[Fic] Turnabout Hero - Chapter 2
Title: Turnabout Hero
Characters (for this part): Phoenix Wright, Maya Fey, Canada, Miles Edgeworth, America
Rating/Warnings: PG, murder. Crossover with the Ace Attorney series.
Summary: When Alfred F. Jones is accused and tried for murder, Phoenix Wright is brought in to defend him. Solving a murder with this strange bunch will not be easy, and with secrets around every corner and the entire country against him, can Phoenix prove him innocent?
A/N: This is a deanon from the kink meme. Also, there is no reason for these updates to take longer than a week, and I'm sorry about that. Feel free to bug me if it ever does take longer than a week again.
March 15, 5:00 PM. Detention Center.
Matthew, as it turned out, knew almost everybody at both airports, and they trusted him enough to let us all bypass the security measures so we could get to the capitol as quickly as possible. As soon as we landed he insisted that we go meet his brother right away.
“So we don’t waste time. If you do take the case, then you’ll need time to prepare your defense and if you don’t, well, I’ll need to arrange your flight home. We can go to the hotel right after.”
“But I’m tired,” Maya complained, “I have lag jet.”
“I think you mean jet lag, and you can go on ahead to the hotel and rest if you want. I can meet him by myself.”
“They might not let you in,” Matthew said, “They’ve increased security at the Detention Center since the media picked up the story. Here I’ll write you a note.”
Note From Matthew
Quick note from Matthew to get me in to see Alfred.
“Thanks,” I put the note in my pocket for safe keeping.
“I wrote the address of the hotel for you too, so just meet us there when you’re done.”
They left me to face Alfred Jones alone, and getting at him was as hard as Matt had predicted. The place was crawling with press.
“Are you the new defense lawyer?” A woman with a microphone asked me.
“Um, I guess…”
That turned out to be the wrong answer. They swarmed.
“How do you sleep at night knowing you’re letting yet another monster haunt the already perilous streets?”
“Is it true that Mr. Jones doesn’t have a lawyer yet because he eats potential prospects if they refuse to sell him their souls?”
“How much are Jones’s people paying you to defend him and is it enough to ease your guilty and blood stained conscious?”
“Are the rumors about mafia involvement true?”
“Did Mr. Jones ever return those kidnapped orphans and puppies?”
“Can you tell us why the government is trying to suppress this story?”
“What planet is Mr. Jones actually from?”
“Enough! No more questions!” A familiar voice shouted. Someone grabbed my shoulder and dragged me away from the media mob, but that only succeeded at transferring their questions to him instead.
“Mr. Edgeworth, is it true that the President asked you personally to step into this case when all the other prosecutors ran away scared?”
“Mr. Edgeworth, has Mr. Jones or his men made any threat to your life as of yet?”
“Mr. Edgeworth, has Mr. Jones really been eating all of the other prosecutors’ livers with some fava beans and a nice Chianti?”
“Mr. Edgeworth?”
“Mr. Edgeworth?”
Edgeworth slammed the door to the detention center behind us after he pulled me through it.
“This is a high profile case, Wright, the kind they eat up. You can’t let your guard down for a second or answer any of their questions if you can. It would be troublesome if this case got any more publicity than it already has,” he blinked, “What are you doing here anyway?”
“Alfred’s brother asked me to defend him. What are you doing here?”
“Apparently not only is the defendant lacking a defense attorney, they have yet to bring in a prosecutor. Every eligible prosecutor in the city and the states of Virginia and Maryland refuse to take this case, so they called me in.”
“…He’s not actually-”
“No, he isn’t eating anyone. They all have some convoluted notion that he’s actually innocent and refuse to accept the case. Preposterous. I’ve seen the case file, Wright; the boy is guilty.”
“You say that about everyone.”
“The police already have a mountain of evidence against him. The murder weapon was his gun, found with him at the crime scene. There’s a witness as well. Look at the autopsy report.”
Ben Smith
Age: 62
Gender: Male
Victim. Congressman from New Jersey. Was working on some anti-mob legislation before his death.
Cause of death: One bullet wound to the heart. Bullet recovered matches the gun found at the scene.
Time of death: Between 9-10 PM on March 10.
“Allegedly Jones works for the government as well, but no one knows what his actual job is.”
“Why are you even at the Detention Center? You usually don’t involve yourself with the defendant.”
“The local Prosecutor’s Office refuses to let me on the case until I meet with Jones for some reason.”
“So you haven’t met him yet?”
“No, have you?”
“No, I’m not even officially on the case yet.”
“I suppose that makes two of us then.”
We were able to get in to see Alfred Jones easy enough despite it being past visiting hours. They were expecting Edgeworth and my note from Matthew was all I needed to convince them of who I was; I didn’t even need to show them my badge. We didn’t have to wait very long before they let us see him.
Alfred looked almost exactly like his brother, except his hair was shorter and had one sticking out above his forehead where his brother’s just curled. His glasses were also a bit different, squarer where Matthew’s were round; he gave off a far more confidant aura, and, despite his circumstances, was still smiling.
Alfred F. Jones
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Defendant. Works for the American Government. Has a bit of a hero complex.
“Are you the new lawyers?” he asked with a laugh, “I know they’re having trouble finding a prosecutor, but did they really need to send two?”
“I’m the prosecutor. He’s your new defense,” Edgeworth said, as if he was insulted that I would even be mistaken for his colleague.
“I told them I don’t want a defense lawyer.”
“Do you think you can actually provide a satisfactory defense for yourself then?”
“It’s not that. It’s just, well, I don’t have the money to pay for a lawyer right now.”
“That’s why the state can-”
“Yeah, but that’s the taxpayer’s money! I don’t want them to use that for me either! We’re in the middle of a recession you know!”
I was stunned. Edgeworth must have been too. I don’t think he’d ever heard that one before.
“Mr. Jones, your brother offered to pay me already, so-”
“Well, I don’t want Matt to pay for my lawyer either. It’s not that I don’t appreciate your help, I really do. It’s just, the money for my lawyer could go to so many other things. Why waste it on me?”
(So that’s what Matt meant by being and idiotic idealist…I’m not that bad am I?)
“Mr. Jones, are you even aware of the situation you’re in right now?”
“I’ve been falsely accused of murdering a Congressman. It wasn’t me though and I can prove it!”
“Really?” Edgeworth was skeptical. “Do tell.”
“The last words he said to me were, ‘It’s a trap.’ That means I’m being framed!”
“So you admit to being there when he died?” Edgeworth tapped his fingers on his arm.
“Well, yeah, but-”
“And no one else was around to hear this ‘final words,’ correct?”
“Yes, but-”
“So how do I know you aren’t lying?”
“Because I’m not.” There was something in his eyes that made me believe that that was the truth, and I’m sure Edgeworth saw it too, but being Edgeworth, he probably didn’t believe it.
“What about the gun? The murder weapon is your gun, correct?”
“Yes, but I’m not the one that shot it. Someone stole it from me.”
“And you didn’t notice?”
“Well, I have a lot of guns. And a tank.”
(What’s he doing with a tank!? Scratch that, I don’t want to know…)
“The police didn’t find anything on you when they brought you in…”
“Yeah, I only had one on me that day because I was, doing something.”
“It wouldn’t happen to have been the murder weapon, would it?”
“How did you know that?”
(For some reason I feel like the mountain of evidence collapsed on me…and he’s not officially my client yet.)
“Oh, I get it, you still think I did it,” this only seemed to amuse him, as he grinned even wider. “Well I hate to disappoint, but as I told you, that gun was stolen and it wasn’t in my possession when the murder took place.”
“And you have something other than your word to prove this I assume?”
“Of course I, wait, no. My word is all I got.”
“Figures.”
“Ah!” he snapped his fingers, “Arthur! Just ask Arthur. He’d know.”
(Arthur?)
“Arthur?”
“Arthur Kirkland. He was with me for most of the day.”
“Was he with you when the murder took place?”
“Um, no.”
“Then he’s not very helpful is he? Mr. Jones, you have yet to even slightly convince me that you are anything other than a cold blooded murderer.”
“Well, you’re the prosecutor. You’re not supposed to believe me. But still,” he looked through the glass, straight into Edgeworth’s eyes, “I didn’t kill him. I couldn’t kill him. There’s no way I would ever kill one of my own Congressmen.”
And I believed him. There was just something about him that, even with that mountain of evidence stacked against him and the media writing him off as some kind of demon, you couldn’t help but believe him. I couldn’t explain it, but right then, I knew I had to make sure he got off.
“Mr. Jones,” I said, “I’m going to defend you.”
He and Edgeworth looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “I’m not going to pay you.”
“I know. I’ll do it pro bono.”
“That’s pretty kinky sounding. You know the prosecutor’s here, right? That’s really unprofessional.”
(What?)
“That means he’ll do it for free.”
(Is Edgeworth chuckling?)
“Oh, that makes more sense. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, you know.”
“I know, but I want to. I believe you’re innocent and I want to make sure you walk free.”
Alfred’s grin grew wider, if that was possible, as he laughed, “Awesome! Thank you so much!”
“This is all well and good, because I’m afraid I believe you to be innocent as well.” The smile vanished from Alfred’s face for the first time all meeting.
“Really? You too?”
“My apologies, but I’m afraid I cannot take your case.”
“What?!” I asked, “Sure you can. You can just, you know, let me win.”
“He can’t! The process won’t work!”
“I would be making a complete mockery of the entire justice system if I prosecuted a man I thought was innocent. Surely even you are aware of that, Wright?”
(Still would make my job easier though…)
“I, doubt you’ll be able to find a prosecutor in America willing to prosecute me,” he sighed, “At this rate I’ll be in here forever.”
“We’ll see about that. If I can’t prosecute you, then I’ll make it my job to find someone who can.”
The guards came in to take Alfred back to his cell shortly after, but I promised him I’d be back tomorrow to talk to him some more.
The mob of reporters was gone by the time we made it outside again, which was good, because I really didn’t need the added pressure after officially taking this case.
“Don’t you think it’s strange?” Edgeworth asked, breaking me out of my thoughts.
“Huh?”
“His last comment, about no one in America wanting to prosecute him. Don’t you think it’s strange?”
“I, guess?”
He sighed, “The media’s playing him out to be some heartless fiend. Alfred Jones is probably the most hated man in America right now, so why won’t any prosecutor think he’s guilty?”
“Well, you’ve met him.”
“Exactly. Something about him just, makes me believe him. I’m not sure. In about five minutes I won’t know what I was thinking.”
“So you do think he’s guilty?”
“Yes, no, maybe. I know he is, all the evidence points to it, but, I feel like he isn’t.”
“I didn’t know you could feel…”
“Quiet you! Anyway, I want to look into this some more.”
(Only you would want to look into your emotions…wait-) “But I figured, since you feel he’s innocent and all you could possibly help me.”
“You can do your own job Wright.” He turned and left, shouting, “If he’s really innocent, then you should have no problems with this case,” over his shoulder.
(In theory…now where was that hotel?)
Characters (for this part): Phoenix Wright, Maya Fey, Canada, Miles Edgeworth, America
Rating/Warnings: PG, murder. Crossover with the Ace Attorney series.
Summary: When Alfred F. Jones is accused and tried for murder, Phoenix Wright is brought in to defend him. Solving a murder with this strange bunch will not be easy, and with secrets around every corner and the entire country against him, can Phoenix prove him innocent?
A/N: This is a deanon from the kink meme. Also, there is no reason for these updates to take longer than a week, and I'm sorry about that. Feel free to bug me if it ever does take longer than a week again.
March 15, 5:00 PM. Detention Center.
Matthew, as it turned out, knew almost everybody at both airports, and they trusted him enough to let us all bypass the security measures so we could get to the capitol as quickly as possible. As soon as we landed he insisted that we go meet his brother right away.
“So we don’t waste time. If you do take the case, then you’ll need time to prepare your defense and if you don’t, well, I’ll need to arrange your flight home. We can go to the hotel right after.”
“But I’m tired,” Maya complained, “I have lag jet.”
“I think you mean jet lag, and you can go on ahead to the hotel and rest if you want. I can meet him by myself.”
“They might not let you in,” Matthew said, “They’ve increased security at the Detention Center since the media picked up the story. Here I’ll write you a note.”
Note From Matthew
Quick note from Matthew to get me in to see Alfred.
“Thanks,” I put the note in my pocket for safe keeping.
“I wrote the address of the hotel for you too, so just meet us there when you’re done.”
They left me to face Alfred Jones alone, and getting at him was as hard as Matt had predicted. The place was crawling with press.
“Are you the new defense lawyer?” A woman with a microphone asked me.
“Um, I guess…”
That turned out to be the wrong answer. They swarmed.
“How do you sleep at night knowing you’re letting yet another monster haunt the already perilous streets?”
“Is it true that Mr. Jones doesn’t have a lawyer yet because he eats potential prospects if they refuse to sell him their souls?”
“How much are Jones’s people paying you to defend him and is it enough to ease your guilty and blood stained conscious?”
“Are the rumors about mafia involvement true?”
“Did Mr. Jones ever return those kidnapped orphans and puppies?”
“Can you tell us why the government is trying to suppress this story?”
“What planet is Mr. Jones actually from?”
“Enough! No more questions!” A familiar voice shouted. Someone grabbed my shoulder and dragged me away from the media mob, but that only succeeded at transferring their questions to him instead.
“Mr. Edgeworth, is it true that the President asked you personally to step into this case when all the other prosecutors ran away scared?”
“Mr. Edgeworth, has Mr. Jones or his men made any threat to your life as of yet?”
“Mr. Edgeworth, has Mr. Jones really been eating all of the other prosecutors’ livers with some fava beans and a nice Chianti?”
“Mr. Edgeworth?”
“Mr. Edgeworth?”
Edgeworth slammed the door to the detention center behind us after he pulled me through it.
“This is a high profile case, Wright, the kind they eat up. You can’t let your guard down for a second or answer any of their questions if you can. It would be troublesome if this case got any more publicity than it already has,” he blinked, “What are you doing here anyway?”
“Alfred’s brother asked me to defend him. What are you doing here?”
“Apparently not only is the defendant lacking a defense attorney, they have yet to bring in a prosecutor. Every eligible prosecutor in the city and the states of Virginia and Maryland refuse to take this case, so they called me in.”
“…He’s not actually-”
“No, he isn’t eating anyone. They all have some convoluted notion that he’s actually innocent and refuse to accept the case. Preposterous. I’ve seen the case file, Wright; the boy is guilty.”
“You say that about everyone.”
“The police already have a mountain of evidence against him. The murder weapon was his gun, found with him at the crime scene. There’s a witness as well. Look at the autopsy report.”
Ben Smith
Age: 62
Gender: Male
Victim. Congressman from New Jersey. Was working on some anti-mob legislation before his death.
Cause of death: One bullet wound to the heart. Bullet recovered matches the gun found at the scene.
Time of death: Between 9-10 PM on March 10.
“Allegedly Jones works for the government as well, but no one knows what his actual job is.”
“Why are you even at the Detention Center? You usually don’t involve yourself with the defendant.”
“The local Prosecutor’s Office refuses to let me on the case until I meet with Jones for some reason.”
“So you haven’t met him yet?”
“No, have you?”
“No, I’m not even officially on the case yet.”
“I suppose that makes two of us then.”
We were able to get in to see Alfred Jones easy enough despite it being past visiting hours. They were expecting Edgeworth and my note from Matthew was all I needed to convince them of who I was; I didn’t even need to show them my badge. We didn’t have to wait very long before they let us see him.
Alfred looked almost exactly like his brother, except his hair was shorter and had one sticking out above his forehead where his brother’s just curled. His glasses were also a bit different, squarer where Matthew’s were round; he gave off a far more confidant aura, and, despite his circumstances, was still smiling.
Alfred F. Jones
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Defendant. Works for the American Government. Has a bit of a hero complex.
“Are you the new lawyers?” he asked with a laugh, “I know they’re having trouble finding a prosecutor, but did they really need to send two?”
“I’m the prosecutor. He’s your new defense,” Edgeworth said, as if he was insulted that I would even be mistaken for his colleague.
“I told them I don’t want a defense lawyer.”
“Do you think you can actually provide a satisfactory defense for yourself then?”
“It’s not that. It’s just, well, I don’t have the money to pay for a lawyer right now.”
“That’s why the state can-”
“Yeah, but that’s the taxpayer’s money! I don’t want them to use that for me either! We’re in the middle of a recession you know!”
I was stunned. Edgeworth must have been too. I don’t think he’d ever heard that one before.
“Mr. Jones, your brother offered to pay me already, so-”
“Well, I don’t want Matt to pay for my lawyer either. It’s not that I don’t appreciate your help, I really do. It’s just, the money for my lawyer could go to so many other things. Why waste it on me?”
(So that’s what Matt meant by being and idiotic idealist…I’m not that bad am I?)
“Mr. Jones, are you even aware of the situation you’re in right now?”
“I’ve been falsely accused of murdering a Congressman. It wasn’t me though and I can prove it!”
“Really?” Edgeworth was skeptical. “Do tell.”
“The last words he said to me were, ‘It’s a trap.’ That means I’m being framed!”
“So you admit to being there when he died?” Edgeworth tapped his fingers on his arm.
“Well, yeah, but-”
“And no one else was around to hear this ‘final words,’ correct?”
“Yes, but-”
“So how do I know you aren’t lying?”
“Because I’m not.” There was something in his eyes that made me believe that that was the truth, and I’m sure Edgeworth saw it too, but being Edgeworth, he probably didn’t believe it.
“What about the gun? The murder weapon is your gun, correct?”
“Yes, but I’m not the one that shot it. Someone stole it from me.”
“And you didn’t notice?”
“Well, I have a lot of guns. And a tank.”
(What’s he doing with a tank!? Scratch that, I don’t want to know…)
“The police didn’t find anything on you when they brought you in…”
“Yeah, I only had one on me that day because I was, doing something.”
“It wouldn’t happen to have been the murder weapon, would it?”
“How did you know that?”
(For some reason I feel like the mountain of evidence collapsed on me…and he’s not officially my client yet.)
“Oh, I get it, you still think I did it,” this only seemed to amuse him, as he grinned even wider. “Well I hate to disappoint, but as I told you, that gun was stolen and it wasn’t in my possession when the murder took place.”
“And you have something other than your word to prove this I assume?”
“Of course I, wait, no. My word is all I got.”
“Figures.”
“Ah!” he snapped his fingers, “Arthur! Just ask Arthur. He’d know.”
(Arthur?)
“Arthur?”
“Arthur Kirkland. He was with me for most of the day.”
“Was he with you when the murder took place?”
“Um, no.”
“Then he’s not very helpful is he? Mr. Jones, you have yet to even slightly convince me that you are anything other than a cold blooded murderer.”
“Well, you’re the prosecutor. You’re not supposed to believe me. But still,” he looked through the glass, straight into Edgeworth’s eyes, “I didn’t kill him. I couldn’t kill him. There’s no way I would ever kill one of my own Congressmen.”
And I believed him. There was just something about him that, even with that mountain of evidence stacked against him and the media writing him off as some kind of demon, you couldn’t help but believe him. I couldn’t explain it, but right then, I knew I had to make sure he got off.
“Mr. Jones,” I said, “I’m going to defend you.”
He and Edgeworth looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “I’m not going to pay you.”
“I know. I’ll do it pro bono.”
“That’s pretty kinky sounding. You know the prosecutor’s here, right? That’s really unprofessional.”
(What?)
“That means he’ll do it for free.”
(Is Edgeworth chuckling?)
“Oh, that makes more sense. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, you know.”
“I know, but I want to. I believe you’re innocent and I want to make sure you walk free.”
Alfred’s grin grew wider, if that was possible, as he laughed, “Awesome! Thank you so much!”
“This is all well and good, because I’m afraid I believe you to be innocent as well.” The smile vanished from Alfred’s face for the first time all meeting.
“Really? You too?”
“My apologies, but I’m afraid I cannot take your case.”
“What?!” I asked, “Sure you can. You can just, you know, let me win.”
“He can’t! The process won’t work!”
“I would be making a complete mockery of the entire justice system if I prosecuted a man I thought was innocent. Surely even you are aware of that, Wright?”
(Still would make my job easier though…)
“I, doubt you’ll be able to find a prosecutor in America willing to prosecute me,” he sighed, “At this rate I’ll be in here forever.”
“We’ll see about that. If I can’t prosecute you, then I’ll make it my job to find someone who can.”
The guards came in to take Alfred back to his cell shortly after, but I promised him I’d be back tomorrow to talk to him some more.
The mob of reporters was gone by the time we made it outside again, which was good, because I really didn’t need the added pressure after officially taking this case.
“Don’t you think it’s strange?” Edgeworth asked, breaking me out of my thoughts.
“Huh?”
“His last comment, about no one in America wanting to prosecute him. Don’t you think it’s strange?”
“I, guess?”
He sighed, “The media’s playing him out to be some heartless fiend. Alfred Jones is probably the most hated man in America right now, so why won’t any prosecutor think he’s guilty?”
“Well, you’ve met him.”
“Exactly. Something about him just, makes me believe him. I’m not sure. In about five minutes I won’t know what I was thinking.”
“So you do think he’s guilty?”
“Yes, no, maybe. I know he is, all the evidence points to it, but, I feel like he isn’t.”
“I didn’t know you could feel…”
“Quiet you! Anyway, I want to look into this some more.”
(Only you would want to look into your emotions…wait-) “But I figured, since you feel he’s innocent and all you could possibly help me.”
“You can do your own job Wright.” He turned and left, shouting, “If he’s really innocent, then you should have no problems with this case,” over his shoulder.
(In theory…now where was that hotel?)