I kind of got carried away” Krasivaya blushed.  “Anyway… the last contradiction!  It has to do with the autopsy report, and another thing I forgot from earlier, actually.”  She held up a copy of the report.  “Judge Libra was supposedly stabbed in the heart with this wooden stake, da?”

            “As we’ve known from the very beginning of this trial, yes,” Harrow commented sardonically.

            “But…” the prosecutor smiled.  “If that’s the case, it creates a significant contradiction, one that I’m quite surprised you didn’t point out, actually, ‘Gilly.’”  She cleared her throat.  “If we are to believe that Judge Libra was stabbed once through the heart with the stake, that the stake was then removed and then plunged back into the chest a second time…” She pointed accusingly at… nowhere in particular.

            “There should have been splinters left in the heart!”

            OBJECTION!

            “That’s not necessarily true, Ms. Krasivaya!”  Harrow argued.  “Only manmade wood produces splinters, and besides!  Just because wood is pushed into and pulled out of something does not mean that it always leaves splinters behind!”

            BOЗPAЖEHИE!

            “However, recall Mr. VanHunt’s testimony!”

            -Flashback-

            When I opened the door, mirror held directly in front of me to protect me from an attack, I saw it!  Judge Libra… was already on the floor, and somebody was pulling something out of his chest!” 

            -End Flashback-

            “As proven by the fingerprints on the stake, and the fact that Mr. VanHunt prides himself a ‘vampire hunter’,” Krasivaya explained, “the stake was undoubtedly brought in by Mr. VanHunt himself!  His intention was, after all, to eliminate Judge Libra should his ‘vampire status’ be confirmed!  However, upon entering the room, Mr. VanHunt saw something being pulled out of the victim!”

            “That proves, more than anything else, that the initial murder weapon was not the stake!”

            “O, SAY CAN YOU SEE!” exclaimed Harrow, reeling backwards.

            “But I’m not even done there,” Krasivaya said, becoming increasingly aggressive.  “This begs an obvious follow-up question… what was the real murder weapon?”

            She put on an over-exaggerated thinking pose that would rival VanHunt.  “According to the autopsy report, it was an object about four feet long, and common sense would dictate that it was much like a stake in its construction, seeing as it could both pierce and come out quite cleanly. It would also most likely be made of metal, seeing as no splinters were left behind and hard plastic would pierce clean through a human heart.”  She pointed directly at a certain man’s flagstaff cane.  “SOUND FAMILIAR, MR. HARROW?”

            The defense attorney slumped over his cane, back arched like a cat.  “O…o….”

            “OH CANADAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!”

            A satisfied silence filled the courtroom.  “Mr. Bale?”  Scotty requested.

            “Yes, your honor?”  The man saluted.

            “Detain Mr. Harrow, and have his cane sent in for testing.”  He smiled.  “I’m sure we’ll find trace amounts of Judge Libra’s blood, no matter how much time he spent washing it last night.”  He turned his attention to the defendant.  “Mr. VanHunt?”

            “WOOHOO! YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST!” He yelled, striking a shameless victory pose.

            Scotty laughed.  “You are innocent.  That much has been proven.  However…” he shook his head.  “It would appear that you were tried in the absence of a genuine defense attorney… or rather, in the absence of an attorney that would provide an acceptable defense.”  He shook his head.  “In accordance with the law, I can only declare one thing…”

MISTRIAL

            “Even in light of this, however, the court will not require that you undergo a second trial,” Scotty declared.  He banged his gavel.  “MY WILL BE DONE!  COURT IS ADJOURNED!”

- Prosecutor’s Lobby.  5/23.  3:18 pm.

            “Congratulations, Mr. VanHunt!” Scotty said, bursting through the doors to the prosecutor’s lobby.  “As unorthodox as it is for the defendant to be celebrating being cleared of all charges with the prosecutor…”

            “Yeah, that’s true enough.”  VanHunt agreed.  “I really have to thank you, Judge Scotty.  Any other circumstances and my attorney probably would have succeeded in getting me arrested, you know?”

            “Well that’s just what he gets with wrestling with the mighty Judge Scotty, yes?”  The blonde said, smiling widely and waiting for a reaction.

            “Erm… no.  Please don’t do that.”  VanHunt said, shaking his head in desperation.  “It’s my catchphrase for a reason, your honor…”

            “Enough with the ‘your honor’ formalities… you’re a normal human being now… well, relatively.  Just call me Scotty.”  He looked across the room, and his face fell.  “What, what’s with her?” He asked, pointing to Krasivaya, who was slumped in a corner, not speaking.

            “Beats me…” VanHunt whispered.  “She’s been like that since the trial ended.”

            Scotty stepped gingerly across the room, bending down in front of Krasivaya.  “Tanya?”  He asked softly.  “What’s wrong?  You were amazing in court today.”

            Krasivaya lifted her head, staring at Scotty blankly.  “All my life,” she said, almost growling, “I’ve heard about how principled and just Americans are. About how fair and balanced and free your justice system is.”  She stood up violently.  “AND THEN I MEET THAT HORRID EXCUSE OF AN ATTORNEY, AND THE DREAM IS SHATTERED! JUST LIKE THAT!”

            “Now, now, wait a minute…” Scotty reasoned.  “Not all attorney’s are like him.”

            “Oh?  He was the definition of, ‘defense attorney of defense attorneys’ in this town!  The one that all others emulated!”  Her body shook.  “I highly doubt that any of them are much better.”

            “Ah... well…” Scotty stuttered.  How am I supposed to argue with that?  I wish there was some way I could convince her otherwise… “Surely there must be some way to-…”

            “No.”

            “You didn’t even let me finish.”  Scotty asserted.  “Just, I don’t know, give them a second chance… attorneys, I mean.”  He sighed.  “They’re not all as bad as you think.”

            Krasivaya thought silently for a moment, and then faced Scotty.  “Remember what I said during the trial?”

            -Flashback-

            Mr. VanHunt…” Scotty said softly.  “You… even though this trial could have been decided in your favor long ago… you’re still insisting to continue?”  He shook his head in amazement.  “Such dedication to the truth… it’s uncommon these days, you know?”

            “If I ever found an attorney like that, I’d probably fall in love with him…” Krasivaya commented.

            -End Flashback-

            “Find me an attorney like that,” Krasivaya challenged.  “Find one, and I might just give them all a second chance.”

            Hm… tall order.  On the outside, he laughed.  “I’ll do my best.  Just don’t end up hating judges now, you hear?”

            She smiled.  “Never in a million weeks… Scotty.”

            “CLIFF BALE REPORTING FOR DUTY, SIR!” came a loud voice from the doorway.

            “Ah! Cliff!” Scotty said, turning his attention to the bailiff.  “Well?  Results?”

            “Harrow has confessed, and Judge Libra’s blood was found on his cane, as Ms. Krasivaya deduced.”  He nodded.  “It’s a cut and dry case, no matter who leads the defense.”

            “A case I’ll be sure to prosecute for” Krasivaya vowed.  “It’ll be my first win in court, won’t it?”

            “And your second trial undefeated, da” Scotty smiled.  “Who knows?  This could become a habit of yours, eh?”

            “Hmph.”  Tanya turned away, smiling slightly.  “Perhaps.”

            “Um… Judge Scotty, sir?” Bale said unsurely.  “What’s going to happen to me now?”

            Scotty gave him a confused look.  “Not exactly sure what you mean, Cliff.”

            “Well, it’s just…” the man hung his head, ashamed.  “I lied to the court, I assaulted a judge, and I’ve been covering up a criminal record, which I wouldn’t have been hired with otherwise…”

            “…And?” Scotty goaded.

            “And what?”

            “Well, I’m waiting for you to say something that would make your fears well founded, Cliff.”

            “My fears… wait!”  The bailiff gasped.  “You mean, you’re not going to…”

            “I suppose I could…” Scotty pondered over-dramatically.  “But, my RLS is acting up and… it’s going to distract me from filling out the necessary paperwork. Plus, I’ve never been a fan of detail and procedure to begin with.”  He narrowed his eyes in mock intimidation.  “However, if you were to speak about this after today, I might suddenly remember…”

            “YES SIR!  ER… I mean… I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT, SIR!”  Bale saluted.  And like a very grateful flash, he was gone.

            VanHunt smiled.  “That was a good thing you did, oh mighty one.”

            “’Do a good turn daily’, after all…” Scotty quoted.  His face fell, as if in thought.  “Oh… right, VanHunt…”

            “Yes, Scotty?”

            “There’s one thing that’s been bothering me,” the judge began.  “A several times during the trial, made it seem like you were used to hunting vampires…”  He smiled broadly.  “You… don’t make a habit of that kind of thing, do you?”

            VanHunt laughed loudly, and clapped the judge on the back.  “Now, now, dear Scotty.  I, the mighty VanHunt, wouldn’t list ‘vampire hunter’ as an occupation if I didn’t have experience, would I?”  And he left without another word.

            Scotty’s smile froze on his face.  No… no way.  It couldn’t be…

            “I’ll start trudging through missing person reports…” Tanya grumbled.

            “I’ll do it, Ms. Krasivaya!” barked Spade exuberantly, bounding in enthusiastically.  “Right after I make good on a promise.”

            “Promise?”  Krasivaya inquired curiously.

            No… thought Scotty.  NOOOOOOOOO!

            “HIT IT HANSON!”

            “MMM BOP! BA DUBA BOP BA, DU BOP, BA DUBA BOP BA DU BOP, BA DUBA BOP BA DU! YEAH-EE-YEAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

            …

            And… yeah.  That’s how my first trial went down.  A widely acclaimed defense attorney arrested for murder, a courthouse kept blissfully unaware of an ex-con’s working there, a prosecutor left terribly, if not somewhat cutely, jaded, a single comment that would cause me to reconsider the laws of physics as human beings know them, and a ten hour song-fest that made me consider deaf life as an easier, less painful alternative the one I’m living now.   (Quite frankly, my legs never would have settled down if Lia hadn’t given them a thorough massage when I got home that night.)

            Other than this trial, and maybe a few others, the first years of my career… have actually been pretty uneventful.  It would seem I’m a shoe-in for a second term (much to my chagrin); even though I’ve made it well known that I don’t actually know all that much about law.  Perhaps I’m the victim of a statewide practical joke?  Or maybe… heaven forbid… I do this job… well?

            Either way, it looks like I’m going to be here for quite some time, actually, so who knows?  I might get used to it.

            This has been Scotty.  Be cool and buy me pizza.

End.

-Bonus Section: Name Origins!  (I like reading them… even though I already know what they are…)

Scotland (Scotty) Domino: He was originally given the name after the Lustra song ‘Scotty doesn’t know’… a joke I used quite often the first time his character appeared.  Domino, however, is a reference to his love of pizza, and ‘Scotland’ is a reference to the rumor that he doesn’t wear anything under his robes (RUMOR, MIND YOU!).

Tanya Krasivaya: Krasivaya is the Russian word for ‘beautiful.’  Tanya is a common Russian girl’s name.  (Incidentally, ‘BOЗPAЖEHИE’ is the Russian word for objection, and is pronounced ‘voz-rah-zhen-ya.’  Slava Bogu roughly translates as ‘my God’, or ‘good grief’.)

Gilford Harrow: ‘Harrow’ is a word that means both ‘an agricultural implement with spike-like teeth’ (kinda sorta like the murder weapon) and ‘to disturb keenly, to distress the mind.’  (He does make things quite strenuous, doesn’t he?)  Gilford was chosen because it’s similar to the word ‘guilty.’

Cliff Bale: This is a very shameless reference to the fact that he’s a bailiff.  ‘Bale’ is also like the actor, who supposedly has a violent nature, and ‘Cliff’ as in ‘cliffhangers’, something he put us through quite a lot of.

Constantine VanHunt: A vampire hunter’s name.  What else can I say?  VanHunt borrows from Van Helsing, and Constantine is like the movie with Keanu Reeves… even if that’s not technically about vampires.

Tracy Spade: Named after two famous fictional detectives, Dick Tracy and Sam Spade.

Hanson: Well, he’s a hand.  And he sings ‘Mmm bop’ (anyone remember that song?) just like the band of the same name did.  Any questions?

- I do apologize for the length of this thing, but it kind of just came out.  Hope it was exciting enough to keep your attention until the end!

            -Max