"Mr. Credo, you have just started as an attorney, but you are absolutely useless. You can't even make a case!" the judge shouted.
No. No!
"As such, I find the defendant, 'guilty,' just like every client of yours will be!" The judge slammed his gavel.
Noooooo! I fell down a black hole, then I saw my mentor's face. It was huge, towering over me.
"Do you want to know the real reason I wasn't there for your trial? Because I knew you would lose. You are the most inadequate attorney I have ever met!" It felt so real. His platinum hair was shining, even in the darkness. His face turned into his whole body. His middle-aged body, with slight bags under his eyes and wrinkles forming around his characteristic frown. He snapped, and the sound echoed throughout my dream.
Inadequate? Me? Please! I'm sorry! Give me another chance.
As the sound echoed, a woman appeared right next to me.
"I became a prosecutor because I hated you so much. You always were a loser. I didn't want to be anywhere where I had to be with you." Her voice was distorted, since I could barely remember what it sounded like.
That can't be!
Then, suddenly, I was in front of the judge again, this time in the courtroom. A prosecutor named Winston Payne was behind the prosecution's table. I had only seen him once before, on a case my mentor let me assist with.
"Mr. Credo," the judge said. I snapped my attention back up to him. "You were just about to present that critical piece of evidence."
"Oh, sorry, Your Honor," I responded, checking the court-record that had nothing in it. Then, I looked down and realized...I wasn't wearing any pants.
"Hee, hee, hee," Winston screeched. I presumed that was supposed to be laughing. "It seems Mr. Credo was just bluffing. I knew it."
"Is this true, Mr. Credo?" the judge asked harshly.
"Um..." I tried to reply, but I was interrupted.
All the spectators were chanting, "Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!" The judge looked at me.
"I...I forgot..." The judge shook his bald, shiny head.
"Then I have no choice. The court finds the defendant 'Guilty!'"
"Nooooooo!" I screamed, waking up in a cold sweat. I panted, and looked at my alarm clock. It was 5 am, but I knew I wasn't going to fall back asleep. This was the day of my very first case, and I was a ball of nerves. I got out of bed, and got ready haphazardly for court before walking out my apartment and running down the street, hoping it would calm me down a little.

I was panting hard, my side felt like it was splitting open. I partly jogged, partly walked over to the coffee shop across town. I felt I needed to get as far away as I could from my apartment and from the courtroom, but I didn't want to go too far and miss my own trial. That would be stupid.
I looked at the clock as soon as I finished my hot chocolate, which was definitely better than coffee in my opinion, and I noted that I had an hour till my trial. I thought I would have plenty of time to get to court, but I'm not one to take my chances with something like that. I left and went to the nearest bus stop, which only had one or two others at it. The bus didn't show up for a while, but I didn't know how long it took. In all my stumbling around the house, I forgot my watch, and looked like an idiot for staring at my wrist several times while waiting for the bus. I don't know why I didn't think to look at my cell phone until after I made it to court, but that's me for you: always getting the good ideas when it's too late.
I dozed off after a while on the bus. It was just a cat nap, five minutes long at the most, but it was long enough to miss my stop. I had to get off several miles away and run there. Ah...That was only the most painful, tiring thing I had done for...Okay, I got hurt a lot. I'm just glad I didn't trip on the pavement on my way there. Just in the grass next to the sidewalk...I got back up and kept running, of course, but still...
I guess while I reminisce on one of the more painful moments up to that point, I might as well introduce myself. My name is Edward Credo, in case you couldn't tell earlier. I'm a rookie attorney, and today is my first case. But my mentor, Geoffrey VonKarma, won't be there. I can still remember his reasoning very clearly:
"Now, Ed," he said. I was the first and only student he ever had. We weren't really formal after a few months of me coming over to his law offices everyday and helping out with various cases. "Traditionally, the mentor shows up and talks you through your first case. They also serve as a safety net for their student. But I'm not going to do that. If I'm there, you'll depend on someone to save you, but you can't afford that. Not ever. You might be able to get away with it, but in the end, there will be a time when no one will save you. The sooner you learn that, the better off you'll be. Not only as a lawyer, but as a person." And so, he organized a trial to be held on the same day at the same time as mine. That was that.
Geoffrey told me my client had been a defendant lots of times before, and was never guilty of anything except being an idiot. I thought the trial would go very smoothly if that was the case. Too bad it wasn't as easy as I had hoped...And being scared to death for most of the trial didn't help anything. It's only when I reflect on this first case that I can say, "I can't believe I was so stupid." But, well...After being a spectator in a few of Apollo Justice's cases, I really got to say this: I think Geoffrey was right. It seems as if he's always depending on someone to save him and his extremely gelled up hair.
I made it to the courtroom, panting and sore everywhere.
"I'm here!" I shouted between gasps for air. I didn't know what I was expecting. That some random person would say, "Finally." Or that someone would magically know who I was and say, "Welcome to the courtroom, Mr. Credo." Or perhaps, in my dreams, a really cute girl would walk up and say, "Hi, Ed. I've been waiting for you. May I brush your sexy brown hair?" Yes, that was quite pathetic...Anyway, what I got was...Absolutely nothing. Nobody said anything, nobody did anything. Apparently, someone charging in panting and screaming, "I'm here!" was completely normal in the courthouse. I was glad I memorized where the defense's lobby was a long time ago. I walked in, where there were considerably less people. And still nobody said anything. Except the bailiff.
"Sit down, sir. Rest a while. You still have five minutes," he said reassuringly. I didn't complain. I sat on the sofa. He walked towards me and handed me some bottled water. He then smiled, winked, and went back to his post, where he stood like a statue for the remainder of those five minutes.

I drank the water down in one gulp. That's how thirsty I was. I looked around, trying to see my client. I recognized him immediately, what with the two police officers around him and his bright orange jacket. His brown, spiky hair stuck several inches above his head, and his white shirt had some pretty interesting squares on them. Though, the one thing that made me laugh about his appearance was his slight goatee. It looked ridiculous!
I guess I should talk to him before we start this trial, I thought, going over to him.
"Hey, L-Larry," I said nervously. Gah! You're not supposed to show him you're nervous. Think of something to say to calm him down! "N-nice weather..." I was going to try to make some small talk before talking about the case, but that didn't work out so well. Before I could even finish, Larry started crying.
"I wish my Josephine was around to see the weather!" he shouted. "Tell them I'm guilty! I can't live without her!!!"
"Um...Larry..." I began, not really sure what to say to comfort him.
"Sorry, dude. I'll get over it eventually. I know that by now. It's still a force of habit!" He gave me a thumbs-up sign and I sighed.
Okay, this guy's crazy. A character to say the least, I thought.
"What happened, Larry?" I asked.
"Dude, I can't say that yet, unless you want me to lie to you," he replied. "Don't you know how it works?"
"Um...No. I'm new to this whole thing," I said.
"Yeah, I thought so. You looked a little too nervous to be anyone with any experience," Larry commented.
"Anyway, Larry, you've been to court before, right?" I asked. He nodded. "Any tips...?"
Then, the bailiff said, "The defense needs to go into the courtroom now." I sighed. By the look of things, this was going to be a long trial...

The judge banged his gavel, and the courtroom became silent.
"We are here today for the trial of Larry Butz," the judge said. "Is the prosecution ready?"
"The prosecution's ready, Your Honor," Winston replied, running his fingers through where his hair used to be. It was too bad Apollo got to him before I did. Now his hair was strictly at the top of his head, and it hadn't grown out at all. It looked like he got a crew cut. And yet he couldn't resist trying to flick his hair that was no longer there. This was less than a week after Apollo made all his hair fly off, and I was the unfortunate attorney who had to see him like that. And who couldn't make his hair fall off, since there wasn't enough left to do that.
"And is the defense ready?" the judge asked, snapping me out of my trance.
"T-the defense is ready, Your Honor!" I bellowed in response. For some reason, I thought yelling really loudly would prove that I wasn't nervous. Of course, the judge shook his head.
"You seem nervous, Mr. Credo," the judge said. "Maybe some questions about the case will calm you down. Now, Mr. Credo, what was the victim's name?" Winston Payne casually stood there. Of course, the judge had to do something like that for most rookies, and Winston was very used to it.
"The victim's name was..." I began. I fumbled for the court-record, my pulse racing. Too bad, in my rush, I misread the name. "Joey Swift."
"Hey, dude! I don't swing that way!" Larry shouted.
Oops! What did I say?! The judge shook his head disapprovingly.
"Check the court-record again, Mr. Credo. There's no need to rush yourself. By the way, I've been wondering something," he said.
"What is it, Your Honor?" I asked.
"It's just...What's with your forehead? It's huge!" I was speechless for a second, trying to come up with something to say. I mean, did the judge seriously not understand genetics? Clearly, he understood receding hairlines. That, or he popped out of the womb looking like he does now.
"It's to fit my big brain, Your Honor," I retorted pathetically.
"Your one brain cell must be lonely in there!" Payne shouted, not passing up the opportunity to insult me. He should have just let sleeping dogs lie.
"Right...Like the one strand of hair on your head," I responded. Insults are something I'd like to think I'm good at, though I probably am terrible at them. Anyway, I loved Winston's reaction, which was sweating and patting the top of his head self-consciously. I was satisfied.
The judge banged his gavel, and said, "Mr. Credo, insults will not be tolerated in my court!"
"B-but, you started it," I responded.
"Are you talking back to me?!" the judge thundered.
"N-no..." I replied, surprised at the judge's sudden change in attitude.
"I didn't think so," the judge commented. I was stunned.
"Now, are you going to answer the question?" he asked. "Who is the victim in this case?"
"Oh, right. The victim's name is..." I looked at the court-record again. "Josephine Smith."
"Good job," the judge said approvingly, nodding his head. "Now, what is the cause of death."
"Blunt-force trauma, Your Honor," I replied readily.
"Very good. Now, what are all the countries in the world?" the judge asked. I looked at him, confused.
"I was only kidding," the judge said, laughing. "Anyway, in all seriousness, what is the murder weapon of the case and how was it used?"
"The murder weapon is a statue of the victim that my client made with his own hands. The statue toppled on top of her, and yet...this was a premeditated murder?" I answered. I was confused as to why it wasn't considered an accidental death.
"Yes. Exciting, isn't it?" the judge asked. "Are you feeling more relaxed, Mr. Credo?"
"Yes, Your Honor," I replied. Surprisingly.
"Now, would the prosecution make their opening statement?" the judge inquired.
"Certainly, Your Honor," Winston replied.

"The beautiful Ms. Josephine Smith was the unfortunate girlfriend of Mr. Butz. Naturally, she was unfaithful. Mr. Butz found out and killed her," Winston explained.
"Objection!" I shouted forcefully. "That's speculation!" In law school, I learned that was a perfectly valid thing to say, so I figured it was worth a shot. It was speculation in truth. But I quickly lost my resolve as the courtroom became completely silent.
"What?" I asked uncomfortably.
"I'm sorry," the judge answered. "It's just...No other rookie has objected to the prosecution's opening statement. Ever. On the grounds of speculation, no less. I'm not exactly sure what to do."
"Penalize him, Your Honor!" Payne ordered excitedly as I stood speechless behind my table, dripping with sweat. I didn't know what penalizing was, but it sounded like something I didn't want to find out.
"No. That's very interesting. Speculation," the judge replied. "So unusual. I think this guy will go far at some point."
"T-thank you, Your Honor," I stuttered nervously.
"Even so, objection overruled!" the judge boomed. I flinched, but didn't feel anything. "You may call your first witness."
"The defense calls..." I began before gasping exasperatedly and clutching my mouth shut. Didn't you learn anything in law school? The prosecution calls the witnesses, not you.
"What are you doing, Mr. Credo?" the judge asked.
"Um...I just...Think it's unfair that the prosecution could call as many witnesses as they want, while the defense can't call any witnesses unless the prosecution requests it," I replied. The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. The judge looked appalled.
"It's been a condition of the courts for years. And you can't change it here. I'm sorry, Mr. Credo. I'll have to penalize you if you say anymore on this matter," the judge explained. I gulped, not wanting to know the wrath of the judge again. "You may proceed, Mr. Payne."
"Thank you, Your Honor," Winston said. "The prosecution calls the defendant, Larry Butz to the stand. If that's alright with the defense, of course." I thought he was mocking me at first, before I remembered law school: The defense must okay their client being called to the stand before they can take it. It may very well be that the defendant doesn't want to testify, thinking it would implicate them.
"Um...It's fine with me," I responded, trying to sound confident. What was I supposed to say? No way, you suck? I made a mental note to try to put that in my comedy act that would never happen. Nobody would really get it anyway...Larry took the stand as the spectators murmured a little.
"Name and occupation please, Witness," the prosecution requested.
"Name: Larry Butz. Occupation: Unemployed," Larry responded.
"Whaaaaaaaat?!" I asked over dramatically.
"Unemployed?!" the judge probed.

"Dudes. Calm down. I was fired after being arrested again," Larry responded. I sighed with relief.
I very intelligently and articulately said, "Oh..." That was all I could come up with as I blushed from embarrassment. Of course. Being fired for being arrested made perfect sense. Then, I began to wonder how he kept getting jobs if he was constantly arrested.
"Where did you work before you were fired, Mr. Butz?" Winston Payne asked, interrupting my vivid imagination of Larry saying something to the effect of, "Before you say, 'No', take this into account: I wouldn't mind going back to prison, dude." at the end of a job interview. I paid close attention to what Larry would say next, feeling it was all important somehow.
"I plead the fifth!" Larry replied, giving me the thumbs-up sign. I smacked my forehead exasperatedly. To plead the fifth over something so trivial as a job seemed so incredibly stupid. Even I wasn't that stupid...At least, that's what I'd like to think.
"Why?" Payne inquired. I silently agreed. Why would Larry do that?
"Because, if I tell you where I work, you'll prove I worked with someone who would give me a reason to kill my darling Josephine. Then, you'll provide random pieces of evidence that link me to the murder. The defense will tear my testimony apart, and everyone will be more sure than ever that I'm the murderer even though I'm not. I know how this works by now, dude," Larry answered. Everyone was silent for a while. So much for having an easy client and case...
"Come on, Larry," I finally spoke up, "What are the chances of that happening?"
"Dude, I've been a defendant over five times. That happens every single time, man. But, if you insist, then...I was a mailman."
"So was Mr. Sam Stud, a man the victim was seeing on the side. After the defendant found out what happened, he punched Mr. Stud in the nose."
"Objection! Hold your horses, Mr. Payne. You're accusing my client of premeditated murder, yet you're saying this was an act of rage? It's one or the other. Not both," I argued.
"...Why can't it be both?" the judge asked.
You have got to be kidding me!
"Simple, Your Honor. Because when you're enraged, you are incapable of planning anything. Surely you know that," I responded casually.
"Ah! Like the time I was so angry at a lawyer, I threw my gavel at him."
He did that?! "Anyway, I guess the defense makes an argument. Not a great one, but at least they have a point. So, Mr. Payne, which is it?" the judge questioned.
"Um...It was...." Winston began to reply.
"Think carefully about your answer, Mr. Payne," I interrupted.
"An act of rage..." he concluded. I slammed my hand on the table, feeling excited for a reason I still can't explain.
"If he was enraged, then why did he only hit Mr. Stud in the nose, and kill the victim, Ms. Smith? It doesn't make sense!" I shouted.
"My guess is because Mr. Stud could fight back," Winston answered coolly.
"Objection! My guess is that the prosecution's full of it!" I insisted. "I mean, if that's what he was afraid of, then why did he hit Mr. Stud in the first place?"
"There will be no swearing in my courtroom!" the judge bellowed.
"Um...I said, 'it', Your Honor. Not the 'S' word..." I said, my excitement starting to fade a little.
"Oh...My bad. Carry on," the judge responded sheepishly. "After, of course...I'm sorry, Mr. Credo, but I'm afraid I'll have to side with the prosecution on this one. Overruled." I cringed, feeling a little pain. Was that the oh-so-feared penalty?

"Why did you side with the prosecution? What Mr. Payne said clearly contradicts the facts of this case," I said feebly. The penalty certainly made me feel weaker for some reason.
"Do not question my judgment, Mr. Credo. I've been sitting behind this desk for years. You'll just have to trust that my call is fair," the judge responded. "It would certainly be much easier to go home and take it out on Ms. Smith than it would be to kill Mr. Stud, who is much taller than he is, as soon as he found out."
I still didn't see either Winston or the judge's reasoning, but I couldn't talk back to the judge without getting another penalty.
"And the evidence would be...This statue, correct?" I asked, pulling the data of the statue from the court-record.
"That's right. It was a gift from Mr. Butz himself," Winston replied cockily.
"...Mr. Payne, couples give each other gifts like this all the time. Just because it happened to become the murder weapon doesn't mean as much as you think it does," I explained levelly. "According to the court-record, no fingerprints were found on the murder weapon, correct?"
"Yes," Winston responded.
"That means whoever did this was wearing gloves...Which means this murder was premeditated as you originally suspected," I said. Winston looked like he was about to say something, but I didn't give him the chance. "But that means my client no longer has a motive."
"W-what?! What do you mean?!" Winston shrieked.
"I mean that this whole "seeing someone on the side" business really means nothing if the murder was planned out. It was a pretty smart plan. Looked accidental enough to anyone. A murder like that would take more than simply being enraged! Do you remember this autopsy report? Nothing else besides this statue left a mark. Had this been an act of rage, he probably would have tried to hurt her before killing her, wouldn't you think?" I answered.
"Th-then...Then, what are you suggesting, Mr. Credo?!"
"That someone else did this. Someone who knew about Ms. Smith's relationship with my client," I responded. "And who knew about that statue...We both know of one person who would know all about it. She was seeing him on the side after all."
"A-are you suggesting...That Mr. Stud did this?!" Winston inquired, shocked.
"Yes, I am," I replied. "Would you mind calling him to the stand, Mr. Payne?" I couldn't believe how calm I was. My pulse was racing. I was scared to death. Yet when I talked, I sounded like I actually knew what I was doing.
"Um...I would, but...He's in the hospital," Winston said hesitantly.
"What?!" I asked.
"He was shot earlier today," Winston answered.
"W-WHAAAAAT?!" I screamed over the spectators, who were talking amongst themselves. It was then I wondered: could I have ran right past the perpetrator that morning? Was there any way I could have stopped it? Regardless, one thing was painfully clear: those two cases were connected, and Larry couldn't have done either crime. So, who did and why? I would know as soon as they took the stand...

The judge let us go to a recess so the prosecution could prepare their next witness. I found it very strange that Larry wasn't even given the chance to testify. Perhaps Winston knew that the cases were related, so my client couldn't have done it? Or perhaps he thought since Larry had pleaded the fifth on his job, he'd do the same for his testimony. I wouldn't have been surprised in the least if he did that...
"Duuuuude," Larry said. "This is intense, man! I wonder who he'll call next."
"Um...Mr. Butz, may I have a word with you?" I asked nervously.
"Sure, dude. Whatcha wanna know?" Larry replied.
"Well, I was wondering what you were doing..." I started to say.
"Oh. I read ya. That night...I finally got over my anger at Josey after a couple days of thinking things over. I decided I'd forgive her, ya know? She will always be...My angel." He looked like he was on the verge of tears. "And when I walked in, I saw...J-Josey. Under my statue I made...Of her! Before I could do anything, I felt something hit the back of my head and...I thought it was a bad dream since I woke up at home, but..." His eyes grew huge, water pouring out of them. "Then I was arrested!"
"...I see. Thanks, Larry. I know it couldn't have been easy for you to tell me this," I responded. to the now crying Larry.
"Hey, dude. It's cool," Larry stated, the tears disappearing and his eyes shrinking back down to normal size. "I've had to tell stories like that all the time."
"I wish you didn't..." I said.
"Yeah, well, being accused of murder will make you do that. ...Why are you looking at me like that?" Larry asked.
"Oh. I'm sorry. You just...Reminded me of someone..." I replied. Don't think about him now. Not yet. "Well, looks like it's time to get back into the courtroom."
"But the trial won't continue for another five minutes, dude."
"I...Have to prepare some more..." I lied, dashing back inside the courtroom.

The judge slammed his gavel and the courtroom became silent.
"Your Honor, during the recess, I got the next witness to come here," Winston said.
"Then please call them to the stand, Mr. Payne," the judge responded. Then, he looked at me. "Mr. Credo, are you alright?" I was reflecting on a few things. The man my client so reminded me of.
"Being accused of murder will make you do that. Hahaha! I know with you, Geoffrey, as my attorney, I'll be just fine!" His booming voice rang through my head. Then, I looked at the judge.
"Huh?" I asked absentmindedly. The judge shook his head disapprovingly.
"Mr. Credo, if you're not going to pay attention, then..." he started.
"Sorry, Your Honor. I'm fine. Prepared as I can be," I interrupted, panicking over my blunder.
“That’s what I like to hear, Mr. Credo,” the judge said.
“The prosecution calls Mr. Krimes to the stand!” Winston shrieked. A very fat man with a fro walked over to the witness stand. He had horrible acne and wore glasses. His stomach folded around the witness stand so he could fit, and it looked like it would break any moment. “Name and occupation, please.”
“My name is Mr. Krimes. I’m a high school English teacher,” the fat man responded.
“Hold it!” I shouted forcefully. “Mr. Krimes. That’s an unusual name.”
“I guess I’m just overcompensating. My first name is Kamitsa,” Mr. Krimes stated. I stared at him for a moment. The name was a crazy coincidence.
“Your Honor, surely a wise and intelligent man such as yourself wouldn’t think my client is guilty after hearing…” I began.
“Objection!” Winston shouted. “The name has no relation to what kind of person he is, Mr. Credo. Mr. Krimes is a model citizen." Too bad he's a murderer... I thought.
“I agree with the prosecution,” the judge said. I couldn’t help but think the judge would regret that decision later.
“I apologize for the defense’s idiocy,” Winston stated. “Testify, Witness.”
“Yeah. Testify…Hey!” I shouted.

- -Witness Testimony- -

"I had just perambulated to my friend's house, which happened to be right across the street from Ms. Smith's.
Suddenly, I heard a bloodcurdling scream.
I looked outside and saw Mr. Butz fleeing the scene of the crime. Knife in hand.
I immediately called the police."
"I see. You may cross-examine, Mr. Credo," the judge said.
"Cross examine that?! But there's so much wrong with it, I don't know where to start," I responded.
"What do you mean, Mr. Credo? What's wrong with the testimony?" the judge asked.
"First of all, it was in the middle of the night when this murder occurred," I replied. "So he wouldn't have seen what was in my client's hands. And even if he could see it by a streetlight or something, this is the murder weapon!" I pulled out the picture of the bloody statue from the court-record. "Take that!" Mr. Krimes cringed.
"What are you suggesting, Mr. Credo?" Winston inquired.
"Simple, Mr. Payne. That Mr. Krimes...Is lying!" I answered. The spectators began to talk among themselves.

“Ha, ha, Mr. Credo,” Mr. Krimes said, shaking his head. “You nearly fooled me. I never said the knife was the murder weapon. I just said he was holding a knife-like object in his hand.”
“But that makes no sense! Why would he topple a statue on her if he had a knife?!” I asked, practically yelling.
“Why indeed, Mr. Credo?” Winston responded. He looked a little too calm, grinning smugly.
“So you have an explanation?” the judge inquired.
“Of course, Your Honor. What Mr. Krimes saw in Mr. Butz’s hand wasn’t a knife, though it was something similar.”
“S-something…Similar? But he said he saw a knife!” I shouted, trying to regain some momentum. But it didn’t work.
“He thought he saw a knife, Mr. Credo. But what he really saw…Was this!” Winston shouted, pulling out a green, sharp object.
“What’s that, Mr. Payne?” I asked, feigning calmness.
“Why don’t you tell us?” he retorted smugly. “Surely you noticed that something’s missing from the statue.”
“Something…Missing?” I probed.
“Something missing! Pull out the picture, Mr. Credo and tell us what is wrong with it," the judge ordered.
“But Mr. Payne’s the one who…” I began.
“Yes, Mr. Credo. Tell us what is wrong with the picture,” Winston interrupted. Relax, Ed, I thought. It can’t be too hard to figure out. What is missing here? I looked at the picture of the statue. On the head was a green crown, which was…Missing an end.
“T-the crown. It’s missing a piece,” I stuttered.
“Exactly,” Winston responded. He held the green thing in an evidence bag up proudly. “We found this is Mr. Butz’s pants pocket.”
“The court accepts this into evidence,” the judge said as I jotted down the information of the object.
“It has blood on it!” I shouted upon closer inspection.
“Yes, Mr. Credo. That would be the result of blood splatter,” Winston explained patronizingly.
“But why would my client have that in his pocket?” I wondered aloud.
“I have heard of killers who like to kill and then take souvenirs. Perhaps Mr. Butz is one of those,” Mr. Krimes interjected.
“It still seems crazy…” The judge banged his gavel.
“It seems as though that matter has been cleared up. I am ready to hand down my verdict…”
“No!” I shouted. “Your Honor, this cross-examination is far from over. I would like the witness to amend his testimony!”
“You’re digging your own grave, Mr. Credo,” Winston commented.
“Calm down, Mr. Credo. I was only joking,” the judge explained. That wasn’t funny, Your Honor. “Please, amend your testimony, Mr. Krimes.”
“Fine. I shall amend my testimony. I just hope Mr. Credo is not wasting everyone’s time with this,” Mr. Krimes said.

“I perambulated to a friend’s house, which happened to be across the street from Ms. Smith’s.
Suddenly, I heard a bloodcurdling scream.
I looked outside and saw Mr. Butz fleeing the scene of the crime.
I thought there was a knife in his hand, but it was actually the top part of a metal crown.
I immediately called the police,” Mr. Krimes testified. I listened intently. There were no outright contradictions, but there had to be more to it than that. In this situation, I…Press, right? Dang you, VonKarma. I need your help! I think I may have glared at the judge because he fidgeted behind the bench.
“You may proceed, Mr. Credo,” the judge said.
“Oh, yeah. I’ll get right on that. I’ll proceed the crap out of the witness!” I blurted nervously. The judge shook his head, so I added. “I-I mean…I’ll…Just do my thing now…” Smooth, Ed. Smooth.
“I perambulated to a friend’s house, which happened to be across the street from Ms. Smith’s.”
“Hold it!” I shouted forcefully, slamming my hand on the desk as hard as I could, a decision I instantly regretted as my hands stung. I tried to discreetly wave my hands so as to dull the pain.
“Mr. Credo, are you alright?” the judge asked.
“E-excuse me?” was my obviously-not-nervous reply.
“Well, your eyes grew as wide as dinner plates,” the judge pointed out.
“It was nothing, I just…” I began.
“He just realized that he was a stupid and naïve to take this case as Mr. Butz is so obviously guilty,” Winston interrupted. I’d like to say I came up with a clever response to this. Even something like, “At least I’m not as stupid as you,” or “stupid like your face!” would have been better than what I came up with. Now that I think about it, “That’s not what your mom said to me last night,” would have been a million times better than the response I gave him.
“Yes, I…H-hey! That wasn’t nice, you…Meanie poopy of a prosecutor,” I retorted. “A-anyway, Witness, this friend of yours…What’s their name?”
“I do not feel I need to divulge that information, Mr. Credo,” Mr. Krimes responded.
“B-but, this person could be a valuable witness…” I meekly asserted.
“Objection!” Winston shouted. “Mr. Credo, you’re wasting your time. We already checked on this friend of his, and they are in no condition to testify.”
“But…”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Credo,” the judge said. “But it looks like you’ll have to ask something less pointless.”
“Okay, Your Honor,” I conceded. “Continue, please, Witness.”
“Suddenly, I heard a blood curdling scream.”
“Hold it!” I shouted forcefully, slamming my hands on the desk forcefully yet again. Yeah, I don’t learn from my mistakes. But, in all fairness, it didn’t hurt as much the second time. “Did you hear anything else before or after that?”
“Yeah. I heard a ‘thud’ right after that,” Mr. Krimes answered. I smiled to myself.
“Your Honor, I would like that information to be added to the testimony,” I stated.
“Why? Is it important, Mr. Credo?” the judge inquired.
“It’s probably the most important thing he’s said all day long,” I replied with a self-satisfied smirk.
“Well, if you say so…Please add that to your testimony, Mr. Krimes,” the judge requested.

"I heard a 'thud' right after the scream," Mr. Krimes testified.
"Objection!" I screamed, extending my index finger at Mr. Krimes. "Do you think we're stupid?"
"I believe you are, Mr. Credo," Mr. Krimes replied. "What about it?"
"Ouch, Mr. Krimes. But you don't get it. Nothing you say will affect me. Not now that I know the truth," I commented.
"You're bluffing. If you knew the truth, you would have said it by now," Winston retorted.
"Oh, would I?" I asked calmly. "Or would I rather watch you squirm?" I wondered where all this was coming from.
"Order! Order!" the judge boomed. "If you know something we don't, please tell us, Mr. Credo."
"Simple, Your Honor. There was no way he could have heard the 'thud' from clear across the street. Even from a statue of this size," I said coolly.
"What are you suggesting, Mr. Credo?" the judge inquired.
"I am suggesting...That Mr. Krimes was somewhere else at the time of the murder," I answered.
"Hee, hee, hee," Winston laughed. "If what you say is true, then show us where he was on the map of the area."
"We...Have a map?" I asked, digging through the court-record. I found one folded up at the very bottom and blushed with embarrassment. "Er...Yes, well, Mr. Krimes...Would have to be right here!" I pointed to the red circle with the "k" in it.
"Mr. Credo, are you suggesting...That Mr. Krimes is the murderer?" the judge inquired.
"Yes, I am," I responded over the chatting spectators.
"Hee, hee, hee...Slow down, Mr. Credo. Let's not be hasty here," Winston said. "First of all, you don't have a shred of evidence linking him to the murder. Secondly, what about his motive? Mr. Krimes didn't know Ms. Smith."
"Er...You're right...He doesn't have a reason to kill her...Unless he was hired to do it!" I responded. The spectators were in an uproar at this.
"Order! Order! The next spectator to speak will be thrown out of my courtroom!" the judge bellowed. The spectators all quieted down. "Mr. Credo, this is a very serious accusation. Not only are you accusing this man of murder, you're saying someone hired him to do it. Who hired him?" I dug around in the court-record and pulled out his profile.
"Mr. Stud," I replied, holding up his profile.
"Really, Mr. Credo. I didn't expect you to sink so low as to accuse someone who is in the hospital of doing something like this," Winston said.
"Can you prove that Mr. Krimes was hired by someone?" the judge questioned.
"Er...You see this?" I answered, pulling out the tip of the crown. "This...this is something...That served the purpose of...Proof?" Hey, wait a minute...That makes sense! I thought.
"Proof! What are you talking about, Mr. Credo?" Winston inquired.
"I am talking about the proof that Mr. Krimes did it. This piece of statue wasn't supposed to be put in Larry's pocket. It was supposed to be used to prove Mr. Krimes murdered Ms. Smith so he could be payed!" I explained. "And without the proof, he didn't get payed. That's why Mr. Stud was shot! Well, Mr. Krimes?"
"...Ha! Hahahaha!" Mr. Krimes laughed. "That is a very good story, Mr. Credo. But that's all it is. A story. You don't have a shred of definitive evidence against me. None that wouldn't also implicate Mr. Butz."
"Ugh..." He's right. I have nothing... I thought.
"Wrong!" someone shouted. Mr. Stud strode toward the judge's bench.
"You," Mr. Krimes said with utter hatred in his voice. "I thought I killed you. I-" I grinned smugly. Winston Payne winced. And the judge stared in surprise.
"Your Honor, I will tell you everything that happened. And I won't leave out one detail. I would be going to prison anyway..." Mr. Stud sighed and told us everything. Apparently, Josephine saw him kill someone out of rage and threatened to tell the police about it. Mr. Stud needed to shut her up for good. But he couldn't do it without it looking suspicious, so he hired Mr. Krimes to do the dirty work for him. What I said was the truth. When Larry stumbled across the crime scene, Mr. Krimes panicked and planted the top part of the crown into Larry's pocket, thereby painting Larry as the killer. As such, he didn't have the proof on him to receive Mr. Stud's pay. That made Mr. Krimes so mad that he shot Mr. Stud.
"Hm...I see. In light of this new evidence, the court finds the defendant, Mr. Butz
NOT GUILTY!
Court is adjourned," the judge said when Mr. Stud was done explaining. I looked to Winston expectantly. But he didn't lose all his hair or anything. He just leaned against the desk forlornly. I could tell he was doubting himself. All those years as 'the rookie killer' and he loses to two rookies in the same week. I walked over to him.
"The world needs prosecutors, Mr. Payne. Just as much as it does defense attorneys," I comforted. Winston looked up at me.
"Whatever, Rookie," Winston responded. He turned pointedly and walked away. Before he walked out, he turned to me and said, "Thank you." I smiled as I walked out of the courtroom, through the confetti, and into the lobby.

I was panting hard, my side felt like it was splitting open. I partly jogged, partly walked over to the coffee shop across town. I felt I needed to get as far away as I could from my apartment and from the courtroom, but I didn't want to go too far and miss my own trial. That would be stupid.
I looked at the clock as soon as I finished my hot chocolate, which was definitely better than coffee in my opinion, and I noted that I had an hour till my trial. I thought I would have plenty of time to get to court, but I'm not one to take my chances with something like that. I left and went to the nearest bus stop, which only had one or two others at it. The bus didn't show up for a while, but I didn't know how long it took. In all my stumbling around the house, I forgot my watch, and looked like an idiot for staring at my wrist several times while waiting for the bus. I don't know why I didn't think to look at my cell phone until after I made it to court, but that's me for you: always getting the good ideas when it's too late.
I dozed off after a while on the bus. It was just a cat nap, five minutes long at the most, but it was long enough to miss my stop. I hate to get off several miles away and run there. Ah...That was only the most painful, tiring thing I had done for...Okay, I got hurt a lot. I'm just glad I didn't trip on the pavement on my way there. Just in the grass next to the sidewalk...I got back up and kept running, of course, but still...
I guess while I reminisce on one of the more painful moments up to that point, I might as well introduce myself. My name is Edward Credo, in case you couldn't tell earlier. I'm a rookie attorney, and today is my first case. But my mentor, Geoffrey VonKarma, won't be there. I can still remember his reasoning very clearly:
"Now, Ed," he said. I was the first and only student he's ever had. We weren't really formal after a few months of me coming over to his law offices everyday and helping out with various cases. "Traditionally, the mentor shows up and talks you through your first case. They also serve as a safety net for their student. But I'm not going to do that. If I'm there, you'll depend on someone to save you, but you can't afford that. Not ever. You might be able to get away with it, but in the end, there will be a time when no one will save you. The sooner you learn that, the better off you'll be. Not only as a lawyer, but as a person." And so, he organized a trial to be held on the same day at the same time as mine. That was that.
Geoffrey told me my client had been a defendant lots of times before, and was never guilty of anything except being an idiot. I thought the trial would go very smoothly if that was the case. Too bad it wasn't as easy as I had hoped...And being scared to death for most of the trial didn't help anything. It's only when I reflect on this first case that I can say, "I can't believe I was so stupid." But, well...After being a spectator in a few of Apollo Justice's cases, I really got to say this: I think Geoffrey was right. It seems as if he's always depending on someone to save him and his extremely gelled up hair.
I made it to the courtroom, panting and sore everywhere.
"I'm here!" I shouted between gasps for air. I didn't know what I was expecting. That some random person would say, "Finally." Or that someone would magically know who I was and say, "Welcome to the courtroom, Mr. Credo." Or perhaps, in my dreams, a really cute girl would walk up and say, "Hi, Ed. I've been waiting for you. May I brush your sexy brown hair?" Yes, that was quite pathetic...Anyway, what I got was...Absolutely nothing. Nobody said anything, nobody did anything. Apparently, someone running into the courthouse, panting and screaming, "I'm here!" was totally normal. I was glad I memorized where the defense's lobby was a long time ago. I walked in, where there were considerably less people. And still nobody said anything. Except the bailiff.
"Sit down, sir. Rest a while. You still have five minutes," he said reassuringly. I didn't complain. I sat on the sofa. He walked towards me and handed me some bottled water. He then smiled, winked, and went back to his post, where he stood like a statue for the remainder of those five minutes.

I drank the water down in one gulp. That's how thirsty I was. I looked around, trying to see my client. I recognized him immediately, what with the two police officers around him and his bright orange jacket. His brown, spiky hair stuck several inches above his head, and his white shirt had some pretty interesting squares on them. Though, the one thing that made me laugh about his appearance was his slight goatee. It looked ridiculous!
I guess I should talk to him before we start this trial, I thought, going over to him.
"Hey, L-Larry," I said nervously. Gah! You're not supposed to show him you're nervous. Think of something to say to calm him down! "N-nice whether..." I was going to try to make some small talk before talking about the case, but that didn't work out so well. Before I could even finish, Larry started crying.
"I wish my Josephine was around to see the weather!" he shouted. "Tell them I'm guilty! I can't live without her!!!"
"Um...Larry..." I began, not really sure what to say to comfort him.
"Sorry, dude. I'll get over it eventually. I know that by now. It's still a force of habit!" He gave me a thumbs-up sign and I sighed.
Okay, this guy's crazy. A character to say the least, I thought.
"What happened, Larry?" I asked.
"Dude, I can't say that yet, unless you want me to lie to you," he replied. "Don't you know how it works?"
"Um...No. I'm new to this whole thing," I said.
"Yeah, I thought so. You looked a little too nervous to be anyone with any experience," Larry commented.
"Anyway, Larry, you've been to court before, right?" I asked. He nodded. "Any tips...?"
Then, the bailiff said, "The defense needs to go into the courtroom now." I sighed. By the look of things, this was going to be a long trial...

This chapter was pretty short, but I didn't want to divide up the actual trial into too many parts. The next addition will probably be much longer.

The judge banged his gavel, and the courtroom became silent.
"We are here today for the trial of Larry Butz," the judge said. "Is the prosecution ready?"
"The prosecution's ready, Your Honor," Winston replied, running his fingers through where his hair used to be. It was too bad Apollo got to him before I did. Now his hair was strictly at the top of his head, and it hadn't grown out at all. It looked like he got a crew cut. And yet he couldn't resist trying to flick his hair that was no longer there. This was less than a week after Apollo made all his hair fly off, and I was the unfortunate attorney who had to see him like that. And who couldn't make his hair fall off, since there wasn't enough left to do that.
"And is the defense ready?" the judge asked, snapping me out of my trance.
"T-the defense is ready, Your Honor!" I bellowed in response. For some reason, I thought yelling really loudly would prove that I wasn't nervous. Of course, the judge shook his head.
"You seem nervous, Mr. Credo," the judge said. "Maybe some questions about the case will calm you down. Now, Mr. Credo, what was the victim's name." Winston Payne casually stood there. Of course, the judge had to do something like that for most rookies, and Winston was very used to it.
"The victim's name was..." I began. I fumbled for the court-record, my pulse racing. Too bad, in my rush, I misread the name. "Joey Swift."
"Hey, dude! I don't swing that way!" Larry shouted.
Oops! What did I say?! The judge shook his head disapprovingly.
"Check the court-record again, Mr. Credo. There's no need to rush yourself. By the way, I've been wondering something," he said.
"What is it, Your Honor?" I asked.
"It's just...What's with your forehead? It's huge!" I was speechless for a second, trying to come up with something to say. I mean, did the judge seriously not understand genetics? Clearly, he understood receding hairlines. That, or he popped womb looking like he does now.
"It's to fit my big brain, Your Honor," I retorted pathetically.
"Your one brain cell must be lonely in there!" Payne shouted, not passing up the opportunity to insult me. He should have just let sleeping dogs lie.
"Right...Like the one strand of hair on your head," I responded. Insults are something I'd like to think I'm good at, though I probably am terrible at them. Anyway, I loved Winston's reaction, which was sweating and patting the top of his head self-consciously. I was satisfied.
The judge banged his gavel, and said, "Mr. Credo, insults will not be tolerated in my court!"
"B-but, you started it," I responded.
"Are you talking back to me?!" the judge thundered.
"N-no..." I replied, surprised at the judge's sudden change in attitude.
"I didn't think so," the judge commented. I was stunned.
"Now, are you going to answer the question?" he asked. "Who is the victim in this case?"
"Oh, right. The victim's name is..." I looked at the court-record again. "Josephine Smith."
"Good job," the judge said approvingly, nodding his head. "Now, what is the cause of death."
"Blunt-force trauma, Your Honor," I replied readily.
"Very good. Now, what are all the countries in the world?" the judge asked. I looked at him, confused.
"I was only kidding," the judge said, laughing. "Anyway, in all seriousness, what is the murder weapon of the case and how was it used?"
"The murder weapon is a statue of the victim that my client made with his own hands. The statue toppled on top of her, and yet...this was a premeditated murder?" I answered. I was confused as to why it wasn't considered an accidental death.
"Yes. Exciting, isn't it?" the judge asked. "Are you feeling more relaxed, Mr. Credo?"
"Yes, Your Honor," I replied. Surprisingly.
"Now, would the prosecution make their opening statement?" the judge inquired.
"Certainly, Your Honor," Winston replied.

"The beautiful Ms. Josephine Smith was the unfortunate girlfriend of Mr. Butz. Naturally, she was unfaithful. Mr. Butz found out and killed her," Winston explained.
"Objection!" I shouted forcefully. "That's speculation!" In law school, I learned that was a perfectly valid thing to say, so I figured it was worth a shot. It was speculation in truth. But I quickly lost my resolve as the courtroom became completely silent.
"What?" I asked uncomfortably.
"I'm sorry," the judge answered. "It's just...No other rookie has objected to the prosecution's opening statement. Ever. On the grounds of speculation, no less. I'm not exactly sure what to do."
"Penalize him, Your Honor!" Payne ordered excitedly as I stood speechless behind my table, dripping with sweat. I didn't know what penalizing was, but it sounded like something I didn't want to find out.
"No. That's very interesting. Speculation," the judge replied. "So unusual. I think this guy will go far at some point."
"T-thank you, Your Honor," I stuttered nervously.
"Even so, objection overruled!" the judge boomed. I flinched, but didn't feel anything. "You may call your first witness."
"The defense calls..." I began before gasping exasperatedly and clutching my mouth shut. Didn't you learn anything in law school? The prosecution calls witnesses, not you.
"What are you doing, Mr. Credo?" the judge asked.
"Um...I just...Think it's unfair that the prosecution could call as many witnesses as they want, while the defense can't call any witnesses unless the prosecution requests it," I replied. The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. The judge looked appalled.
"It's been a condition of the courts for years. And you can't change it here. I'm sorry, Mr. Credo. I'll have to penalize you if you say anymore on this matter," the judge explained. I gulped, not wanting to know the wrath of the judge again. "You may proceed, Mr. Payne."
"Thank you, Your Honor," Winston said. "The prosecution calls the defendant, Larry Butz to the stand. If that's alright with the defense, of course." I thought he was mocking me at first, before I remembered law school: The defense must okay their client being called to the stand before they can take it. It may very well be that the defendant doesn't want to defend themselves.
"Um...It's fine with me," I responded, trying to sound confident. What was I supposed to say? No way, you suck? I made a mental note to try to put that in my comedy act that would never happen. Nobody would really get it anyway...Larry took the stand as the spectators murmured a little.
"Name and occupation please, Witness," the prosecution requested.
"Name: Larry Butz. Occupation: Unemployed," Larry responded.
"Whaaaaaaaat?!" I asked over dramatically.
"Unemployed?!" the judge probed.

"Dudes. Calm down. I was fired after being arrested again," Larry responded. I sighed with relief.
I very intelligently and articulately said, "Oh..." That was all I could come up with as I blushed from embarrassment. Of course. Being fired for being arrested made perfect sense. Then, I began to wonder how he kept getting jobs if he was constantly arrested.
"Where did you work before you were fired, Mr. Butz?" Winston Payne asked, interrupting my vivid imagination of Larry saying something to the effect of, "Before you say, 'No', take this into account: I wouldn't mind going back to prison, dude." at the end of a job interview. I paid close attention to what Larry would say next, feeling it was all important somehow.
"I plead the fifth!" Larry replied, giving me the thumbs-up sign. I smacked my forehead exasperatedly. To plead the fifth over something so trivial as a job seemed so incredibly stupid. Even I wasn't that stupid...At least, that's what I'd like to think.
"Why?" Payne inquired. I silently agreed. Why would Larry do that?
"Because, if I tell you where I work, you'll prove I worked with someone who would give me a reason to kill my darling Josephine. Then, you'll provide random pieces of evidence that link me to the murder. The defense tears my testimony apart, and everyone will be more sure than ever that I'm the murderer even though I'm not. I know how this works by now, dude," Larry answered. Everyone was silent for a while. So much for having an easy client and case...
"Come on, Larry," I finally spoke up, "What are the chances of that happening?"
"Dude, I've been a defendant over five times. That happens every single time, man. But, if you insist, then...I was a mailman."
"So was Mr. Sam Stud, a man the victim was seeing on the side. After the defendant found out what happened, he punched Mr. Stud in the nose."
"Objection! Hold your horses, Mr. Payne. You're accusing my client of premeditated murder, yet you're saying this was an act of rage? It's one or the other. Not both," I argued.
"...Why can't it be both?" the judge asked.
You have got to be kidding me!
"Simple, Your Honor. Because when you're enraged, you are incapable of planning anything. Surely you know that," I responded casually.
"Ah! Like the time I was so angry at a lawyer, I threw my gavel at him."
He did that?! "Anyway, I guess the defense makes an argument. Not a great one, but at least they have a point. So, Mr. Payne, which is it?" the judge questioned.
"Um...It was...." Winston began to reply.
"Think carefully about your answer, Mr. Payne," I interrupted.
"An act of rage..." he concluded. I slammed my hand on the table, feeling excited for a reason I still can't explain.
"If he was enraged, then why did he only hit Mr. Stud in the nose, and kill the victim, Ms. Smith? It doesn't make sense!" I shouted.
"My guess is because Mr. Stud could fight back," Winston answered coolly.
"Objection! My guess is that the prosecution's full of it!" I insisted. "I mean, if that's what he was afraid of, then why did he hit Mr. Stud in the first place?"
"There will be no swearing in my courtroom!" the judge bellowed.
"Um...I said, 'it', Your Honor. Not the 'S' word..." I said, my excitement starting to fade a little.
"Oh...My bad. Carry on," the judge responded sheepishly. "After, of course...I'm sorry, Mr. Credo, but I'm afraid I'll have to side with the prosecution on this one. Overruled." I cringed, feeling a little pain. Was that the oh-so-feared penalty?

"Why did you side with the prosecution? What Mr. Payne said clearly contradicts the facts of this case," I said feebly. The penalty certainly made me feel weaker for some reason.
"Do not question my judgment, Mr. Credo. I've been sitting behind this desk for years. You'll just have to trust that my call is fair," the judge responded. "It would certainly be much easier to go home and take it out on Ms. Smith than it would be to kill Mr. Stud, who is much taller than he is, as soon a he found out."
I still didn't see either Winston or the judge's reasoning, but I couldn't talk back to the judge without getting another penalty.
"And the evidence would be...This statue, correct?" I asked, pulling the data of the statue from the courtroom.
"That's right. It was a gift from Mr. Butz himself," Winston replied cockily.
"...Mr. Payne, couples give each other gifts like this all the time. Just because it happened to become the murder weapon doesn't mean as much as you think it does," I explained levelly. "According to the court-record, no fingerprints were found on the murder weapon, correct?"
"Yes," Winston responded.
"That means whoever did this was wearing gloves...Which means this murder was premeditated as you originally suspected," I said. Winston looked like he was about to say something, but I didn't give him the chance. "But that means my client no longer has a motive."
"W-what?! What do you mean?!" Winston shrieked.
"I mean that this whole "seeing someone on the side" business really means nothing if the murder was planned out. It was a pretty smart plan. Looked accidental enough to anyone. A murder like that would take more than simply being enraged! Do you remember this autopsy report? Nothing else besides this statue left a mark. Had this been an act of rage, he probably would have tried to hurt her before killing her, wouldn't you think?" I answered.
"Th-then...Then, what are you suggesting, Mr. Credo?"
"That someone else did this. Someone who knew about Ms. Smith's relationship with my client," I responded. "And who knew about that statue...We both know of one person who would know all about it. She was seeing him on the side after all."
"A-are you suggesting...That Mr. Stud did this?!" Winston inquired, shocked.
"Yes, I am," I replied. "Would you mind calling him to the stand, Mr. Payne?" I couldn't believe how calm I was. My pulse was racing. I was scared to death. Yet when I talked, I sounded like I actually knew what I was doing.
"Um...I would, but...He's in the hospital," Winston said hesitantly.
"What?!" I asked.
"He was shot earlier today," Winston answered.
"W-WHAAAAAT?!" I screamed over the spectators, who were talking among themselves. It was then I wondered: could I have ran right past the perpetrator that morning? Was there any way I could have stopped it? Regardless, one thing was painfully clear: those two cases were connected, and Larry couldn't have done either crime. So, who did and why? I would know as soon as they took the stand...

The judge let us go to a recess so the prosecution could prepare their next witness. I found it very strange that Larry wasn't even given the chance to testify. Perhaps Winston knew that the cases were related, so my client couldn't have done it? Or perhaps he thought since Larry had pleaded the fifth on his job, he'd do the same for his testimony. I wouldn't have been surprised in the least if he did that...
"Duuuuude," Larry said. "This is intense, man! I wonder who he'll call next."
"Um...Mr. Butz, may I have a word with you?" I asked nervously.
"Sure, dude. Whatcha wanna know?" Larry replied.
"Well, I was wondering what you were doing..." I started to say.
"Oh. I read ya. That night...I finally got over my anger at Josey after a couple days of thinking things over. I decided I'd forgive her, ya know? She will always be...My angel." He looked like he was on the verge of tears. "And when I walked in, I saw...J-Josey. Under my statue I made...Of her! Before I could do anything, I felt something hit the back of my head and...I thought it was a bad dream since I woke up at home, but..." His eyes grew huge, water pouring out of them. "Then I was arrested!"
"...I see. Thanks, Larry. I know it couldn't have been easy for you to tell me this," I responded. to the now crying Larry.
"Hey, dude. It's cool," Larry stated, the tears disappearing and his eyes shrinking back down to normal size. "I've had to tell stories like that all the time."
"I wish you didn't..." I said.
"Yeah, well, being accused of murder will make you do that. ...Why are you looking at me like that?" Larry asked.
"Oh. I'm sorry. You just...Reminded me of someone..." I replied. Don't think about him now. Not yet. "Well, looks like it's time to get back into the courtroom."
"But the trial won't continue for another five minutes, dude."
"I...Have to prepare some more..." I lied, dashing back inside the courtroom.

The judge slammed his gavel and the courtroom became silent.
"Your Honor, during the recess, I got the next witness to come here," Winston said.
"Then please call them to the stand, Mr. Payne," the judge responded. Then, he looked at me. "Mr. Credo, are you alright?" I was reflecting on a few things. The man my client so reminded me of.
"Being accused of murder will make you do that. Hahaha! I know with you, Geoffrey, as my attorney, I'll be just fine!" His booming voice rang through my head. Then, I looked at the judge.
"Huh?" I asked absentmindedly. The judge shook his head disapprovingly.
"Mr. Credo, if you're not going to pay attention, then..." he started.
"Sorry, Your Honor. I'm fine. Prepared as I can be," I interrupted, panicking over my blunder.
“That’s what I like to hear, Mr. Credo,” the judge said.
“The prosecution calls Mr. Krimes to the stand!” Winston shrieked. A very fat man with a fro walked over to the witness stand. He had horrible acne and wore glasses. His stomach folded around the witness stand so he could fit, and it looked like it would break any moment. “Name and occupation, please.”
“My name is Mr. Krimes. I’m a high school English teacher,” the fat man responded.
“Hold it!” I shouted forcefully. “Mr. Krimes. That’s an unusual name.”
“I guess I’m just overcompensating. My first name is Kamitsa,” Mr. Krimes stated. I stared at him for a moment. The name was a crazy coincidence.
“Your Honor, surely a wise and intelligent man such as yourself wouldn’t think my client is guilty after hearing…” I began.
“Objection!” Winston shouted. “The name has no relation to what kind of person he is, Mr. Credo. Mr. Krimes is a model citizen." Too bad he's a murderer... I thought.
“I agree with the prosecution,” the judge said. I couldn’t help but think the judge would regret that decision later.
“I apologize for the defense’s idiocy,” Winston stated. “Testify, Witness.”
“Yeah. Testify…Hey!” I shouted.

- -Witness Testimony- -

"I had just perambulated to my friend's house, which happened to be right across the street from Ms. Smith's.
Suddenly, I heard a bloodcurdling scream.
I looked outside and saw Mr. Butz fleeing the scene of the crime. Knife in hand.
I immediately called the police."
"I see. You may cross-examine, Mr. Credo," the judge said.
"Cross examine that?! But there's so much wrong with it, I don't know where to start," I responded.
"What do you mean, Mr. Credo? What's wrong with the testimony?" the judge asked.
"First of all, it was in the middle of the night when this murder occurred," I replied. "So he wouldn't have seen what was in my client's hands. And even if he could see it by a streetlight or something, this is the murder weapon!" I pulled out the picture of the bloody statue from the court-record. "Take that!" Mr. Krimes cringed.
"What are you suggesting, Mr. Credo?" Winston inquired.
"Simple, Mr. Payne. That Mr. Krimes...Is lying!" I answered. The spectators began to talk among themselves.

“Ha, ha, Mr. Credo,” Mr. Krimes said, shaking his head. “You nearly fooled me. I never said the knife was the murder weapon. I just said he was holding a knife-like object in his hand.”
“But that makes no sense! Why would he topple a statue on her if he had a knife?!” I asked, practically yelling.
“Why indeed, Mr. Credo?” Winston responded. He looked a little too calm, grinning smugly.
“So you have an explanation?” the judge inquired.
“Of course, Your Honor. What Mr. Krimes saw in Mr. Butz’s hand wasn’t a knife, though it was something similar.”
“S-something…Similar? But he said he saw a knife!” I shouted, trying to regain some momentum. But it didn’t work.
“He thought he saw a knife, Mr. Credo. But what he really saw…Was this!” Winston shouted, pulling out a green, sharp object.
“What’s that, Mr. Payne?” I asked, feigning calmness.
“Why don’t you tell us?” he retorted smugly. “Surely you noticed that something’s missing from the statue.”
“Something…Missing?” I probed.
“Something missing! Pull out the picture, Mr. Credo and tell us what is wrong with it," the judge ordered.
“But Mr. Payne’s the one who…” I began.
“Yes, Mr. Credo. Tell us what is wrong with the picture,” Winston interrupted. Relax, Ed, I thought. It can’t be too hard to figure out. What is missing here? I looked at the picture of the statue. On the head was a green crown, which was…Missing an end.
“T-the crown. It’s missing a piece,” I stuttered.
“Exactly,” Winston responded. He held the green thing in an evidence bag up proudly. “We found this is Mr. Butz’s pants pocket.”
“The court accepts this into evidence,” the judge said as I jotted down the information of the object.
“It has blood on it!” I shouted upon closer inspection.
“Yes, Mr. Credo. That would be the result of blood splatter,” Winston explained patronizingly.
“But why would my client have that in his pocket?” I wondered aloud.
“I have heard of killers who like to kill and then take souvenirs. Perhaps Mr. Butz is one of those,” Mr. Krimes interjected.
“It still seems crazy…” The judge banged his gavel.
“It seems as though that matter has been cleared up. I am ready to hand down my verdict…”
“No!” I shouted. “Your Honor, this cross-examination is far from over. I would like the witness to amend his testimony!”
“You’re digging your own grave, Mr. Credo,” Winston commented.
“Calm down, Mr. Credo. I was only joking,” the judge explained. That wasn’t funny, Your Honor. “Please, amend your testimony, Mr. Krimes.”
“Fine. I shall amend my testimony. I just hope Mr. Credo is not wasting everyone’s time with this,” Mr. Krimes said.

“I perambulated to a friend’s house, which happened to be across the street from Ms. Smith’s.
Suddenly, I heard a bloodcurdling scream.
I looked outside and saw Mr. Butz fleeing the scene of the crime.
I thought there was a knife in his hand, but it was actually the top part of a metal crown.
I immediately called the police,” Mr. Krimes testified. I listened intently. There were no outright contradictions, but there had to be more to it than that. In this situation, I…Press, right? Dang you, VonKarma. I need your help! I think I may have glared at the judge because he fidgeted behind the bench.
“You may proceed, Mr. Credo,” the judge said.
“Oh, yeah. I’ll get right on that. I’ll proceed the crap out of the witness!” I blurted nervously. The judge shook his head, so I added. “I-I mean…I’ll…Just do my thing now…” Smooth, Ed. Smooth.
“I perambulated to a friend’s house, which happened to be across the street from Ms. Smith’s.”
“Hold it!” I shouted forcefully, slamming my hand on the desk as hard as I could, a decision I instantly regretted as my hands stung. I tried to discreetly wave my hands so as to dull the pain.
“Mr. Credo, are you alright?” the judge asked.
“E-excuse me?” was my obviously-not-nervous reply.
“Well, your eyes grew as wide as dinner plates,” the judge pointed out.
“It was nothing, I just…” I began.
“He just realized that he was a stupid and naïve to take this case as Mr. Butz is so obviously guilty,” Winston interrupted. I’d like to say I came up with a clever response to this. Even something like, “At least I’m not as stupid as you,” or “stupid like your face!” would have been better than what I came up with. Now that I think about it, “That’s not what your mom said to me last night,” would have been a million times better than the response I gave him.
“Yes, I…H-hey! That wasn’t nice, you…Meanie poopy of a prosecutor,” I retorted. “A-anyway, Witness, this friend of yours…What’s their name?”
“I do not feel I need to divulge that information, Mr. Credo,” Mr. Krimes responded.
“B-but, this person could be a valuable witness…” I meekly asserted.
“Objection!” Winston shouted. “Mr. Credo, you’re wasting your time. We already checked on this friend of his, and they are in no condition to testify.”
“But…”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Credo,” the judge said. “But it looks like you’ll have to ask something less pointless.”
“Okay, Your Honor,” I conceded. “Continue, please, Witness.”
“Suddenly, I heard a blood curdling scream.”
“Hold it!” I shouted forcefully, slamming my hands on the desk forcefully yet again. Yeah, I don’t learn from my mistakes. But, in all fairness, it didn’t hurt as much the second time. “Did you hear anything else before or after that?”
“Yeah. I heard a ‘thud’ right after that,” Mr. Krimes answered. I smiled to myself.
“Your Honor, I would like that information to be added to the testimony,” I stated.
“Why? Is it important, Mr. Credo?” the judge inquired.
“It’s probably the most important thing he’s said all day long,” I replied with a self-satisfied smirk.
“Well, if you say so…Please add that to your testimony, Mr. Krimes,” the judge requested.

"I heard a 'thud' right after the scream," Mr. Krimes testified.
"Objection!" I screamed, extending my index finger at Mr. Krimes. "Do you think we're stupid?"
"I believe you are, Mr. Credo," Mr. Krimes replied. "What about it?"
"Ouch, Mr. Krimes. But you don't get it. Nothing you say will affect me. Not now that I know the truth," I commented.
"You're bluffing. If you knew the truth, you would have said it by now," Winston retorted.
"Oh, would I?" I asked calmly. "Or would I rather watch you squirm?" I wondered where all this was coming from.
"Order! Order!" the judge boomed. "If you know something we don't, please tell us, Mr. Credo."
"Simple, Your Honor. There was no way he could have heard the 'thud' from clear across the street. Even from a statue of this size," I said coolly.
"What are you suggesting, Mr. Credo?" the judge inquired.
"I am suggesting...That Mr. Krimes was somewhere else at the time of the murder," I answered.
"Hee, hee, hee," Winston laughed. "If what you say is true, then show us where he was on the map of the area."
"We...Have a map?" I asked, digging through the court-record. I found one folded up at the very bottom and blushed with embarrassment. "Er...Yes, well, Mr. Krimes...Would have to be right here!" I pointed to the red circle with the "k" in it.
"Mr. Credo, are you suggesting...That Mr. Krimes is the murderer?" the judge inquired.
"Yes, I am," I responded over the chatting spectators.
"Hee, hee, hee...Slow down, Mr. Credo. Let's not be hasty here," Winston said. "First of all, you don't have a shred of evidence linking him to the murder. Secondly, what about his motive? Mr. Krimes didn't know Ms. Smith."
"Er...You're right...He doesn't have a reason to kill her...Unless he was hired to do it!" I responded. The spectators were in an uproar at this.
"Order! Order! The next spectator to speak will be thrown out of my courtroom!" the judge bellowed. The spectators all quieted down. "Mr. Credo, this is a very serious accusation. Not only are you accusing this man of murder, you're saying someone hired him to do it. Who hired him?" I dug around in the court-record and pulled out his profile.
"Mr. Stud," I replied, holding up his profile.
"Really, Mr. Credo. I didn't expect you to sink so low as to accuse someone who is in the hospital of doing something like this," Winston said.
"Can you prove that Mr. Krimes was hired by someone?" the judge questioned.
"Er...You see this?" I answered, pulling out the tip of the crown. "This...this is something...That served the purpose of...Proof?" Hey, wait a minute...That makes sense! I thought.
"Proof! What are you talking about, Mr. Credo?" Winston inquired.
"I am talking about the proof that Mr. Krimes did it. This piece of statue wasn't supposed to be put in Larry's pocket. It was supposed to be used to prove Mr. Krimes murdered Ms. Smith so he could be payed!" I explained. "And without the proof, he didn't get payed. That's why Mr. Stud was shot! Well, Mr. Krimes?"
"...Ha! Hahahaha!" Mr. Krimes laughed. "That is a very good story, Mr. Credo. But that's all it is. A story. You don't have a shred of definitive evidence against me. None that wouldn't also implicate Mr. Butz."
"Ugh..." He's right. I have nothing... I thought.
"Wrong!" someone shouted. Mr. Stud strode toward the judge's bench.
"You," Mr. Krimes said with utter hatred in his voice. "I thought I killed you. I-" I grinned smugly. Winston Payne winced. And the judge stared in surprise.
"Your Honor, I will tell you everything that happened. And I won't leave out one detail. I would be going to prison anyway..." Mr. Stud sighed and told us everything. Apparently, Josephine saw him kill someone out of rage and threatened to tell the police about it. Mr. Stud needed to shut her up for good. But he couldn't do it without it looking suspicious, so he hired Mr. Krimes to do the dirty work for him. What I said was the truth. When Larry stumbled across the crime scene, Mr. Krimes panicked and planted the top part of the crown into Larry's pocket, thereby painting Larry as the killer. As such, he didn't have the proof on him to receive Mr. Stud's pay. That made Mr. Krimes so mad that he shot Mr. Stud.
"Hm...I see. In light of this new evidence, the court finds the defendant, Mr. Butz
NOT GUILTY!
Court is adjourned," the judge said when Mr. Stud was done explaining. I looked to Winston expectantly. But he didn't lose all his hair or anything. He just leaned against the desk forlornly. I could tell he was doubting himself. All those years as 'the rookie killer' and he loses to two rookies in the same week. I walked over to him.
"The world needs prosecutors, Mr. Payne. Just as much as it does defense attorneys," I comforted. Winston looked up at me.
"Whatever, Rookie," Winston responded. He turned pointedly and walked away. Before he walked out, he turned to me and said, "Thank you." I smiled as I walked out of the courtroom, through the confetti, and into the lobby.