[Scene] [Flashback] June, 2002
von Karma: *it's a dry, warm evening in June 2002. A black, high-end BMW pulls up to an ill-maintained driveway in front of a half-decrepit house. The man who steps out of the car is clad in a dark, full overcoat despite the warm weather. His expression is gaunt and impassive--as it has always been, and will always continue to be*
von Karma: *the man's heels click against the paved ground as he steps up to the door of the tiny bungalow. As he walks, his eyes seem to miss no detail of his surroundings--the raggedy yard, the dying tree by the entrance, some chew toy or such meant for a dog or some other sort of pet half hidden in the grass. He doesn't linger on any of these observations, but merely pulls his coat together and gives the door of the house two curt raps when he reaches the entrance*
Auntie: *at the sound of the knocking, there's a cacophony of shrill barks on the other side of the door. It sounds as if there's a half-dozen of them, but when a tall woman comes to the door, dressed in a purple shirt with flowers appliqued on the front and a pair of gray sweatpants, there's only three small dogs clamoring around her legs*
Auntie: *she shushes them, but doesn't put any kind of force into her voice. Then she turns her gaze to the man before her, giving him a somewhat confused up and down look* Hello?
von Karma: *keeps his eyes focused on her and... not on the dogs yipping at her feet. His features are as neutral as they can be* Madam Whitehouse, I take it? Prosecutor Manfred von Karma.
Auntie: *nods* Oh, right, right, sorry. I should have expected you early. Please, come on in. It's not much, or anything. *waves him into the house, sweeping the dogs aside as she motions for him to follow*
von Karma: *does not reply to that, but follows her on in* ...So he has been staying here these past six months.
Auntie: Yes, he was enrolled in the school but it just got out. *picks up a stack of old magazines off an easy chair and moves them to the table* Have a seat. *sits down on the sofa, and the three dogs immediately jump up onto her lap and settle down* So now he just spends all his time in that room of his.
von Karma: *frowns* I prefer to remain standing, thank you. *crosses his arms and does just that, just close enough to avoid being rude, but enough steps away from the sofa to avoid the yippy dogs and their scent--though really, the smell of those beasts is quite noticeable under the layer of stifling air freshener that pervades the room*
von Karma: *taps a finger lightly, repeatedly, against his arm* So he has not made any friends amongst his new set of peers. And he does not seem to be enjoying himself here.
Auntie: Not really. *scratches one of the dogs behind the ear and it swishes a stub of a tail* Frankly, Mr. von Karma, I don't know how to deal with him. I've never had children, and I'd never even met him. I wasn't even sure Gregory had a child, let alone a 9-year-old.
Auntie: *looks up at the Prosecutor, her eyes dispassionate* I'm pretty sure he doesn't like it here much, spending time with an old lady and her doggy kids all day long. He just stays in there and reads all the time. I thought of this as a temporary solution, to tell you the truth. But no one else has any bright ideas about what to do with him.
von Karma: As a father, I believe I understand. What the boy needs... is stimulation. He is still struggling to cope with the events of six months ago; he has been permitted to wallow and stagnate in the memory of his loss. *raises a critical eyebrow* What he needs is a focus, a guide to direct him to the answers he is searching for.
von Karma: *allows himself a slight smile as he continues* I can provide that guidance, madam. Should he choose it.
Auntie: *gives him a long stare, but doesn't really seem to see anything objectionable in him* Well, he needs to do something with himself, and I don't know what. Seems like a good alternative to me. Maybe he can get some answers from you that he can't get from me.
Auntie: *sounds almost dumbfounded* He keeps bringing me these huge books about law and asking me to help him read them! I bet he'd jump at the chance to have someone who understands those things.
von Karma: *there's a hint of amusement in his tone* I am indeed experienced with such 'things'. *he uncrosses his arms, and glances from the woman to the rest of the living space* The boy is in his room at the moment?
Auntie: Uh huh. *gestures vaguely over to a couple of stairs that open into a short hallway* It's the middle door.
von Karma: *nods* Excuse me. *turns and proceeds up those stairs--a disdainful scowl more clearly painted on his features once he leaves her presence*
von Karma: *reaches the middle door, and raps on it--twice, as before*
Miles: *looks up from the book he's reading* Great Aunt Lora?
von Karma: *opens the door when Miles speaks, though he remains near the doorway instead of stepping further into the room. He does not say anything; his eyes scrutinize the young boy carefully, seeming to weigh a number of factors based merely off Miles' appearance, posture, and what he is currently engaged in doing*
Miles: *as the door opens, a small Pekinese mix on the bed lifts its graying head, but it lays back down. Miles closes the comic book he's in the middle of reading and looks up at the face of the person in the doorway, leaning on his elbow on his impeccably made bed*
Miles: *for a moment, he looks as if he's confused, but then there's a shock of recognition and a faint expression that's as close as a 10-year-old can get to nostalgic. Then he tries to school his expression and sits up straighter* Y-you're Prosecutor von Karma! *there's a tremulous note in his voice*
von Karma: You remember me, then. *there is a hint of... what seems to be amusement to his tone as he takes a step further into the room, closing the door just enough so that dog of a woman down the stairs would not be able to hear their conversation*
Miles: *seems to struggle briefly. No one here tells him what to do but his dad told him to always be respectful of other lawyers, especially Prosecutor von Karma*
Miles: *leaving his comic book on the bed, he jumps down and gives a stiff bow* Y-yes sir. You knew my d-my father.
von Karma: I did. *and he leaves it at that. He doesn't return the bow, but instead begins to carefully unbutton his overcoat. His eyes flick over to the comic book spread out on the bed as he does so* What were you reading, boy?
Miles: *glances back at the book.* B-batman. *is abruptly embarrassed for reasons he doesn't understand, and finishes lamely:* It's a comic book.
von Karma: *raises an eyebrow but says nothing further on it; his disproval hangs obvious in the air. He removes his overcoat, draping it over an arm* I had heard you were studying legal texts.
Miles: *nods, walking over to a stack of books with titles like "Human Rights, Judicial Review and the Mentally Disordered Offender"* Yes... sir. I don't really understand them very well, though.
von Karma: Hn. *walks over to the desk in the room* Show me what you have been looking at.
Miles: *nods, going over to the pile of books and picking one up* I'm trying to figure it out. None of my teachers had any answers for me, and neither did any of the people at the courthouse. So I got these books. *picks up a copy of "Guides to the Evaluation of Permanent Impairment, Fifth Edition"* But the words are really hard. I still don't get it.
von Karma: *pulls out the chair at the desk, turning it slightly towards Miles' direction*
von Karma: *smiles gauntly* Reading can only get one so far. You will need experience before you will understand fully. *he looks to Miles* However--you want to learn, don't you?
Miles: *he hops onto the chair* Yes! *earnestly* I thought- *bites his lip and cuts off* It's confusing. I thought that law was about putting the bad guy in jail. But this time... *looks away, crossing his arms*
von Karma: *his gaze is fixed on Miles carefully* But this time the true murderer was able to worm away.
Miles: *bites his lip again, nodding with his eyes averted, and then when he turns back to the prosecutor, his eyes are wet. However, the overwhelming emotion in them is not sadness, but anger. He clenches his fists on his lap* It's not fair.
von Karma: *there's just a fraction of a pause as he notes the boy's expression--his own features are devoid of emotion* Do you know why he was able to get away, Miles?
Miles: *shakes his head, eyes still locked with the prosecutor's* I can't figure it out. *his voice is so bitter that it sounds abnormal coming from such a young boy's mouth*
von Karma: The man's defense attorney. He used a despicable tactic... As the great majority of them are wont to do. They let the guilty go free, as in this case.
Miles: *bows his head slightly but keeps his eyes on von Karma* B- but my father was a defense attorney... he saved people who weren't guilty. I thought defense attorneys were good.
von Karma: And how can one tell that a person is "not guilty"? In the same manner that this Yanni Yogi was declared not guilty? Defense attorneys merely choose to believe their clients are innocent. Then, they fight tooth and nail to have those men acquitted of their crimes.
von Karma: Your father... *there's just a trace of a hiss in his voice before it steadies to his even, low tone again* May have been foolishly well-intentioned. However, all defense attorneys eventually succumb to temptation. *leans down towards Miles* And then tragedy strikes again. Those freed murderers commit new crimes. The innocent and the weak die by their hands. Because these defense attorneys allow them to do so.
Miles: *listens to this, his expression conflicted between disbelief and defensiveness at the start, but as von Karma continues, he sombers. There's a short silence as he processes the complicated speech, and as he thinks his face becomes more and more bitter and wounded* I...
Miles: *looks back up, and there's a determined cast to his features* I want to stop them.
von Karma: ...You do, do you. And do you know how to do so?
Miles: *frowns thoughtfully, and casts a glance back to the comic book on his bed, then a brief guilty look back up to von Karma* Well. *gets the sense that von Karma wants a specific answer here, but he's not quite sure what it is. He glances at the books on his desk, as if they'd have the answers* I dunno...
Miles: Wait. *looks up at von Karma, suddenly grasping it* You do that. You're a prosecutor... *he pauses, looking suddenly nervous. There's a pleading in his expression that he attempts to smack down*
von Karma: *he smiles--it's quite a cruel one, and he cannot hide that* I am.
von Karma: ...And I would be willing to mentor a student. But only one who would be willing to apply himself--someone devoted to stopping such criminals and the lawyers who allow them to run amok.
Miles: *seems to hesitate, as if he sees the intent behind the smile. He looks as if he's thinking very hard about what to say next. Raised in a home that was largely absent of religion, he really has no concept of the idea of selling one's soul to the devil, but he feels something distantly familiar and unsettling about the offer that's being made*
Miles: *looks down at his hands and clenches them for a moment, and briefly he gives a jerk of his head to the side that almost makes it look as if he's going to get up, walk away, break free of the suffocating presence of the intimidating prosecutor. But instead...* I... I get very good grades in school, Mr. von Karma. *meets the older man's eyes again with a determined flash* I study a lot.
von Karma: You will have to work harder than that. You would have to devote all of your time to the study of law to perfect it; to perfect yourself. *his eyes glint, studying Miles' features again* ...I am a demanding teacher, boy.
Miles: Th-then I wouldn't be doing regular school? *There's something almost hopeful in his voice. But he goes on, his face is almost expressionless* I want to understand, Mr. von Karma, and no one else will teach me. No one else knows how. *there's a twitching beneath his features as he finishes* I can be perfect if I need to, to make it so no one else's murderer gets away.
von Karma: Hmph. No, you would not be attending 'public' school. And you would need to be under my constant supervision.
von Karma: Tell me, boy--do you enjoy living here with this woman and her train of dogs? *he makes no attempt to curtail the disgust in his words*
Miles: *blinks at the dog on the bed and says quietly,* W-well I like Bailey but the rest of them are really loud. And Great Aunt Lora... *finishes diplomatically* tries to feed me grapefruits for breakfast.
von Karma: Hah! *pauses for a moment, and when he speaks again his voice is weighted* Then come live with my family. Your great aunt seems all too eager to sanction the idea; I will propose it to her formally ... if you are willing. *there's a strange, contemplative note in his voice* ...I have two daughters, but I do not have a son.
Miles: *he starts at the last statement, and his heart flutters like a rabbit's* Y- I... *brings his hand to his forehead and runs small fingers through his bangs, scratching his head more anxiously than anything and looking down at the floor. He bites his lip, and hard. When he finally speaks, his voice comes out squeaky and close to a whisper* ...A-all right.
von Karma: Very well. *clasps a firm hand on the boy's shoulder for just a moment--and then removes it, standing back upright* I will go speak to your aunt.
Miles: *looks wide-eyed at the prosecutor and nods, his hand drifting up to rub his shoulder where von Karma had held it* Okay.
von Karma: *folds his arms and stands there, scrutinizing Miles carefully again in stony silence. He does so for a good minute before leaving the room without another word said*
Miles: *turns towards the desk, putting his hands on the edge of it and gripping gently. His eyes track over the titles of the books he has in a stack there, and slowly the conflicted frown on his face turns to a small, determined smile*
von Karma: *the man's heels click against the paved ground as he steps up to the door of the tiny bungalow. As he walks, his eyes seem to miss no detail of his surroundings--the raggedy yard, the dying tree by the entrance, some chew toy or such meant for a dog or some other sort of pet half hidden in the grass. He doesn't linger on any of these observations, but merely pulls his coat together and gives the door of the house two curt raps when he reaches the entrance*
Auntie: *at the sound of the knocking, there's a cacophony of shrill barks on the other side of the door. It sounds as if there's a half-dozen of them, but when a tall woman comes to the door, dressed in a purple shirt with flowers appliqued on the front and a pair of gray sweatpants, there's only three small dogs clamoring around her legs*
Auntie: *she shushes them, but doesn't put any kind of force into her voice. Then she turns her gaze to the man before her, giving him a somewhat confused up and down look* Hello?
von Karma: *keeps his eyes focused on her and... not on the dogs yipping at her feet. His features are as neutral as they can be* Madam Whitehouse, I take it? Prosecutor Manfred von Karma.
Auntie: *nods* Oh, right, right, sorry. I should have expected you early. Please, come on in. It's not much, or anything. *waves him into the house, sweeping the dogs aside as she motions for him to follow*
von Karma: *does not reply to that, but follows her on in* ...So he has been staying here these past six months.
Auntie: Yes, he was enrolled in the school but it just got out. *picks up a stack of old magazines off an easy chair and moves them to the table* Have a seat. *sits down on the sofa, and the three dogs immediately jump up onto her lap and settle down* So now he just spends all his time in that room of his.
von Karma: *frowns* I prefer to remain standing, thank you. *crosses his arms and does just that, just close enough to avoid being rude, but enough steps away from the sofa to avoid the yippy dogs and their scent--though really, the smell of those beasts is quite noticeable under the layer of stifling air freshener that pervades the room*
von Karma: *taps a finger lightly, repeatedly, against his arm* So he has not made any friends amongst his new set of peers. And he does not seem to be enjoying himself here.
Auntie: Not really. *scratches one of the dogs behind the ear and it swishes a stub of a tail* Frankly, Mr. von Karma, I don't know how to deal with him. I've never had children, and I'd never even met him. I wasn't even sure Gregory had a child, let alone a 9-year-old.
Auntie: *looks up at the Prosecutor, her eyes dispassionate* I'm pretty sure he doesn't like it here much, spending time with an old lady and her doggy kids all day long. He just stays in there and reads all the time. I thought of this as a temporary solution, to tell you the truth. But no one else has any bright ideas about what to do with him.
von Karma: As a father, I believe I understand. What the boy needs... is stimulation. He is still struggling to cope with the events of six months ago; he has been permitted to wallow and stagnate in the memory of his loss. *raises a critical eyebrow* What he needs is a focus, a guide to direct him to the answers he is searching for.
von Karma: *allows himself a slight smile as he continues* I can provide that guidance, madam. Should he choose it.
Auntie: *gives him a long stare, but doesn't really seem to see anything objectionable in him* Well, he needs to do something with himself, and I don't know what. Seems like a good alternative to me. Maybe he can get some answers from you that he can't get from me.
Auntie: *sounds almost dumbfounded* He keeps bringing me these huge books about law and asking me to help him read them! I bet he'd jump at the chance to have someone who understands those things.
von Karma: *there's a hint of amusement in his tone* I am indeed experienced with such 'things'. *he uncrosses his arms, and glances from the woman to the rest of the living space* The boy is in his room at the moment?
Auntie: Uh huh. *gestures vaguely over to a couple of stairs that open into a short hallway* It's the middle door.
von Karma: *nods* Excuse me. *turns and proceeds up those stairs--a disdainful scowl more clearly painted on his features once he leaves her presence*
von Karma: *reaches the middle door, and raps on it--twice, as before*
Miles: *looks up from the book he's reading* Great Aunt Lora?
von Karma: *opens the door when Miles speaks, though he remains near the doorway instead of stepping further into the room. He does not say anything; his eyes scrutinize the young boy carefully, seeming to weigh a number of factors based merely off Miles' appearance, posture, and what he is currently engaged in doing*
Miles: *as the door opens, a small Pekinese mix on the bed lifts its graying head, but it lays back down. Miles closes the comic book he's in the middle of reading and looks up at the face of the person in the doorway, leaning on his elbow on his impeccably made bed*
Miles: *for a moment, he looks as if he's confused, but then there's a shock of recognition and a faint expression that's as close as a 10-year-old can get to nostalgic. Then he tries to school his expression and sits up straighter* Y-you're Prosecutor von Karma! *there's a tremulous note in his voice*
von Karma: You remember me, then. *there is a hint of... what seems to be amusement to his tone as he takes a step further into the room, closing the door just enough so that dog of a woman down the stairs would not be able to hear their conversation*
Miles: *seems to struggle briefly. No one here tells him what to do but his dad told him to always be respectful of other lawyers, especially Prosecutor von Karma*
Miles: *leaving his comic book on the bed, he jumps down and gives a stiff bow* Y-yes sir. You knew my d-my father.
von Karma: I did. *and he leaves it at that. He doesn't return the bow, but instead begins to carefully unbutton his overcoat. His eyes flick over to the comic book spread out on the bed as he does so* What were you reading, boy?
Miles: *glances back at the book.* B-batman. *is abruptly embarrassed for reasons he doesn't understand, and finishes lamely:* It's a comic book.
von Karma: *raises an eyebrow but says nothing further on it; his disproval hangs obvious in the air. He removes his overcoat, draping it over an arm* I had heard you were studying legal texts.
Miles: *nods, walking over to a stack of books with titles like "Human Rights, Judicial Review and the Mentally Disordered Offender"* Yes... sir. I don't really understand them very well, though.
von Karma: Hn. *walks over to the desk in the room* Show me what you have been looking at.
Miles: *nods, going over to the pile of books and picking one up* I'm trying to figure it out. None of my teachers had any answers for me, and neither did any of the people at the courthouse. So I got these books. *picks up a copy of "Guides to the Evaluation of Permanent Impairment, Fifth Edition"* But the words are really hard. I still don't get it.
von Karma: *pulls out the chair at the desk, turning it slightly towards Miles' direction*
von Karma: *smiles gauntly* Reading can only get one so far. You will need experience before you will understand fully. *he looks to Miles* However--you want to learn, don't you?
Miles: *he hops onto the chair* Yes! *earnestly* I thought- *bites his lip and cuts off* It's confusing. I thought that law was about putting the bad guy in jail. But this time... *looks away, crossing his arms*
von Karma: *his gaze is fixed on Miles carefully* But this time the true murderer was able to worm away.
Miles: *bites his lip again, nodding with his eyes averted, and then when he turns back to the prosecutor, his eyes are wet. However, the overwhelming emotion in them is not sadness, but anger. He clenches his fists on his lap* It's not fair.
von Karma: *there's just a fraction of a pause as he notes the boy's expression--his own features are devoid of emotion* Do you know why he was able to get away, Miles?
Miles: *shakes his head, eyes still locked with the prosecutor's* I can't figure it out. *his voice is so bitter that it sounds abnormal coming from such a young boy's mouth*
von Karma: The man's defense attorney. He used a despicable tactic... As the great majority of them are wont to do. They let the guilty go free, as in this case.
Miles: *bows his head slightly but keeps his eyes on von Karma* B- but my father was a defense attorney... he saved people who weren't guilty. I thought defense attorneys were good.
von Karma: And how can one tell that a person is "not guilty"? In the same manner that this Yanni Yogi was declared not guilty? Defense attorneys merely choose to believe their clients are innocent. Then, they fight tooth and nail to have those men acquitted of their crimes.
von Karma: Your father... *there's just a trace of a hiss in his voice before it steadies to his even, low tone again* May have been foolishly well-intentioned. However, all defense attorneys eventually succumb to temptation. *leans down towards Miles* And then tragedy strikes again. Those freed murderers commit new crimes. The innocent and the weak die by their hands. Because these defense attorneys allow them to do so.
Miles: *listens to this, his expression conflicted between disbelief and defensiveness at the start, but as von Karma continues, he sombers. There's a short silence as he processes the complicated speech, and as he thinks his face becomes more and more bitter and wounded* I...
Miles: *looks back up, and there's a determined cast to his features* I want to stop them.
von Karma: ...You do, do you. And do you know how to do so?
Miles: *frowns thoughtfully, and casts a glance back to the comic book on his bed, then a brief guilty look back up to von Karma* Well. *gets the sense that von Karma wants a specific answer here, but he's not quite sure what it is. He glances at the books on his desk, as if they'd have the answers* I dunno...
Miles: Wait. *looks up at von Karma, suddenly grasping it* You do that. You're a prosecutor... *he pauses, looking suddenly nervous. There's a pleading in his expression that he attempts to smack down*
von Karma: *he smiles--it's quite a cruel one, and he cannot hide that* I am.
von Karma: ...And I would be willing to mentor a student. But only one who would be willing to apply himself--someone devoted to stopping such criminals and the lawyers who allow them to run amok.
Miles: *seems to hesitate, as if he sees the intent behind the smile. He looks as if he's thinking very hard about what to say next. Raised in a home that was largely absent of religion, he really has no concept of the idea of selling one's soul to the devil, but he feels something distantly familiar and unsettling about the offer that's being made*
Miles: *looks down at his hands and clenches them for a moment, and briefly he gives a jerk of his head to the side that almost makes it look as if he's going to get up, walk away, break free of the suffocating presence of the intimidating prosecutor. But instead...* I... I get very good grades in school, Mr. von Karma. *meets the older man's eyes again with a determined flash* I study a lot.
von Karma: You will have to work harder than that. You would have to devote all of your time to the study of law to perfect it; to perfect yourself. *his eyes glint, studying Miles' features again* ...I am a demanding teacher, boy.
Miles: Th-then I wouldn't be doing regular school? *There's something almost hopeful in his voice. But he goes on, his face is almost expressionless* I want to understand, Mr. von Karma, and no one else will teach me. No one else knows how. *there's a twitching beneath his features as he finishes* I can be perfect if I need to, to make it so no one else's murderer gets away.
von Karma: Hmph. No, you would not be attending 'public' school. And you would need to be under my constant supervision.
von Karma: Tell me, boy--do you enjoy living here with this woman and her train of dogs? *he makes no attempt to curtail the disgust in his words*
Miles: *blinks at the dog on the bed and says quietly,* W-well I like Bailey but the rest of them are really loud. And Great Aunt Lora... *finishes diplomatically* tries to feed me grapefruits for breakfast.
von Karma: Hah! *pauses for a moment, and when he speaks again his voice is weighted* Then come live with my family. Your great aunt seems all too eager to sanction the idea; I will propose it to her formally ... if you are willing. *there's a strange, contemplative note in his voice* ...I have two daughters, but I do not have a son.
Miles: *he starts at the last statement, and his heart flutters like a rabbit's* Y- I... *brings his hand to his forehead and runs small fingers through his bangs, scratching his head more anxiously than anything and looking down at the floor. He bites his lip, and hard. When he finally speaks, his voice comes out squeaky and close to a whisper* ...A-all right.
von Karma: Very well. *clasps a firm hand on the boy's shoulder for just a moment--and then removes it, standing back upright* I will go speak to your aunt.
Miles: *looks wide-eyed at the prosecutor and nods, his hand drifting up to rub his shoulder where von Karma had held it* Okay.
von Karma: *folds his arms and stands there, scrutinizing Miles carefully again in stony silence. He does so for a good minute before leaving the room without another word said*
Miles: *turns towards the desk, putting his hands on the edge of it and gripping gently. His eyes track over the titles of the books he has in a stack there, and slowly the conflicted frown on his face turns to a small, determined smile*