DL6 AU - The Demon Attorney
The Demon Attorney
Hammond didn’t trust Yogi with his plan for the trial. The case he had built was perfect, and he couldn’t risk his client doing anything... stupid.
The trial came, and Hammond was eager to win - eager to maintain his reputation at all odds. When the detective assigned to the case took to the stand, he put forth Yogi’s own gun as the murder weapon, and explained that there was only one set of fingerprints found on the handle and trigger. Yogi’s.
‘OBJECTION!’ The rush Hammond felt when pointing out a contradiction was second to none. Even the birth of his son was only a close second to this overwhelming feeling of triumph. He had this case in the bag. ‘You claim that the fingerprints on this gun belong to my client, yes?’
‘Indeed...’ the detective said, not following.
‘But there is a contradiction in the evidence! My client’s fingerprints were not the only set found on the murder weapon! I requested a further examination of the gun, and there were additional prints found on the barrel. These prints don’t belong to Mr. Yogi.’
‘Then who do they belong to, Mr. Hammond?’ the judge asked.
Hammond smirked and crossed his arms. The prosecutor was hiding his shock poorly. ‘Would you look at this piece of evidence, Your Honour?’ He unfolded his arms and motioned to a page of data. At the judge’s affirmative, a court bailiff took the data from the defence bench to the judge. ‘Could you tell me what you see?’
The judge read the data and reeled back in shock. ‘Why, these fingerprints on the barrel! They’re much smaller than the defendant’s!’
‘Yes, Your Honour.’ Hammond nodded. ‘I requested a comparison of the witness in this case. The fingerprints on the barrel match those of the third occupant.’
‘Th-third occupant?’ the prosecutor spluttered. ‘But that’s the victim’s son! Why would a nine year old boy’s fingerprints be on the murder weapon?’
‘Detective!’ the judge spoke over the prosecution. ‘Is this true?’
The detective swallowed. ‘Y-yes, Your Honour. Miles Edgeworth’s prints were found on the weapon.’
‘Why didn’t I hear about this?’ the prosecutor demanded.
‘Simple,’ Hammond said smugly. He had years of experience compared to the rookie’s meagre five previous cases. ‘I ordered the search. The information belongs to the defence.’ He smirked. ‘If only you had been more thorough, perhaps you would have caught it? After all, the responsibility of the investigation falls on the prosecutor of the case.’ The rookie gritted his teeth, and Hammond was satisfied. ‘Your Honour? Perhaps the prosecution would like to call the boy to the stand.’
The judge nodded, and granted the prosecution a ten-minute recess to prepare the boy’s testimony.
‘Would the witness please state his name and grade in school?’
Miles wrung his hands, not quite looking the members of the court in the eyes. ‘M-Miles Edgeworth... I’m in fourth grade.’
The judge, Hammond knew, had a young child of his own. He clearly took pity on the grieving boy, as he said, ‘Would the defence and prosecution both remember that this witness is still a young boy, moreover, he is the child of the victim? Please exercise discretion when questioning him.’
‘Very well. Mr. Edgeworth, could you tell the court what you witnessed on the day of the incident?’
Miles nodded absently and spoke with a shaky voice. ‘I had gone to watch my father’s trial that day. We were both leaving through the elevator. There was an earthquake... we... we were in there for a long time.’
‘How long were you in the elevator for, exactly?’
Miles’s eyes were wide and he stumbled over his words when he answered. ‘F-five... five hours, I think.’
Hammond nodded, noting how scared the boy seemed. ‘Please, continue with your testimony.’
Miles nodded. ‘I don’t remember much, other than that my father and Mr. Yogi were arguing. I’m not sure what about. I passed out afterwards.’
‘The witness was suffering from oxygen deprivation at the time,’ the prosecutor explained. ‘His medical records confirm that he is still suffering from memory loss attributing to damage done by the lack of oxygen. It is not so unnatural that he doesn’t remember what happened during the incident.’
Hammond ‘hmph’ed. ‘Indeed, or perhaps the boy is lying to the court.’
‘What?’ The prosecutor looked furious. ‘That’s ridiculous! Do you have any evidence to support your assumption, or have you found no contradictions?’
Getting the hang of your profession now, are we? Hammond merely shook his head condescendingly. ‘You’re so green, Prosecutor. Look at the boy’s face.’
The boy in question was whiter than the judge’s beard, and had taken to clutching his arms so tightly that Hammond was sure there would be deep marks from his nails.
‘The witness is being forced to relive a traumatic event!’
‘Perhaps,’ Hammond was not truly conceding the point - and he let be known through his disbelieving tone. ‘Mr. Edgeworth, what are you hiding? Tell us what you really remember!’
‘I-...’
‘OBJECTION!’ The prosecution was now glaring at Hammond. ‘Your Honour, the defence is badgering the witness!’
The judge banged his gavel. ‘Objection sustained. The defence will discontinue this line of questioning... unless you have evidence to prove your point?’
Hammond clenched his fists. I ought to wipe that smug look from your face, rookie. ‘No further questions, Your Honour.’
‘In that case, the witness may step down from the stand.’ Miles did so, and was led by a court bailiff back to the lobby. ‘Does the prosecution have any more witnesses?’
‘Yes, Your Honour. The prosecution would like to call the defendant, Yanni Yogi, to the stand.’
‘Very well.’
Yogi was brought forwards. He looked uncomfortable, and Hammond was sure that he could detect a hint of regret in his eyes. Hammond had never lost a case in his career, but he had a feeling that Yogi was just starting to catch on to his plan.
‘Mr. Yogi,’ the prosecutor said. ‘The court would like to hear your version of the events.’
‘Yes sir,’ Yogi started. ‘I was in the elevator with Mr. Edgeworth and his son. There was an earthquake, and we were trapped there for about five hours. The air was getting thick - we were running out of oxygen and... I panicked.’
‘Hold it! What did you do?’
Yogi looked down at his hands. ‘I... I attacked him - Gregory Edgeworth, that is. I was scared for my life!’
Damn you, Yogi. You’ve made this case a lot harder to win. Hammond didn’t let his frustration show. ‘Can you elaborate? How exactly did you ‘attack’ the victim?’
‘I pulled my gun out, but he knocked it out of my hand, so I tried choking him instead.’
You’re starting to piss me off, Yogi. ‘Did you intend to murder Mr. Edgeworth?’
‘N-no, sir! Mr. Edgeworth was a good man, if I was thinking straight, I wouldn’t have attacked him!’
Hammond pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Very well... what happened next?’
‘Well, after Mr. Edgeworth kicked the gun away, it wasn’t that long until we both started to lose consciousness. The only thing I remember was something hitting my back.’
‘What was it that hit you? Tell the court!’ This is it! This is what will win me this case!
Yogi was chewing his bottom lip. ‘I’m not sure. It felt heavy, so it must have been the gun.’
‘I agree.’ Hammond smirked. This was leading him back to Miles Edgeworth’s fingerprints. ‘The only person who could have thrown it was the boy... continue, Mr. Yogi.’
‘There’s something else! Just before I lost consciousness, I heard a gunshot.’
‘And how long after the gun hit you was this?’
‘Almost immediately, sir.’
Hammond chuckled. He crossed his arms and allowed his posture to relax. ‘Your Honour? I believe that the defendant’s testimony proves his innocence.’
The judge frowned and observed Hammond over his glasses. ‘How so?’
‘Shall we look at what we can infer from the testimony? The boy, who was nine years old at the time, was trapped in the elevator with the victim and the defendant. The two men began to fight. Naturally, the boy would be scared for his father’s life! When the victim knocked the gun out of Mr. Yogi’s hand, the boy picked it up by the barrel - which explains how his fingerprints ended up there. He must have thrown it at Mr. Yogi in an attempt to stop the fight!’
‘Yes,’ the prosecutor interjected. ‘But how does that prove Mr. Yogi’s innocence?’
Hammond laughed, smirking at the rookie. ‘When the young Mr. Edgeworth threw the gun, it hit Mr. Yogi in the back. It was then that my client heard the gunshot. As Mr. Edgeworth died from a gunshot wound, it can be deduced that the murder weapon discharged when it hit Mr. Yogi.’
‘Are you saying that the victim’s son is the murderer?’ the prosecutor sounded horrified by the very idea.
Hammond nodded.
‘OBJECTION! Look at the crime scene photo! There was a bullet hole in the window of the elevator. Moreover, the gun was fired twice! When the gun discharged, the bullet went through the window!’
‘I disagree,’ Hammond said flatly. ‘It is not entirely implausible to assume that when the pistol hit the floor after being thrown that the gun discharged a second time.’
‘OBJECTION! What proof do you have of that?’
‘OBJECTION! What proof do you have that it didn’t happen? If you look at this piece of evidence,’ he held up a bag carrying the shirt Yogi wore on the day of the incident, ‘You’ll see that forensics did not find any traces of gun powder on either of the sleeves. However, they did find traces on the back of the uniform-.’
‘OBJECTION! Your Honour! The defence withheld evidence from the court!’
‘OBJECTION! I could not prove the shirt’s relevance until after the defendant told us that the gun hit him in the back.’
The prosecutor slammed his fists on the bench. ‘NO! This can’t be true!’
The judge shook his head. ‘Perhaps we should hear from the witness a second time. Bailiff! Bring in the witness!’
When Miles stood at the stand a second time, his face was drawn, and his entire body was shaking. He looked up at the judge with hollow and sunken eyes. His mouth was open and trembling as though he wanted to speak, but couldn’t. Hammond was disinterested, however. He directed a smirk towards the prosecution. ‘Are you still going to defend the boy? My client is innocent - you know that.’
The prosecution shook his head. ‘The witness has yet to make a statement. Mr. Edgeworth, I trust you understand the implications of what the defence has said?’
The boy’s head lifted slowly, lingering only for a moment before dropping again, as he shrunk into himself.
‘What do you have to say, Mr. Edgeworth?’ Hammond pressed.
‘I don’t remember what happened...’ the boy spoke just above a murmur.
‘Come now, Mr. Edgeworth,’ Hammond said. ‘We know that you know what really happened in that elevator.’
‘No...’
‘Your father and the defendant were fighting, and you were scared. You picked up the gun and threw it at my client, didn’t you?’
‘No! I- I didn’t!
‘You threw the gun! Your heard the gunshot - the moment the victim died! Tell the truth! Don’t let an innocent man go to jail!’
‘Stop it! I didn’t do it!’
‘Miles Edgeworth! You threw the gun that killed your father! You killed him!’
‘NNNGHHOOOOH!’ the boy screamed, fingernails digging into his scalp.
The courtroom was silent. The judge and prosecution watched Miles with pity - looks that made Hammond sick to his stomach. You’re going to pity a murderer? Don’t make me laugh, you fools!
Finally, after a long moment, Miles started to speak. ‘I-.’
‘OBJECTION!’
Hammond looked around. The shout didn’t come from the prosecutor, nor did it come from the judge. But where...? No. He wouldn’t...!
Yogi had stood from the defendant’s box, face full of fury directed at his attorney. ‘This is wrong! He’s just a boy! How can you condemn him?’
‘Mr. Yogi-!’
‘No. I confess. It was me.’
The judge straightened. Hammond watched in horror as the case slipped through his fingertips. ‘You confess?’
Yogi - the bastard - nodded. ‘Yes. I lied in my testimony. The gunshot I heard - that was the one that caused the hole in the window. When the boy fell unconscious, I took that as my moment to kill his father.’ His stare hardened, still fixed upon Hammond. ‘I won’t let you convict a child of murder.’
‘Mr. Yogi...’ Miles’s whisper was unheard over the shouts of the audience in the gallery. The courtroom erupted into chaos at the defendant’s confession - the judge banged his gavel in a feeble attempt to restore order.
And Hammond watched as though from afar. I lost... I can’t believe I lost.
Hammond didn’t trust Yogi with his plan for the trial. The case he had built was perfect, and he couldn’t risk his client doing anything... stupid.
The trial came, and Hammond was eager to win - eager to maintain his reputation at all odds. When the detective assigned to the case took to the stand, he put forth Yogi’s own gun as the murder weapon, and explained that there was only one set of fingerprints found on the handle and trigger. Yogi’s.
‘OBJECTION!’ The rush Hammond felt when pointing out a contradiction was second to none. Even the birth of his son was only a close second to this overwhelming feeling of triumph. He had this case in the bag. ‘You claim that the fingerprints on this gun belong to my client, yes?’
‘Indeed...’ the detective said, not following.
‘But there is a contradiction in the evidence! My client’s fingerprints were not the only set found on the murder weapon! I requested a further examination of the gun, and there were additional prints found on the barrel. These prints don’t belong to Mr. Yogi.’
‘Then who do they belong to, Mr. Hammond?’ the judge asked.
Hammond smirked and crossed his arms. The prosecutor was hiding his shock poorly. ‘Would you look at this piece of evidence, Your Honour?’ He unfolded his arms and motioned to a page of data. At the judge’s affirmative, a court bailiff took the data from the defence bench to the judge. ‘Could you tell me what you see?’
The judge read the data and reeled back in shock. ‘Why, these fingerprints on the barrel! They’re much smaller than the defendant’s!’
‘Yes, Your Honour.’ Hammond nodded. ‘I requested a comparison of the witness in this case. The fingerprints on the barrel match those of the third occupant.’
‘Th-third occupant?’ the prosecutor spluttered. ‘But that’s the victim’s son! Why would a nine year old boy’s fingerprints be on the murder weapon?’
‘Detective!’ the judge spoke over the prosecution. ‘Is this true?’
The detective swallowed. ‘Y-yes, Your Honour. Miles Edgeworth’s prints were found on the weapon.’
‘Why didn’t I hear about this?’ the prosecutor demanded.
‘Simple,’ Hammond said smugly. He had years of experience compared to the rookie’s meagre five previous cases. ‘I ordered the search. The information belongs to the defence.’ He smirked. ‘If only you had been more thorough, perhaps you would have caught it? After all, the responsibility of the investigation falls on the prosecutor of the case.’ The rookie gritted his teeth, and Hammond was satisfied. ‘Your Honour? Perhaps the prosecution would like to call the boy to the stand.’
The judge nodded, and granted the prosecution a ten-minute recess to prepare the boy’s testimony.
‘Would the witness please state his name and grade in school?’
Miles wrung his hands, not quite looking the members of the court in the eyes. ‘M-Miles Edgeworth... I’m in fourth grade.’
The judge, Hammond knew, had a young child of his own. He clearly took pity on the grieving boy, as he said, ‘Would the defence and prosecution both remember that this witness is still a young boy, moreover, he is the child of the victim? Please exercise discretion when questioning him.’
‘Very well. Mr. Edgeworth, could you tell the court what you witnessed on the day of the incident?’
Miles nodded absently and spoke with a shaky voice. ‘I had gone to watch my father’s trial that day. We were both leaving through the elevator. There was an earthquake... we... we were in there for a long time.’
‘How long were you in the elevator for, exactly?’
Miles’s eyes were wide and he stumbled over his words when he answered. ‘F-five... five hours, I think.’
Hammond nodded, noting how scared the boy seemed. ‘Please, continue with your testimony.’
Miles nodded. ‘I don’t remember much, other than that my father and Mr. Yogi were arguing. I’m not sure what about. I passed out afterwards.’
‘The witness was suffering from oxygen deprivation at the time,’ the prosecutor explained. ‘His medical records confirm that he is still suffering from memory loss attributing to damage done by the lack of oxygen. It is not so unnatural that he doesn’t remember what happened during the incident.’
Hammond ‘hmph’ed. ‘Indeed, or perhaps the boy is lying to the court.’
‘What?’ The prosecutor looked furious. ‘That’s ridiculous! Do you have any evidence to support your assumption, or have you found no contradictions?’
Getting the hang of your profession now, are we? Hammond merely shook his head condescendingly. ‘You’re so green, Prosecutor. Look at the boy’s face.’
The boy in question was whiter than the judge’s beard, and had taken to clutching his arms so tightly that Hammond was sure there would be deep marks from his nails.
‘The witness is being forced to relive a traumatic event!’
‘Perhaps,’ Hammond was not truly conceding the point - and he let be known through his disbelieving tone. ‘Mr. Edgeworth, what are you hiding? Tell us what you really remember!’
‘I-...’
‘OBJECTION!’ The prosecution was now glaring at Hammond. ‘Your Honour, the defence is badgering the witness!’
The judge banged his gavel. ‘Objection sustained. The defence will discontinue this line of questioning... unless you have evidence to prove your point?’
Hammond clenched his fists. I ought to wipe that smug look from your face, rookie. ‘No further questions, Your Honour.’
‘In that case, the witness may step down from the stand.’ Miles did so, and was led by a court bailiff back to the lobby. ‘Does the prosecution have any more witnesses?’
‘Yes, Your Honour. The prosecution would like to call the defendant, Yanni Yogi, to the stand.’
‘Very well.’
Yogi was brought forwards. He looked uncomfortable, and Hammond was sure that he could detect a hint of regret in his eyes. Hammond had never lost a case in his career, but he had a feeling that Yogi was just starting to catch on to his plan.
‘Mr. Yogi,’ the prosecutor said. ‘The court would like to hear your version of the events.’
‘Yes sir,’ Yogi started. ‘I was in the elevator with Mr. Edgeworth and his son. There was an earthquake, and we were trapped there for about five hours. The air was getting thick - we were running out of oxygen and... I panicked.’
‘Hold it! What did you do?’
Yogi looked down at his hands. ‘I... I attacked him - Gregory Edgeworth, that is. I was scared for my life!’
Damn you, Yogi. You’ve made this case a lot harder to win. Hammond didn’t let his frustration show. ‘Can you elaborate? How exactly did you ‘attack’ the victim?’
‘I pulled my gun out, but he knocked it out of my hand, so I tried choking him instead.’
You’re starting to piss me off, Yogi. ‘Did you intend to murder Mr. Edgeworth?’
‘N-no, sir! Mr. Edgeworth was a good man, if I was thinking straight, I wouldn’t have attacked him!’
Hammond pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Very well... what happened next?’
‘Well, after Mr. Edgeworth kicked the gun away, it wasn’t that long until we both started to lose consciousness. The only thing I remember was something hitting my back.’
‘What was it that hit you? Tell the court!’ This is it! This is what will win me this case!
Yogi was chewing his bottom lip. ‘I’m not sure. It felt heavy, so it must have been the gun.’
‘I agree.’ Hammond smirked. This was leading him back to Miles Edgeworth’s fingerprints. ‘The only person who could have thrown it was the boy... continue, Mr. Yogi.’
‘There’s something else! Just before I lost consciousness, I heard a gunshot.’
‘And how long after the gun hit you was this?’
‘Almost immediately, sir.’
Hammond chuckled. He crossed his arms and allowed his posture to relax. ‘Your Honour? I believe that the defendant’s testimony proves his innocence.’
The judge frowned and observed Hammond over his glasses. ‘How so?’
‘Shall we look at what we can infer from the testimony? The boy, who was nine years old at the time, was trapped in the elevator with the victim and the defendant. The two men began to fight. Naturally, the boy would be scared for his father’s life! When the victim knocked the gun out of Mr. Yogi’s hand, the boy picked it up by the barrel - which explains how his fingerprints ended up there. He must have thrown it at Mr. Yogi in an attempt to stop the fight!’
‘Yes,’ the prosecutor interjected. ‘But how does that prove Mr. Yogi’s innocence?’
Hammond laughed, smirking at the rookie. ‘When the young Mr. Edgeworth threw the gun, it hit Mr. Yogi in the back. It was then that my client heard the gunshot. As Mr. Edgeworth died from a gunshot wound, it can be deduced that the murder weapon discharged when it hit Mr. Yogi.’
‘Are you saying that the victim’s son is the murderer?’ the prosecutor sounded horrified by the very idea.
Hammond nodded.
‘OBJECTION! Look at the crime scene photo! There was a bullet hole in the window of the elevator. Moreover, the gun was fired twice! When the gun discharged, the bullet went through the window!’
‘I disagree,’ Hammond said flatly. ‘It is not entirely implausible to assume that when the pistol hit the floor after being thrown that the gun discharged a second time.’
‘OBJECTION! What proof do you have of that?’
‘OBJECTION! What proof do you have that it didn’t happen? If you look at this piece of evidence,’ he held up a bag carrying the shirt Yogi wore on the day of the incident, ‘You’ll see that forensics did not find any traces of gun powder on either of the sleeves. However, they did find traces on the back of the uniform-.’
‘OBJECTION! Your Honour! The defence withheld evidence from the court!’
‘OBJECTION! I could not prove the shirt’s relevance until after the defendant told us that the gun hit him in the back.’
The prosecutor slammed his fists on the bench. ‘NO! This can’t be true!’
The judge shook his head. ‘Perhaps we should hear from the witness a second time. Bailiff! Bring in the witness!’
When Miles stood at the stand a second time, his face was drawn, and his entire body was shaking. He looked up at the judge with hollow and sunken eyes. His mouth was open and trembling as though he wanted to speak, but couldn’t. Hammond was disinterested, however. He directed a smirk towards the prosecution. ‘Are you still going to defend the boy? My client is innocent - you know that.’
The prosecution shook his head. ‘The witness has yet to make a statement. Mr. Edgeworth, I trust you understand the implications of what the defence has said?’
The boy’s head lifted slowly, lingering only for a moment before dropping again, as he shrunk into himself.
‘What do you have to say, Mr. Edgeworth?’ Hammond pressed.
‘I don’t remember what happened...’ the boy spoke just above a murmur.
‘Come now, Mr. Edgeworth,’ Hammond said. ‘We know that you know what really happened in that elevator.’
‘No...’
‘Your father and the defendant were fighting, and you were scared. You picked up the gun and threw it at my client, didn’t you?’
‘No! I- I didn’t!
‘You threw the gun! Your heard the gunshot - the moment the victim died! Tell the truth! Don’t let an innocent man go to jail!’
‘Stop it! I didn’t do it!’
‘Miles Edgeworth! You threw the gun that killed your father! You killed him!’
‘NNNGHHOOOOH!’ the boy screamed, fingernails digging into his scalp.
The courtroom was silent. The judge and prosecution watched Miles with pity - looks that made Hammond sick to his stomach. You’re going to pity a murderer? Don’t make me laugh, you fools!
Finally, after a long moment, Miles started to speak. ‘I-.’
‘OBJECTION!’
Hammond looked around. The shout didn’t come from the prosecutor, nor did it come from the judge. But where...? No. He wouldn’t...!
Yogi had stood from the defendant’s box, face full of fury directed at his attorney. ‘This is wrong! He’s just a boy! How can you condemn him?’
‘Mr. Yogi-!’
‘No. I confess. It was me.’
The judge straightened. Hammond watched in horror as the case slipped through his fingertips. ‘You confess?’
Yogi - the bastard - nodded. ‘Yes. I lied in my testimony. The gunshot I heard - that was the one that caused the hole in the window. When the boy fell unconscious, I took that as my moment to kill his father.’ His stare hardened, still fixed upon Hammond. ‘I won’t let you convict a child of murder.’
‘Mr. Yogi...’ Miles’s whisper was unheard over the shouts of the audience in the gallery. The courtroom erupted into chaos at the defendant’s confession - the judge banged his gavel in a feeble attempt to restore order.
And Hammond watched as though from afar. I lost... I can’t believe I lost.