Disclaimer: Contrary to popular belief, I actually do own everything in this story… except the city of Boston, Massachusetts however. Ace Attorney is the inspiration, format, and overall influence behind the story, but the characters are MINE! ALL MINE! PLACES TOO! Except Boston, of course. I think I may have mentioned that.
Every morning at 7:30 am, Chancellor Moore would wake from his bed, drag himself across his apartment to the bathroom, look in the mirror, and instantly remember everything he had forgotten to prepare for the night before. This phenomenon, the doctor who analyzed him said, was 'unknown to psychoanalytic science and merited further research insofar as to find what cerebral alteration produced such a reflex.'
"You don't have a clue, and you want to use me as a guinea pig for research?" Chancellor rephrased.
The psychologist winced at the bluntness of the statement and admitted, "well, yes, that's about right."
Chancellor bluntly, yet politely, declined. He already knew why looking into the mirror caused him to remember things. It was the shock of seeing, day after day, that he had a woman's face. And a darn beautiful one at that.
He'd had it as long as he could remember; which meant that he'd had a woman's face for at least ten years of his life. After waking up from a coma screaming 'OBJECTION!' at the top of his lungs (scaring the nurse attending to him half to death) the doctor came in and explained that, upon Chancellor's arrival to the hospital one year previously, the damage to his face had been extremely severe, and the only chance that Chance had had of living was to undergo emergency facial reconstruction surgery. Unfortunately, the only photo the surgeon had had to use for the surgery was a picture of a wallet model that, miraculously, had been the only thing that had survived inside Chancellor's wallet. The doctor said he was very sorry.
As to why having a girl's face reminded him of anything, Chancellor was clueless. He chalked it up to the idea that his face, being the chief woman in his life, somehow subconsciously nagged him every time it saw him. He didn't like being nagged, which was why he only looked into a mirror when he absolutely had to. Consequently, no one had ever called him vain.
Nevertheless, the nagging did save his skin quite often, and Chancellor knew that he'd be lost without his face to keep him in line. Today, for instance, she reminded him of something that, quite literally, knocked him off his feet. Your first trial is in half an hour, Chancy! He didn't bother wondering why she always called him Chancy; he had more important things to worry about.
He gasped, picked himself up off the floor, and ran frantically around his apartment. He grabbed papers, files, and breakfast, and hurriedly stuffed them into his briefcase. He stopped, thought for a moment, and then went into the kitchen, grabbed a spoon, and quickly shoveled the oatmeal out of his briefcase and into his mouth. He ran back to the mirror, quickly brushed his teeth, ran a hand through his shoulder-length snow white hair to give it a smexy, unkempt look, and slapped on a yellow dress shirt with torn off sleeves and black suit pants, topping the whole ensemble with a blue sweater jacket, which he left unzipped. He surveyed himself for a moment with his hazel eyes. You look terrible said his face. "I look damn good for only five minutes worth of prep time," he said aloud. He ran back to the kitchen, reached into the fridge, and pulled out his daily chocolate-covered strawberry. He wanted to take his usual ten minutes to savor it, but there was no time. He frowned and swallowed it down whole.
He rushed out the door. As he ran out into his apartment complex's hallway, he caught a glimpse of himself in the doorknob, and gasped again. He stuck his hand in the closing door and swore loudly when it smashed his fingers, but did not close. He rushed back inside the apartment and stopped to catch his breath for the first time. Slowly, he lifted a large tire chain hanging on his bedpost and draped it over his neck. There was no way in hell he was leaving without that.
-District Courthouse, Defendant's Lobby 2, 4/18, 8:03 am.
Chancellor burst through the double doors of the defendant's lobby, and was greeted by a stern look from a man with neatly combed, grey hair and wrinkles that framed his face in a state of perpetual worry. Despite these features, the rest of his body suggested he was much younger then his forty-nine years; young enough to be Chancellor's brother, even.
"Mr. Thenue!" Chancellor managed through short, gasping breaths, "I'm sorry I'm late, I overslept, I poured oatmeal in my briefcase… I didn't even take time to enjoy my strawberry!" Chancellor gestured dramatically. The last part was, of course, the most important detail, and the one that he thought would inspire the most pity.
"You shouldn't apologize to me" the man said solemnly "you should apologize to your client."
"Oh, alright then…" Chancellor began "I'll just…"
"Of course you should apologize to me!" Thenue snapped, causing the young attorney to jump back in fright, "You've put the entire reputation of Thenue and Noble law offices on the line with your lackadaisical approach to life and your rash irresponsibility! Why if this wasn't your first trial, you'd be out on the street like this!" He snapped his fingers dramatically.
"Yes sir, I'm sorry sir, I…"
"I'm not finished!" Thenue continued, "I had to go into that courtroom and request a half hour extension just to cover up for your folly! Me! Morage Thenue! In the twenty-five years I've worked in law, I've never had to ask for an extension for anyone, especially when the trial hasn't even started!"
"And the office's track record is all the worse because of it" Chancellor muttered under his breath.
"Don't think that just because I'm late-middle-aged I can't hear your snide remarks!" Morage yelled.
"Look, I'm sorry, ok?" Chancellor shouted defensively. "Yelling at me won't solve anything, it might even make me do worse!"
Morage Thenue stiffened up, outraged by this insubordinate retaliation. "IF YOU LOSE TODAY, YOU'RE FIRED!" he bellowed so that those outside the courthouse, nay, outside the boundaries of the city, could here. He stormed out of the lobby, slamming the doors behind him. Quite hard, actually, seeing as they each weighed roughly two hundred pounds.
Chancellor placed his head in his hand and sighed, shaking visibly. I really need to watch what I say under pressure he thought it's going to get me in trouble one of these days… like today… and yesterday… and the day before that.
"It's nice to see my lawyers have such a healthy relationship" came a voice from the other side of the room.
The young defense attorney whipped around quickly, nearly having a heart attack at the familiar sounding voice. "You…" he stuttered, "You saw all of that?"
The speaker, an old, yet healthy looking man with brown, parted hair that happened to be Chancellor's client, laughed. "Don't get your intestines tied in a knot" he soothed "I believe in you, Chance."
Chancellor laughed nervously, blushing slightly. "You know… you're supposed to be the one worrying, and I'm supposed to be the one that comforts you, Dad."
Chancellor's client, Thompson Moore, was an ace physician at St. Maladie General Hospital who specialized in nephrology. Although he was unmarried and had never considered having a family, he found himself, for some reason or another, adopting Chance when it was found that Chancellor's past had been all but erased. "Why should I be worried?" he laughed, patting his son on the back, "after all, I'm innocent!"
"Yeah…" Chancellor agreed, "I guess you're right!" If only it looked that way… He smiled, trying to convince his father that everything would be ok. But even he didn't believe that entirely.
-District Courthouse, Courtroom 12, 8:30 am.
"All rise!" came the Bailiff's cry. The defense attorney, prosecutor, defendant, witnesses, and people who didn't really have to be there but had nothing better to do with their lives, quickly stood. The judge, a young, blonde man in his late twenties, entered the courtroom, fiddling with his robes with one hand and impersonating Queen Elizabeth's wave with the other. The courtroom chuckled slightly. The bailiff cringed. "The honorable, if not somewhat unconventional, Judge Scotty presiding."
Judge Scotty, despite his previous attempt at humor, ran strictly by the book. "You may be seated," he said in a stern voice. The courtroom was seated (ooh boy, isn't that redundant). "Very well then, Case Number 4276-C, Moore vs. the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, will now come to order." He motioned to the young lady standing at the prosecutor's bench. "The prosecution will now make its opening statement."
Prosecutor Krasivaya (pronounced Kra-see-vai-ya) smirked slightly. Born and raised in Volgograd, Russia, she had become a prosecutor at age eighteen, and had spent the last seven years of her life extending her perfect win record in Boston. With long, flowing black hair, skin as pale as wintry cream, and a figure that had placed her on many men's 'Most Wanted' lists, she had won a good majority of her cases entirely by 'distraction'. The fact that she was unrelenting, spontaneous, and had incredible foresight didn't help either.
"Guilty." She spoke aloud. "When the dust settles, when the muddy waters stirred by the attorney over there clear, when every piece of evidence and every fragment of testimony has been picked apart like a badly stuffed carnival toy in the mouth of a dog … that will be the verdict that Mr. Moore receives. It is the only conclusion that can be drawn."
Judge Scotty nodded politely. "Thank you Ms. Krasivaya" he said. "Ms. Moore, can you top that?"
Chancellor's tightened his fist and took a deep breath. He hated it when people mistook him for a woman. Oh c'mon! Scotty doesn't know I'm a man? You have paperwork, you're honor!
"Get on with it already" ordered Krasivaya, playing with her hair and clearly annoyed. "This is a trial, not a Girl Scout meeting, it's not going to be all hugs and cookies."
Something inside Chancellor snapped. "First of all" he began, his deep and clearly masculine voice causing Scotty and Krasivaya to jump, "I happen to like Girl Scout cookies, and I think our legal system would be one heck of a lot better if it was built on them instead of the law. Secondly, while I'm afraid I didn't spend all of last night creating a…poetic witness statement…"
BOЗPAЖEHИE! (This is Russian for 'Objection'. It is pronounced 'Voz-ra-zhen-yeh')
"Your honor!" demanded Krasivaya "The defense should refrain from attacks on the prosecution!"
"It's only an attack on you if what he said is actually true, Ms. Krasivaya" Judge Scotty noted, eying Krasivaya with amusement.
The prosecutor shifted uncomfortably, the muttered, "defense will continue its opening statement."
Chancellor continued; his confidence boosted slightly. "Now, I may not have as eloquent a speech as the pretty prosecutor over there, but there is one thing I do have." He struck his 'objection' pose, with his arm fully outstretched, his pointer and middle finger both pointing at Krasivaya, and his thumb curled under those fingers slightly. He took a deep breath. "The truth." He glared at Krasivaya for a moment with a feigned look of pure hatred. Then he smiled and winked at her. Krasivaya opened her mouth to object, but Chancellor continued to speak. "The defense pleads 'Not Guilty' your honor, and we seek to prove this plea in its totality."
The judge nodded curtly. "Very well then. At this time, we will call the first witness."
Chancellor had won the toss backstage, so he was the one who got to call the first witness.
"The defense calls Mr. Thompson Moore to the stand" he said.
Thompson Moore took the stand. He drummed his fingers impatiently, as if waiting to be proven innocent.
"Mr. Moore" prompted Chancellor. "Would you kindly recount what happened that night? Perhaps we can end this trial early, and move on to more interesting things…" he winked at Krasivaya again. She looked at him with disgust, but he didn't mind. He had only done it to screw with her (as in get a reaction from!) anyway.
"Alright then, Chance" nodded Thompson. "Here's my synopsis of that evening."
"I was driving home from the hospital down Uccisore Turnpike at around 2:15, 2:30. I saw a drunk man, who I've recently learned was named General Revadac, stumbling alongside the road, and figured I'd do a good deed. I picked him up, got his address out of him, and continued driving along the road. A few minutes later, however, he suddenly became very violent! He began scratching at me, trying to choke me even! I had no choice but to pull off to the side of the road. After grappling with him for a bit, I was finally able to eject him from my vehicle, and I left the scene in a hurry. That was the last I saw of him."
"Thank you, Mr. Moore" said Chancellor. He turned to Judge Scotty. "What more is there to say, your honor? The victim was alive when last my client saw him. Open and shut."
"Ms. Moore!" exclaimed Krasivaya, purely to screw with Chancellor. "Are you honestly expecting this court to find the defendant innocent based entirely on his own testimony? Tell me again, how exactly can I find this jaded, naïve fantasy world you live in? It seems like a very pleasant place for holiday."
"It's quite simple really" explained Chancellor. "You follow the yellow brick road, then take a right at GO, but don't collect 200, then when you reach Neverland…"
"Who answers that kind of question?" blanched Krasivaya.
"Answer a stupid question with a stupid response, and the asker will realize she's not as smart as she thinks" quoted Chance. "That's in the Bible."
BANG! BANG! "ORDEEEEEER UUUUUUP!" yelled Scotty. "If we could get back to the trial please? You can save your bickering for later!"
Krasivaya glared at Moore for a minute. "… Very well, your honor" she muttered. She cleared her throat. "I have no questions for the witness at this time, your honor."
Huh? Thought Chance. That's either really good or…
"At this time, the prosecution would like to call a witness" Krasivaya pointed at Thompson accusingly "a witness who can prove that this man is nothing but a liar and a murderer!"
…or a one-way ticket on a southbound express train.
Judge Scotty sighed. "Always with the dramatics, you lawyers… fine. You may call your witness, Ms. Krasivaya."
"The prosecution calls the detective in charge of this case, Mr. Tracy Spade, to the stand."
Tracy Spade was a broad shouldered, slightly overweight man who always wore a Sherlock Holmes-style hat to 'enhance his perceptive abilities'. He had a pronounced chin, and the right side of his face (and only the right side) had a Five O'clock shadow. His voice was low and gravelly like a bulldog's bark, and often scared criminals and other unsuspecting people out of their wits.
"Your name and occupation, Mr. Spade, purely for formality's sake" Krasivaya instructed.
"Tracy Spade! Homicide Detective!" Spade barked. Chancellor jumped, scared out of his wits.
"Mr. Spade" Krasivaya continued, trying to keep herself from smiling, "please explain to the court the details of your investigation."
"YES MA'AM!" Tracy shouted, springing to a salute.
"The incident, from what the autopsy suggests, took place yesterday at around 3:00 in the morning. The victim, Mr. General Revadac, was found along the side of Uccisore Turnpike. He was badly bruised over his entire body, and he had been stabbed, through the back, with a surgeon's scalpel."
'OBJECTION!' came a perfect B-flat from the defense's bench.
"Must you sing, son?" asked Thompson, cradling his head in his hands, embarrassed.
Chancellor nodded. "When I object, I'm happy. When I'm happy, I sing. You know that."
"'Objection' usually has a negative connotation," replied Thompson.
Scotty cleared his throat; drawing the two Moores' attentions back to the trial. "Mr. Moore?" the judge asked. "You were objecting?"
"Oh, yes your honor. I'd merely like to note that a scalpel does not necessarily have to be held, used, or owned by a surgeon. I move that the word be stricken from the record."
"Duly noted" affirmed Judge Scotty, tapping his gavel lightly on the desk. "Mr. Spade, you will refrain from using such modifiers unless they are completely based in factual evidence, understood?"
Spade sprung to a salute again. "YES SIR!"
At the prosecution's bench, Krasivaya smiled slightly. So you caught that, huh Mr. Moore? And I was even 'stretching' when that word came up too… She flicked her hair back and acted annoyed. "Pointless drivel" she commented. "Mr. Spade, continue with your briefing."
Spade nodded furiously and continued to speak. "Alright, so Mr. Revadac was found with a plain old, ordinary scalpel sticking out of his back. The scalpel in question was imprinted with the words 'Maladie General Hospital', so it was easily traced back to the defendant's workplace. The most decisive thing we found, however, is undeniable proof of this crime."
'OBJECTION!' in C-Sharp.
"That's purely an opinion your honor!" interjected Chancellor, almost giddy with the way the word 'objection' rolled off his tongue.
Spade, however, was not as giddy. "What?" he balked. "What do you mean? How is blood under the victim's fingernails not decisive evidence?"
Cut to a 'murmur murmur' scene.
Bang! Bang! Bang! rang the gavel. "OOOOORDEEEEEEEER UUUUUUP!" yelled Scotty. "Mr. Spade, are you telling us that the defendant's blood…"
"Yes sir" nodded Spade. The blood sample taken from under Mr. Revadac's fingernails matched Thompson Moore's blood work." Spade grinned. "Now think about it! Mr. Moore attacks Mr. Revadac, and Mr. Revadac fights back! The victim gouges the defendant during the struggle, and that's where the blood comes from!"
"Decisive indeed!" mused Scotty.
Krasivaya laughed internally, smoothing her black dress with her perfectly manicured hands. Too easy, she thought to herself.
"Does the defense have anything they'd like to offer?" asked the judge.
"In fact I do, your honor," remarked Chancellor, sweating slightly under pressure. "While the defense is willing to concede that is unusual for such a thing to occur, in Mr. Moore's case, it is not so. You see, Mr. Moore is a kidney surgeon! It is quite possible that Mr. Moore operated on Mr. Revadac recently, and a small portion of the latter's blood made its way under the former's fingernails!" Chance slammed his fist on the table for effect. "The prosecution has proven NOTHING!" He grinned, confident that he has just turned the whole case around.
Krasivaya stared blankly at Chancellor. "Mr. Moore…" she said flirtatiously "that was almost… cute." She batted her eyelids seductively.
Chancellor reddened, and scratched his ear absent-mindedly. "Oh, c'mon, it was nothing…"
"To be able to mix up such a vital detail in such an important situation," she flashed a phony, pitiful smile at him. "It's like a little boy mixing up the words to his favorite song. Tell me, did you try to do that? I honestly can't see you being that… oh what's the word in English… stupid."
"Um…." Chancellor faltered. "Um?" He scratched his head, sincerely confused.
Judge Scotty shook his head, unbelieving. "I think Ms. Krasivaya is referring to the fact that the defendant's blood was found under the victim's fingernails, not the other way around."
Chancellor stared ahead blankly. "Oh…" he finally said, "really?" He flashed a wide smile and sweat dropped. The rest of the court just murmured, not believing the stupidity of the attorney.
Thompson, despite the fact that his own lawyer had just messed up grandly, laughed it off. "I knew taking you as my attorney would be a bit Chancy…" he said with a grin.
"Mr. Moore?" asked Scotty warily. "Are you sure you're up for this? That kind of error just isn't… acceptable."
"Give me another Chance your honor!" begged Chance. "It's just an endearing personality trait, that's all!"
Scotty eyed Chancellor carefully. "Very well… I suppose you may have another Chance, Mr. Moore. What are your thoughts on this evidence?"
"I think there's a very good explanation for it, your honor!" Chancellor declared; his chest puffed up with pride. The entire courtroom turned to look at him, waiting. "There was the… um… and the…"
"Don't fight it" whispered Krasivaya, running a hand up her arm and sighing gently. "Be a real woman… and accept your defeat." She turned her head to the side slowly, taking slow, shaky breaths.
Ack! So distracting… I can hardly fight back!… … wait a minute…
"THAT'S IT!" sang Chancellor, smashing the desk beneath him.
"I'm assuming that was a 'you're absolutely right, I'm going to give up now' 'that's it', correct?" asked Krasivaya.
"AS IF!" snapped Chancellor, catching Krasivaya off guard. "There's a fatal flaw in that explanation! It is made under the assumption that the victim was fighting back!" Chancellor pointed dramatically. "But the victim was drunk to the point of passing out that night! Even the autopsy report suggests such! He could not fight back!" Chancellor pointed to Spade accusingly. "You say that my client was fighting the victim? That is impossible! Mr. Revadac could not have fought back!"
Chancellor looked over at his opponent, and was shocked to see her remaining perfectly calm. Why, if he didn't know better, he'd have sworn she was… he didn't know better. She was laughing.
"Ms. Moore…" she laughed "that… wasn't half bad!" She smiled. "You've destroyed any hopes of getting a 'justified self defense' plea, you must feel proud of yourself." She flicked her hair back. "Mr. Spade" she ordered. "I think it's time we finished this… present the last piece of evidence, now!" She could hardly contain her pride.
Chancellor just stood there. Oh yeah… I guess I did just do that, huh… He smacked his head on the bench. Damn it Krasivaya! Why do you have to be so distracting?
Spade reached into his pocket and pulled out a videotape. "This is a security camera recording from the tollbooths at Uccisore Turnpike exits 1 and 12. The victim's body was found on the stretch of road between these two exits, and there are no other booths or turnoffs between the two. From what the tapes suggest, the only car that passed through the booth that night was that of Thompson Moore's… and the victim can clearly be seen inside Mr. Moore's car." The detective nodded to the bailiff, who brought out a VCR and television set. The tape showed the area of road in front of tollbooth one. "As you can see here, at around 2:45 am, Mr. Thompson Moore pulled up to the booth and grabbed his ticket." In the tape, a dirty, grimy, beat up, green Volkswagen Beetle pulled up to the booth. Thompson drove by the booth slowly, grabbing his ticket skillfully without stopping. General Revadac could be clearly seen in the back seat, pressed against the window in a drunken stupor. Detective Spade hit 'Fast Forward' on the VCR, and the tape shifted forwards. "Now as you can see here, the next time that vehicle appears on the tape is here" he pointed to the screen. "This is the area in front of the tollbooth at exit 12. I know it looks the same, but it's a different booth, you have my word." The courtroom watched the tape intently. Mr. Moore's shiny, beat up, green Volkswagen Beetle came to a stop at the booth. Thompson handed the man his ticket and drove off quickly. General Revadac was nowhere to be seen. The time stamp read 3:15 am. "As you can see from the tape" Spade concluded, "no other cars passed through that area that day. The only people who could have been between these two booths at the time of the murder were the victim and the defendant!"
"Thank you, Officer Spade" nodded Krasivaya. "You had quite a long paragraph to speak, is your voice scratchy at all?"
"Actually, it is" Spade replied "but lucky for me, it doesn't sound any different!"
You call that being lucky? Thought Chance.
"Hey Moore!" called Scotty. "If I were you, I'd stop talking to myself and cross-examine the witness!"
"Gee, thanks your honor," remarked Chancellor sarcastically. "I'm a complete moron… so I didn't know what to do next."
"Well it's about time you admitted it" shot Krasivaya before Scotty could protest. Scotty smiled, and Chancellor laughed nervously, ruffling his hair. Idiot. I set myself up for that one, didn't I? Oh yeah… and the whole… I shouldn't disrespect people… thing.
"I'm sorry your honor, I'll cross-examine now" apologized Chance. He turned towards the witness stand. "Mr. Spade… allow me to clarify, these tapes show only the area in front of the booth? As in where the cars drive by?"
"Yes," answered Spade. "Well… it also shows a little bit to the right and left, but there's nothing of importance there."
"True enough," admitted Chance. "So you have no footage of any areas other than this, correct?"
"So… if someone were to walk around the booth, or not pass it at all, they wouldn't show up on the camera?"
"Well… no…" Spade admitted. "But here's the thing… the only way onto the turnpike is through there… in case you don't know, the turnpike is entirely elevated off the ground, and the entrances are extremely narrow."
"Oh…" mused Chancellor. Drat! "Well, to save me from asking any more questions, what can't be seen on the camera?"
"Not much actually" clarified Spade, eyes rolling up into his head as he thought the question over. "I guess… you can't see inside the booth itself, and you can't see…"
"Your honor!" interjected Krasivaya. "This entire line of questioning is yielding nothing but a momentous waste of time!" She shook her head dramatically, allowing her hair to whip back and forth. "I motion that it be dropped immediately on grounds of irrelevance!"
'OBJECTION!' in the form of an F-chord.
"Your honor, my purpose here is to make absolutely sure that Ms. Krasivaya's evidence is as decisive as she claims. If there is any reason to assume a person could get around the camera, then there is room for doubt in this case!"
Scotty nodded in agreement. "Your objection is overruled, Ms. Krasivaya. You may continue, Mr. Moore."
"What do you mean my objection is overruled?" Krasivaya whined. "I… I don't get overruled, your honor! I… no… what?" Her voice cracked, she gave an unbelieving sigh, and tears began to swell up in her eyes.
"Oh, c'mon!" objected Chance. "Don't even think you're going to get me to take my question back by acting cute, I'm not buying it!"
Krasivaya looked at him, grinned, and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Fine. But I'm warning you…" she licked her lips "… things are going to get dirty from here on out… Mr. Moore."
Good gravy! There's nothing more dangerous than a woman who's beautiful… and knows it! Chancellor smiled. "As you wish" he replied. He turned back to Detective Spade. "Mr. Spade, if you could complete your answer?"
Detective Spade looked frantically at Krasivaya. She nodded slightly, and he continued. "I was going to say that… you can't see inside the booth itself… or in the small space behind it, where the employees park their cars."
Chancellor's eyes widened. "So basically, what you're saying… is that if someone were to drive by that way, or walk by that way… the camera wouldn't catch it?"
Detective Spade was silent for a moment. Then he looked down, disappointed. "I… yes, that's about right."
Chancellor flashed a big, toothy smile, and gave a soft 'ha!' of triumph. "Your honor, I think that casts more than enough doubt on the evidence."
"Absolutely right, Mr. Moore" Scotty agreed. "However, knowing Ms. Krasivaya like I do, I'm sure she has the necessary witnesses to back up her case."
Krasivaya nodded appreciatively. "You are correct, your honor. While I was, indeed, hoping that this evidence would be sufficient enough to close this case, I have also prepared for the two tollbooth-operators to testify. Do you have any other questions, Mr. Moore?"
Chancellor shook his head, allowing his white hair to shift about freely. "None at all, beautiful."
Krasivaya almost blushed, but managed to maintain her composure. "Very well then. The prosecution would like to call its next witness to the stand."
"Before we do that," Scotty interrupted, "my legs are getting a bit cramped from sitting in this chair, so I'd like to propose that the court take a twenty-minute recess. Any objections?" There were no objections. "All right then!" Scotty beamed. "This court is adjourned!" He banged his gavel, and the courtroom dismissed.
-District Courthouse, Defendant's Lobby 2 10:17 am.
"Doing good, Chance, doing good!" Thompson exclaimed, wrapping his son in a bear hug.
"Dad…" Chancellor blushed, embarrassed, "stop it… it's far from over." Chancellor paused, thinking. I wish I had a chocolate strawberry right now… He glanced down at his chain, saw his reflection, and remembered what he had wanted to do next. "Hey Dad!" prodded Chancellor. "I was wondering…"
"Krasivaya?" asked Thompson, a knowing look in his eye. "I don't know son. I suppose she's only doing her job… she could be a nice girl underneath…"
"I WASN'T ASKING ABOUT THAT!" Chancellor protested, blushing. "It's just… we didn't get to talk much before the trial started… I was wondering if there was anything you think might be important for me to know."
Thompson scratched his chin, thinking. "Well… there is one thing…"
"Yes?" Chancellor's eyes widened, and he began to bounce up and down on the balls of his feet.
"It's just… everyone keeps saying there was only one car on the turnpike that night…" Thompson frowned. "But I could have sworn I saw another one!"
"WHAAAAT?" Chancellor was knocked off his feet. "That's the kind of thing you tell me earlier, Father!" He picked himself up. "Did you see what kind of car it was?"
Thompson smiled. "I do actually, it was a beaut of car, it was. A nice, shiny, solid green Corvette."
Huh… thought Chancellor. I didn't even think they made green Corvettes…
BANG! The door was kicked down, and a young man burst into the room. His bright red hair was more unkempt than Chance's, his suit had clearly been pieced together from thrift stores and pawn shops, and not even his socks matched. Chancellor smiled. "Ricky!" He ran over to the young man, clapping him on the back.
"That's Ricardo Writchard, private eye, to you Ma'am" Ricky joked, slapping Chance on the back as well. They had been friends ever since Chancellor had moved in with Thompson. "And boy, are you going to be glad I came." He handed Chancellor a file marked 'Kyoto'. "I think that this will explain everything quite handily when the time comes."
Chance gave Ricky a puzzled look. He looked down at his chain, gasped, flipped through the file quickly, and smiled a broad smile. "YES!" he screamed, wrapping Ricky in a hug. "I thought I'd heard that name before! You've done great Ricky!"
"No big deal" blew off Ricky. "Anything else you need?"
"Actually…" Chance said, looking at his reflection. "Could you compile a list of green Corvettes in the area, and who owns them?"
Writchard frowned. "Do they even make green Corvettes?"
Chancellor laughed. "That's exactly what I thought! But still, it's important."
Ricky sighed. "I suppose I could see what I can dig up…" His face lit up, as though just remembering something. "Oh! Here!" He pulled a box out from his pocket.
Chancellor licked his lips. "If that's what I think it is…"
Ricky nodded. He lifted the lid off the box slowly, revealing a ridiculously huge chocolate-covered strawberry, nestled with care amongst fine paper wrappings.
Chance was overcome. In his mind, a choir of angels began singing. He gasped of breath, reaching his shaking hands slowly into the box, and dropping the delectable delight into his mouth. "MMMMM…" he hummed. Ricky took a small bow and left. For the rest of the time, Chance just stood there, savoring every moment.
- District Courthouse, Courtroom 12, 10:37 am
BANG! "The courtroom will now place its order!" Judge Scotty bellowed. "I've stretched sufficiently, so we'll continue where we left off. The prosecution will call its next witness!"
The witness who took the stand next was a young boy, maybe seventeen or eighteen years of age. His hair was dyed a shocking shade of green, and it was done up in Liberty Spikes. He wore a black sleeveless shirt and ripped jeans, and wore a chain around his neck.
He looked at Chancellor. "Wow!" he exclaimed in a high-pitched voice while fiddling with his over-sized glasses. "Your chain is totally hardcore man! I mean, seriously! It's like five times the size of mine! Seriously, where'd you get it?"
Chancellor was caught off guard by the question, but maintained his composure. "Well… I…" he paused, then laughed. "I actually don't remember where I got it. I've been told it's a tire chain for a monster truck, though."
"Seriously?" the teen blanched. "That's cool dude, seriously!"
"AHEM!" Krasivaya cleared he throat, and the squeaky-voiced teen jumped. "You will give your name and occupation to the court, and you will cease giving Mr. Moore the false impression that people care about his life."
"Don't mind her" Chancellor comforted. "She's just upset because I'm not drooling over her like some love-struck imbecile. You're perfectly in line."
The Russian prosecutor winced. "In your dreams maybe, Moore…" she grumbled.
The witness laughed. He ran his hand through his spikes. "My name is Liam Sirius, and I work the tollbooth at exit 12 of Uccisore Turnpike. And, seriously, you two look like you're about to tear each other's heads off… or suddenly run towards each other and…"
"It's the former, I assure you" Krasivaya interrupted.
"For once, I agree" nodded Chance.
Liam laughed. "Oh sure, you guys say that now but, seriously, deep down I'm sure…"
'OBJECTION!' sung in A major.
"Mr. Sirius!" Chancellor insisted. "If you could start your testimony, please? I'd like to finish this thing before lunch!"
"You mean you'll stay as long as it take to get me proven innocent, right son?" asked Thompson, only slightly concerned.
Chancellor paused for a moment, as if lost in thought. "Nah" he dismissed "it's definitely the 'before lunch' thing."
Krasivaya chuckled slightly, and Liam began his testimony. "Well let's see…I was working my shift at tollbooth 12. It was seriously raining until about 2:30, and I remember thinking 'It's seriously nice that I've got this tollbooth roof over my head.' Anyway, it's around… 3:10? 3:15? When the first customer in forever come by in this green Volkswagen Beetle. I look at his ticket, and it says he got on at exit 1, so I charge him the set fee and he drives off. Seriously, other than the defendant sitting right over there, no one else passed by."
"Thank you, Mr. Sirius" said Scotty, pondering the information carefully. "Mr. Moore? If you have questions, you may ask them now."
"Thank you, your honor." Chancellor tipped his head towards the judge. I've got this one! I'll catch him in his lie and break him! "Mr. Sirius, you work at tollbooth 12, correct?"
"Yup" replied the witness.
"And you also claim that the defendant gave you his ticket?" He glared at Liam.
Liam looked confused. "Well, yeah! I mean, seriously!"
'OBJECTION!' sung as D minor arpeggio.
"Are you serious, Sirius?" Accused Chance, smiling inside at the pun he'd made. "If what you claim is true, then the facts of this case are the exact opposite of what has been presented! As we all know, a driver hands in his ticket at the end of a drive on the turnpike, yet tollbooth twelve was the beginning of Mr. Moore's trip!"
"You wouldn't have seen him at all!!" He stood there, arm outstretched.
"Um… Mr. Moore?" ventured Krasivaya.
"Go on" Chance said shamelessly, basking in his own glory. "Go on and admit that my client is innocent, it's OK."
"AS IF!" Krasivaya snapped, catching Chance off guard. "I just figured you ought to know that you mixed things up… again." She dipped her head to hide a slowly forming smile. "And for its worth, it was somewhat cute… again."
"Oh!" Chancellor jolted out of his 'basking in glory' pose (an arm reaching up towards the heavens with the other planted firmly on his waist). He looked through the files in his briefcase. "Oh… you're right," he admitted. "I'm sorry… the oatmeal made the numbers run together, I thought that was a 'one'…"
"Oatmeal?" asked Thompson, his face lighting up with curiosity.
"I'll tell you later, Dad" Chance whispered. "Ok…" he addressed Liam. "I'm sorry about that… I hope I didn't scare you."
"You seriously almost gave me a heart attack, dude!" he screeched. "Why, if I didn't know better, I seriously would've suspected myself of being the real killer, seriously!" He wiped his glasses free of sweat.
"Again, I'm sorry… let's continue… Are you absolutely sure that Mr. Moore was the man you saw that night?"
"Absotivly, posilutely sure" nodded Liam.
"Why are you so sure?"
"He rolled down his window, so I got a seriously good look at his face."
"But didn't you say it was raining that night?" Chancellor tensed, ready to pounce.
"I also said that it had stopped raining at around 2:30," Liam remarked. "I mean, seriously! Pay attention!"
"Ah, yes, you're right…" Chancellor grumbled. "And you're absolutely sure that the vehicle was the same as well?"
"Well, it had the same driver, so yeah."
"I asked about the vehicle, not the drive, witness." Chancellor glared.
"Oh, seriously? All right then… yeah, it was seriously the same vehicle as the one they showed be in the tape… I remember it seriously well, because I've kind of got a thing for nice, shiny cars."
Chancellor felt a tug at the back of his mind. "You said… that you like shiny cars?"
"Yup! I mean seriously, there's nothing better than seeing a seriously clean, sparkly ride pull up to a window!"
'OBJECTION!' sung in triplets.
"Mr. Liam, you probably don't realize this…"
"But you're testimony just now causes a very disturbing contradiction!"
"There is no contradiction here!" Krasivaya insisted. "Whether or not there is anything better than a sparkling car pulling up next to you is entirely a matter of opinion!"
Chancellor looked down, disappointed. "Oh… I suppose you're right…"
Krasivaya smiled. "It's alright… it's actually quite amusing…"
'OBJECTION!' sung as a tri-tone.
"Do you really think that little of me?" balked Chance. "Of course I'm not objecting to that!"
"Then what are you objecting to, Mr. Moore?" asked Scotty.
"Oh? Scotty doesn't know?" asked Chancellor. "I'll be happy to explain, your honor. You see, Mr. Sirius has just testified that the car that pulled up to his booth was clean and sparkling! However, if you recall the security tape from earlier, Mr. Moore's car was dirty and grungy when he first entered the turnpike!"
"A clear contradiction!"
"The witness' statement is perfectly valid!" protested Krasivaya. "Whether or not a car is sparkly and clean or not is another matter of opinion! One man's 'dirty' may very well be another man's 'spotless'!"
'OBJECTION!' sung in quarter notes.
"But the security tape also suggests that Mr. Moore's car became cleaner! Opinion aside, dirt was removed from Mr. Moore's car during his drive on Uccisore turnpike!"
"And tell me, Mr. Moore, how exactly is any of this relevant? So the rain removed dirt from the defendant's car! All that proves is the laws of physics!"
'OBJECTION!' sung slightly off-key.
"But remember!" countered Chance, his fists tightening, "Your own witness has reported that the rain stopped at 2:30, and Mr. Moore's Beetle did not reach tollbooth 1 until 2:45! In order for water to have gotten on the vehicle, it would have had to have been kicked up by something…"
"something like another vehicle running through a puddle!"
Courtroom crowd go crazy!!
Bang! Bang! Bang! "ORDEEEEEEER UUUUUUUP!" bellowed Scotty. "Mr. Moore, are you suggesting that there was another vehicle on the road that night?"
"I CLAIM IT, AND I CLAIM IT LOUD, YOUR HONOR!" Chancellor yelled melodramatically.
"Preposterous!" Krasivaya scorned. "All vehicles that entered the turnpike that night are perfectly accounted for! There was not other vehicle on that road but the defendant's!"
'OBJECTION!' sung in falsetto.
"Correction, Ms. Krasivaya," said Chance. "No other vehicle went through the tollbooth other than the defendant's! However, as Detective Spade clearly testified…
You can't see inside the booth itself… or in the small space behind it, where the employees park their cars.
"Unless the prosecution can prove that no one passed by tollbooth 1 other than the defendant, anyone could have committed the murder! Even Judge Scotty!"
"HEY! Now wait a minute!" cried Scotty, "I'm not a killer! I'll have no more of your baseless accusations, Mr. Moore!" He raised his gavel.
"ACK!" Chancellor reeled back. "I was just using you as an example, your honor… I didn't mean anything by it!" Apparently, Scotty didn't know I was kidding…
Scotty eyed Chance carefully, and then set his gavel down gently. "I'm keeping a close eye on you, Mr. Moore…"
"As am I," Krasivaya proclaimed. "And it just so happens that I can prove that no one else passed by tollbooth 1 that day, Mr. Moore. The prosecution calls its final witness to the stand!"
The final witness was a tall man of Asian descent. He stood fully erect at the stand, his short, black hair moving slightly from the breeze of the air conditioner. He wore a crisp green army jacket, with blue slacks and a neatly pressed, crimson dress shirt.
"Name? Occupation?" asked Krasivaya.
"Truman Hitokiri" the man said tersely. "I work at tollbooth 12 on Uccisore Turnpike."
"Mr. Hitokiri," Krasivaya prompted. "Please give your testimony, and seal the case against the defendant."
"Alright then" Truman responded. "No one passed my tollbooth at all that night, except for Mr. Moore."
"That's it?" Chancellor's jaw dropped. "Don't you have… anything else to say?"
"No." Truman looked forward apathetically.
"Unfortunately for you, that's all that's required, Mr. Moore" Krasivaya said. "Unless you can find some miracle angle to work this case from, you're finished." She smiled, but for some reason, the usual satisfaction she felt was absent.
Chancellor stared down at his desk. "I'm… I'm going to cross-examine now, Judge Scotty," he finally stuttered out.
"Cross-examine what?" asked Scotty, perplexed.
"If you don't know, I don't…" Chancellor mumbled under his breath. He cleared his throat, and glanced down into his chain. Nothing. He was on his own.
"Mr. Hitokiri, you work at tollbooth 1, correct?"
"That's the booth Mr. Moore entered his trip from?"
"Can you give more than a one word response?" Chancellor asked, frustrated.
"Your honor!" demanded Krasivaya. "The witness is being non-responsive! He is here to testify!"
Did she just help me? Chance looked at Krasivaya. Thanks he mouthed.
Just don't screw this up she mouthed back. Then she winked.
Chancellor scratched behind his ear and turned bright red. "Er… um… well… Mr. Hitokiri!"
"What now?" he asked, clearly annoyed.
"So… you're certain that Mr. Moore went by your booth that night?"
"Yes." He paused for a moment, waiting until Krasivaya prepared to scream to continue. "I saw his green Volkswagen Beetle pull by the booth."
"I said Mr. Moore, not the car" Chancellor emphasized.
Truman rolled his eyes. "Yes. I'm sure Mr. Moore went by. I talked with him face to face, after all."
'OBJECTION!' sung in a perfect tenor.
"Mr. Hitokiri, I have to ask, why would you lie about something like that?" Chancellor tried to manage a hateful glare, but just missed.
"What… what do you mean?" Hitokiri faltered.
"What I mean is, while you may work at tollbooth 1, you only talk to customers when they're ending their trips! Mr. Moore entered the turnpike using your booth, and didn't even stop!" Chancellor smiled internally. He hadn't messed it up this time!
"Oh… yes, well… I must be mistaken… perhaps I was thinking of someone else" Hitokiri stammered.
"Which means that there was another person who passed by that night!" Chance pounced.
"The witness has said nothing of the sort, your honor!" Krasivaya quickly covered. "Mr. Hitokiri, will you explain away this discrepancy?"
"Erm... yes, well… It's like I said! I must be confusing Mr. Moore with someone I spoke with earlier that night. That's all." Hitokiri looked back and forth, hoping his explanation would pass.
"That kind of puts your credibility as witness in question, doesn't it?" pressed Chancellor. "After all, if you can't remember seeing Mr. Moore, and you mix up with other people so easily…"
"I remember seeing Mr. Moore!" Truman snapped. "I watched him go by out of boredom, he was the only car that passed by that late at night."
"Alone, yes?" Chancellor baited.
"What? Yes!" Truman slipped. "He was alone!"
'OBJECTION!' sung harshly.
"Another lie, Mr. Hitokiri." Chancellor shook his head, smiling. "Why do you keep doing this to us?" He smirked, glancing at Truman with a knowing look. "You're not trying to hide something, are you?"
"WHAT?" Hitokiri reeled back. "NO! Of course not! I'm just… a bit under the weather, that's all…"
"Is lying a physical illness now?" posed Chance. "They should make some cream for that, or maybe some sort of surgery, I think I see your nose getting a hair longer… his voice trailed off. For the first time in the trial, he Chancellor looked one hundred percent serious. "Mr. Hitokiri" he stated. "You have lied on two occasions thus far. 1) To establish your credibility as a witness, and 2) to distance yourself from the victim in this murder. Perhaps it's just me, but this can only mean one thing…" he struck an 'objection' pose. "You are Mr. Revadac's real killer!"
"WHAAAAT?" Hitokiri fell over on the stand. "How…"
"How on earth do you hope to prove such a thing, Mr. Moore?" Krasivaya challenged. "You want us to believe that a man in a tollbooth would catch a glimpse of a person riding in a car, and decide to commit murder?" She smashed the wall behind her with her hand. "That is preposterous!"
'OBJECTION!' sung opera-style.
"And what if it wasn't their first meeting?" Chancellor tensed. Everything was going exactly as planned. "What if they had met earlier? Years earlier in fact?"
"I'm not sure what you…" Krasivaya started.
"Take a look at this, Scotty!" He held up the precious 'Kyoto' file. "This here is a collection of newspaper clippings, covering the capture of an American cargo ship. This ship was caught selling contraband weapons to North Vietnam during the Vietnam War!" He pointed to a passage in the file. "Krasivaya? If you could lend me your pretty voice…"
Krasivaya turned red, then read the passage aloud. "One of the smugglers, Truman Hitokiri, has identified another man, one 'Greg Arias' as the leader of the expedition. A recent picture of Arias is shown here…" she stopped. Her bright, blue eyes bulged out of their sockets. "Th-th-th… that's!"
Chancellor nodded solemnly. "Go on. It's alright."
Krasivaya felt something catch in her throat. "That picture... that is General Revadac." She said reluctantly.
Chancellor nodded. "You see? A motive for murder if I've ever seen one." He pointed accusingly at Hitokiri. "Isn't that right, witness??"
Truman raised his arms up in defense. "Huh? What? No! I never…" He smashed his fist down onto the stand. "NOW WAIT JUST A MINUTE! Just because I have a reason to kill doesn't mean I did it!"
Krasivaya nodded. "You're absolutely right, Mr. Hitokiri. That's like saying Mr. Moore can date a man just because he looks like a woman."
Chancellor literally fell over. 'OBJECTION!' he sang, rising from the floor. "OK, THAT'S JUST GOING TOO FAR!"
Krasivaya laughed. "My apologies, Mr. Moore, but the point still stands. Unless you can provide some sort of solid evidence tying Mr. Hitokiri to the murder, you have done nothing but pose a decent theory."
Chancellor gestured dramatically. "Evidence? You want evidence? Fine! It should be arriving just about… NOW!"
Just then, Ricardo Writchard (who had been waiting outside the door) kicked open the courtroom doors, strolled in, handed Chancellor a slip of paper and a chocolate-covered strawberry, and walked out nonchalantly. There was silence for a minute, as Chance read over and the rest of the crowd wondered incredulously what had just happened.
Chancellor cleared his throat. "Your honor" he began "at this time, the defense would like to re-call the defendant Thompson Moore… it will be very short, I doubt that he even has to take the stand."
Scotty didn't know what was going on, but decided 'oh well, what the hell' and went with it. "Very well. The witness may make a statement."
"Thank you, your honor." Chancellor turned to face his father. "Did you see any other cars on the road that night?"
"Yes, I did" Thompson nodded. "I saw a green Corvette whip by my car when I pulled over to let Mr. Revadac out."
"No further questions" Chancellor smiled.
Krasivaya stood uneasily, unsure of what had just happened. "Mr. Moore? What exactly was the point of that? Of course the defendant would claim to have seen another car… besides that, I don't even think they make green Corvettes…"
"Follow my train of logic for a minute, will you?" implored Chancellor. "For starters, think about what you just said. Most people have never seen a green Corvette, in fact, I'm fairly certain they don't make them! Why on earth would Mr. Moore try to cover for himself by saying he saw a car that he doesn't know exists? That! Does not! Make! Sense!" Chancellor's speaking quickened; there was no turning back now. "Let's follow that a bit further, shall we? Having no knowledge that such a car existed, he would also have no knowledge of who owned such a car, correct? He wouldn't be able to use the information to cover for himself?"
Krasivaya shifted uncomfortably. As much as she hated to admit it, Moore was making more and more sense. "Yes… that seems valid to me…" she heard herself say.
"Then you'll have no objections…" Chancellor bellowed, "When I tell you that the only green Corvette in all of Boston belongs to none other than Truman Hitokiri!"
The courtroom burst into discord. Judge Scotty banged on his gavel over and over again, but to no avail. Krasivaya started pulling at her hair; she knew it was over. Truman Hitokiri began pounding his head against the witness stand, and Thompson began to dance a little jig.
Chancellor popped the chocolate-covered strawberry into his mouth and waited. There was no way left but 'innocent' from here.
When the courtroom finally died down, Chancellor explained the events of that night. "Truman Hitokiri, having finally gotten out of years of imprisonment, must have been quite shocked when he saw the face of the man he hated with his whole being drive by. Overcome with hatred, he got into his car and followed behind Mr. Moore; he wasn't seen because the security camera doesn't show the employee parking area. When Thompson had to pull over to the side, Mr. Hitokiri drove by; it was then when he splashed water on Mr. Moore's car, causing it to appear cleaner. He then doubled back, caught up with Mr. Revadac, and murdered him."
"I can understand why he didn't run him over… the blood splatter on the car would make it obvious it was him…" Krasivaya mused. "But where did the surgeon's scalpel come from?"
Hitokiri hung his head. "It… was just lying there on the road… it must have fallen out of Mr. Moore's car…"
Chancellor did a double take. "Wait… are you confessing?"
"That… that soon?"
Chancellor stared at the witness, unbelieving. "Don't you think that… you could have still gotten away with it? I haven't exactly…"
It was Chancellor who hung his head this time, but not in shame. He only did it to hide the tears of joy flooding down his face. At long last, it was over.
-District Courthouse, Defendant's Lobby 2. 11:45 am.
Writchard was waiting for the Moores when they burst into the room, overcome with joy.
"VICTORY SCREEEEEECH!!" the private eye yelled.
"OLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOOOO!" the three of them… well, screeched. It would have gone on for several more minutes had not Morage Thenue stepped into the room, holding both ears in pain.
"MOORE!" he yelled. "STOP THAT INFERNAL CACAPHONY AND GET OVER HERE!!"
Chancellor nearly had a heart attack. He had worked so hard to win his first case, and he was still going to be fired? Not cool. He rushed over to Thenue, his head down. "Sir… I'm very sorry sir, I…"
"Good job" the veteran attorney said.
Chancellor's mind went completely blank. He had never heard Morage Thenue compliment anyone before. "Come again?" he finally managed.
"I said good job" Thenue iterated. He looked down at the ground. "To be honest… I never liked you, Moore." He tried to meet Chance's eyes, but failed. "The only reason I got you an extension is because this trial was against Krasivaya… I thought for sure you'd lose…" He cleared his throat, and then patted the white-haired attorney on the back awkwardly. "Good job, son!" he suddenly said, over-emphatically, "You've done the firm proud!"
"It's nice to see my lawyers have such a healthy relationship" came Thompson's voice from the other side of the room. "Though I'm not sure I like your policy of assuming a case is a guaranteed loss…" He smiled. "On second thought, I'm probably a bit biased, so just disregard my opinion."
Thenue gave the doctor a queer look. What a strange family… he murmured under his breath. "Well, Chancellor!" he said aloud, "I'd best be getting to the office then, the next client could be just around the corner!' He walked out of the room briskly, putting as much distance between him and the weirdoes as possible.
Chancellor shook his head in disbelief. Some boss… He felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. He turned around, and looked into his father's smiling face.
"Thank you, son" said Thompson. "Let's hope this never happens again."
Chancellor nodded. "Yeah…" he laughed. "I hope I get a guilty person next time, defending the innocent is way too stressful."
"Indeed" came a feminine voice from behind Chancellor. Chancellor smiled, then turned to face madam prosecutor. Something struck him as odd; if he didn't know better, he'd say she was… he didn't know better. She was clearly uncomfortable and nervous.
Krasivaya refused to meet Chance's eyes. "Mr. Moore…" she began. "You have to understand something… I… have never lost… ever. For years now, I have absolutely squashed every worthless defense attorney out there…" She looked up, still not meeting Chance's eyes. "You have to understand… I'm… disappointed in myself right now… and angry. I want you to understand that… so you can appreciate what I have to say next…" She paused. Then she looked into Chance's eyes, and smiled. "Congratulations" she said, "I hope we meet again, Mr. Moore." She turned to leave.
"Hey! Krasivaya!" Chancellor yelled, causing her to turn around abruptly.
"Yes?" she asked, caught off guard.
He smiled. "My name is Chancellor. Call me Chance."
She looked at him for a minute, and then smiled back. "My name is Tanya" she replied. She turned to leave again.
"Wait! One more thing!" he called. She turned back around. "What do you think of chocolate-covered strawberries?" He held his breath. His view of her for the rest of eternity depended on her answer.
She looked at him with a puzzled look. "They're nature's most perfect food. Why do you ask?"
Chancellor beamed. "You'll find out later. See you around!"
She gave him a questionable look, then smiled again. She gave a small wave, then turned around for the final time and walked out the door. The three men watched her leave.
Chancellor turned to Writchard. "It's going to be a good life, isn't it?"
Writchard turned to Chancellor. "You are the luckiest man alive, Chance."
"She's that pretty huh?" he smiled.
"Not that!" Writchard explained. "You actually won in court today!" He put on a big grin, and punched Chance in the arm playfully. "If that's not luck, I don't know what is."
Chancellor's right eye began to twitch; then, without warning, he leaped on Ricky. He tightened his hands around the private eye's throat and began to squeeze, Ricky gagging hysterically.
"Don't do it, Chance!" laughed Thompson. "A lawyer who defends himself has a fool for a client!" Then, as soon as the fight at broken out, it was over. Pizza was ordered, and a toast was made to the world's newest Ace Attorney: Chancellor Moore.
Skip this part if you want, but I like reading these things, even when I've already figured out where the names come from.
-Chancellor and Thompson Moore.
Thomas More was an English lawyer in the 1500's. He was chancellor of England from 1529-1532. In Catholicism, he is the patron saint of lawyers.
Chancellor's name was also picked for use in puns such as: "Give me another Chance!" or "Tell me more, Mr. Moore."
The name was changed from 'More' to 'Moore' to honor a candy shop in my town that sells delicious chocolate-covered strawberries.
Thomas More was rowed to court every day by a poor peasant named Ritchie Rich (seriously). Ricardo Writchard is just an embellishment of that.
Depending on how you read it, it can be 'more rage then you' or 'more age then you' squished together. Describes his angry nature and the fact that he's an older man.
Allusions to two famous detectives: Dick Tracy and Sam Spade.
In Russian, 'Krasivaya' means 'beautiful'. Tanya is just a common Russian girl's name.
Named purely so I could make reference to the song 'Scotty doesn't know' by Lustra.
He uses the word 'seriously' all the time! Rearrange the two names and get "Seriously am".
Revadac is 'cadaver' (dead body) backwards. It refers to the fact that he's just a random victim I made up so I could write a murder story.
'Hitokiri' means 'killer' in Japanese, so when run together, his name reads: "True man-killer."
The first word isn't made up; it's Italian for 'killer'.
-St. Maladie General Hospital.
'Maladie' is French for 'illness'.
Oh, and if you're wondering, they don't make green Corvettes. At least not '08s.