~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
September 7, 3:11 PM
Detention Center
Visitor’s Room
The detention center’s concrete gray was interrupted by Ms. May’s pinkness.
“Well hello!” She trilled. “I didn’t expect anyone to visit me in a dank place like this… It’s really quite moving… Not!” Her expression changed into a glare. “Stupid lawyer!”
“Have you come to laugh?!” Her voice had risen into hysterics. “Yeah, laugh at the fallen April May!”
“Not particularly. I actually want to ask you something.” (Though you don’t seem to be in a state to answer lucidly.)
“Unfortunately, there is nothing I want to be asked.” She hissed. “Haven’t you done enough questioning?!”
(If most detainees are like this, I pity the guards who have to deal with them on a regular basis. That one in particular seems to have mastered a sort of Zen state… or perhaps he’s sleeping.)
Ms. May huffed and frowned. After a moment, she replied.
“… So? What is it you want to ask me, then? Hm?”
(Perhaps we could start with this antagonism of yours…)
“Well, it’s about that man who stayed with you in the hotel. Could you tell me about him? Who was he? And where is he now?” Miles unfolded his arms and instead placed them on the desk-type surface in front of him.
“Not a chance.” She didn’t meet his eyes.
“All right…” He sighed. “How about—why did you tap the Edgeworth Law Offices phone?”
“Aww.” She pouted. “When you say it like that it sounds so cold and criminal!”
“… Tapping phones is a crime, Ms. May.” (And not a petty one at that.)
“Oh, and I guess you learned that tidbit in Lawyer School, hm? Ugh.”
(She certainly is difficult. I understand the prosecutor’s attitude when dealing with her… utter boredom.)
“Why are you so hostile?”
She glared. “Oh, that does it! Bottom-feeding lawyer!”
(Is her hostility against me personally, or does it apply to all lawyers in general? This isn’t a productive conversation by any means…)
At that, Miles Edgeworth took his leave.
September 7
Edgeworth Law Offices
(It seems forensics has left. The detective isn’t here as well… the police were here for a long time, so it’s unlikely there are any clues left… Nevertheless, they’re still my father’s offices.)
(Though now… I suppose they’re just mine.)
The Edgeworth Law Offices, no longer infested with police, looked clean and ready for clients. Gregory Edgeworth’s desk had no clutter, rather, its wood surface had little besides a lamp, the office phone, and a few well-worn legal books on it. Many more of such books were neatly arranged in three bookshelves behind the desk. On the bottom rows of those bookshelves were files on every case the famous attorney took over his lengthy career—all arranged in alphabetical order.
(… Some are missing. There’s a noticeable gap in the middle of the W section… were these also taken, along with the papers in The Thinker? It seems so…)
Miles walked back into his office. It was for the most part a smaller copy of his father’s.
(There’s nothing I can really do here… so where can I go? The Gatewater Hotel is merely a stone’s throw away. Perhaps a chat with Mr. Hammond is in order as well? Maybe now that I’m entrenched in this whole affair, he would be willing to talk more openly…)
(The bellboy checked in the man who was with Ms. May. I should go speak with him.)
September 7
Gatewater Hotel
Lobby
“Ah, welcome, sir!” The bellboy’s polite smile greeted Miles as he walked into the hotel. “You had quite the performance today, if I do say so myself.”
“Th-thank you.” (What an odd way to describe trial proceedings.) “I appreciate your cooperativeness, even when you did not expect to be called to witness.”
“No, not at all, sir! What happened today can only help the Gatewater’s “rep”, as they say.”
“… “Rep”…?” Miles blinked.
“Yes, indeed! Our reputation will swell as the hotel where the murderer used a wiretap! And we can charge a premium for the room, of course—it will be absolutely fantastic for business, sir!”
“A-actually, Ms. April May was not charged with murder. She was only charged with wiretapping.” (I always end up stuttering when I come here. The people here are certainly… characters.)
“And I, too, will become famous!” The bellboy went on over Miles’s comment, “The Bellboy who brought the murderer iced coffee…!”
(Why is everything like a movie to these people?)
“And so!” He had not even stopped for breath, “You are our honored guest. Please, let me know if there is anything I can do for you!”
(Well, now that he’s offered, I can certainly ask him about a few things.)
“Oh, her?” The bellboy said, “Sir—not to boast—but the moment I saw her, I knew. “She’d do it!” I said! Yes, I said those exact words to myself when I first laid eyes on her!”
(Do… what? The murder only occurred that night, not when she first arrived!)
“I wanted to ask you about the man who was with Ms. May.” Miles said.
“Ah, yes. He struck me as a real “lady killer”, pardon the expression. I knew it from the moment I laid eyes on him, sir. He and I are of the same ilk—we both carry the scent of… danger.”
(There is nothing dangerous about this bellboy besides his apparent glee over participating in a murder investigation.)
“Anyway,” The bellboy continued, “If you had a photo of that man, I’m quite sure I could identify him.”
(… Could you not just describe him to me? Or is he just unremarkable yet recognizable…?)
“If I see him again, I’ll have to have a chat with him.” The bellboy’s propensity for talkativeness must have some effect on his job. “He and Ms. May have inadvertently done so much for this hotel! I actually think we should add a subtitle—Gatewater Hotel: Murder Manor! Well? What do you think?”
“… Of course.” Miles managed to say.
(Perhaps I should take my leave… After all, the only thing he’s doing is babbling about the hotel.)
He bid a curt farewell to the bellboy on his way out.
(… Let’s see. What’s left unsolved in this investigation so far? I don’t know which files the culprit took, other than the fact that they were out of the W section of my father’s documents. Mr. Hammond’s denial of Stalwart’s request was rather peculiar as well—they both were involved in an incident—a murder case—three years ago that led to Atticus losing his attorney’s badge. A “leak” caused by a man named Redd White… Could Redd White be the man with Ms. May? Is this all connected somehow?)
(Furthermore… White—if he’s involved, then the section stolen out of my father’s files would make sense…)
September 7
Hammond & Co. Law Offices
(The secretary told me Mr. Hammond was in his office today, but it appears this is not the case…)
The dark wood and plush leather of Hammond’s office lacked something without its owner’s gravitas.
Something on the polished desk caught Miles’s eye.
Three photos—(They look like they’re from a few years ago.)—were lying there. Miles picked them up with the tips of his fingers. A few short notes were written on their backs.
“RB-4 Incident – they’re labeled “A”, “B”, and “C”.”
Picture “A” was a photo of a smiling man with curly hair poking out from under his hat.
(That’s a picture of Atticus. But why does Mr. Hammond keep a photo like this? Moving on…)
Picture “B” was of a woman with short, dark hair who looked to be in her late forties.
(… There’s something incredibly familiar about this picture. I can’t shake it...)
The final picture “C” was of a man with purple hair who was positively beaming.
(The RB-4 Incident. Apparently, it involved Atticus… so perhaps RB-4 was the case both Hammond and Atticus were a part of? If that is the case, then Atticus can surely tell me about it.)
(It’s not like I can just take these without asking, though… my phone has a camera function. I can take a picture of these pictures to use.)
September 7
Detention Center
Visitor’s Room
“So, how’s it going out there?” Atticus greeted Miles with a smile, which the attorney returned, if only for a moment.
“I need to ask a few things about the RB-4 Incident.”
“… Oh. I see.” He stretched out his arms before crossing them and sitting up straight. “I think you’ve stumbled upon a wasps’ nest of a case. Your father didn’t want you to get stung… but enough of the metaphors! Alright. What about RB-4?”
“Was that the case you and Mr. Hammond investigated? The one that led to your disbarment?”
“Sure, we “investigated” it. More like… we both got caught up in it. He was on one side, I was on the other… we crossed paths a lot. Yeah, we investigated it.” Atticus looked at a spot just above Miles’s head. “But why do you think that’s relevant? You’re not the type for pointless questions.”
“I found these in Hammond’s office.” Miles pulled up all three photos and showed Atticus his phone. “They all say “RB-4 Incident” on them. From the information I had, I could see that RB-4 was important because he had your picture as part of the profiles of the case.”
“Ah, I get it.” He nodded. “I’m surprised there weren’t more of them. Kind of a random assortment.”
“There’s you, and I find this woman maddeningly familiar.” Miles pointed to the respective pictures, “Do you know who she is?”
“Sorry.” He shook his head. “I don’t. I couldn’t mistake that guy’s face, though. The third picture—that’s Redd White.”
“I see… in what way was he related to RB-4?”
Atticus stared up at the ceiling.
“… I don’t know if I can tell you.” He said finally. “It’s not that I don’t want to, though. But what you need to know is that your father was investigating him for a long, long time.”
“Why can’t you tell me?” Miles blinked.
Stalwart’s shoulders shook for a second.
“Sorry, Miles. You’re so naïve… it’s funny, and kinda sad at the same time.” He sat up. “Guess it’s because you kinda lose that in this line of work. Why don’t you look into that yourself? … You’ll be able to put a lot together without me.”
(With what I know… if this Redd White turns out to be the man staying with Ms. May, then things will start to come together…)
September 7
Gatewater Hotel
Lobby
Miles skipped the small talk and presented the photo at once.
The other man took this breach of social convention in stride.
“That’s him, Detective.” The bellboy said.
“… I’m an attorney.” Miles reminded him.
“Oh, I know that!” He smiled. “I just wanted to say “Detective” once. Oh, you know how it is. Like the movies.”
(I don’t have a clue what this man is going on about.)
“Yes, that is the man who checked in with Ms. May. Without a doubt.” The bellboy reached into his pocket with one hand while still holding a tea tray in the other. “How about I write an affidavit swearing that’s him!”
“An affidavit…? I suppose that wouldn’t hurt.”
“Yes! I’ve always wanted to write an affidavit, sir. Henceforth I will be known as the bellboy who swore the affidavit!” He mumbled incessantly to himself as he found a surface on which to write.
Miles couldn’t help rolling his eyes, though he accepted the piece of paper.
“Thank you for your… cooperation.” He thanked the bellboy before making his escape.
(What else can I do…? Ms. May, perhaps, could tell me more about this man, especially now that I have solid backing to say who he is.)
September 7
Detention Center
Visitor’s Room
“You again?!” April May glared. “Why are you here!?”
“If you were cooperative, I wouldn’t feel the need to return.” Miles said, withdrawing a folded piece of paper from his pocket.
“What’s that?” She blinked.
“It’s the bellboy’s affidavit. He told me about the man you checked in with.” He held up his picture of the photo of Redd White.
“O-oh!” April May gasped.
“Shouldn’t he be a witness to the murder? The fact that the prosecution didn’t call him to testify is remarkably suspicious...” Miles said.
“Fine, fine! I’ll talk.” She grumbled. “He’s my boss. Redd White, the president of the information gathering conglomerate, Bluecorp.”
“Information gathering?” He furrowed his brow. (It sounds like information technology, but not quite.)
“Sort of like a… detective agency.” Ms. May said, crossing her arms.
(Not information technology. Duly noted.)
“And he was the man with you that night.”
She paused and glanced down at the ground.
“I’m… I’m scared to talk. I-I don’t want to end up like them…” She murmured. He thought he saw tears welling up in her eyes.
“… Where is Bluecorp located?”
“Huh?” April May glanced up at him.
“It’s impossible for me to force you to talk.” He said, “Hence, I’ll speak to the man himself.”
“… You really think you can do that.” Her laugh was genuine, though bitter. Nevertheless, Ms. May gave him directions to Bluecorp.
(Redd White… he’s the only possible suspect right now. I have to talk to him and see what he says—and see if I can confirm my deductions are correct.)
September 7
Bluecorp Inc.
CEO’s Office
The office was decorated… oddly. The gold desk, a small-scale replica of the Bluecorp statue outside, and an incredibly pretentious painting that took up half the office wall…
… and the owner of the office could qualify as peculiar, too.
“Welcome!” A voice that could only be described as “fabulous” boomed out and filled the entire space. “Please, furnish me with the title of your personage!” The office’s owner did not stand.
The man sitting at the desk in front of Miles wore an offensively purple suit and an inordinate amount of rings. In fact, most of what the man wore was offensive and inordinate in pure flamboyancy.
“Your name! What is your name?” The man continued. “I was just inquirably asking the title that you go by.”
(His vocabulary is… I don’t even have words to describe it.)
“Yes, I know. My name is Miles Edgeworth.” He offered his hand, but the other man did not seem to notice it.
“Ah, Mr. Edgeworth! I see. Splendiferous… Please, sit down!”
“Perhaps I have intimidated you with my giantesque vocabulary?”
(My condolences to the English language.)
“My name is Redd White. CEO of Bluecorp—you know, Corporate Expansion Official. My business dealings bring me into contact with the most elite of the elite. So I am afraid I am not used to conversing with the wordily-challenged.”
(My. Condolences. To. The. English. Language. I have no other words… not kind words, anyhow. Focus, Miles.)
“Hmm. Let me guess.” Mr. White put his hand to his chin in a mock thinking pose. “You are an attorney, fresh out of law school, correct? That’s the only explanation for why you would come to meet me like this!”
(… and what does he mean by that?)
“Oh, well, no matter. What business does a lawyer have with a man such as myself?”
(His arrogance is overwhelming. Everything about this man… is overwhelming.)
“… Ms. May is an employee of Bluecorp, correct?” Miles crossed his arms.
“That’s right. She was my secretariat.”
“What a shock it was to hear what she has done!” Redd White held out his arms dramatically.
“I presume you’re referring to the wiretap.” Miles drummed his fingers on the armrest of the chair.
“Indeed! She is paid to answer phones. Tapping them is not in her job description! She does gather information for us as part of her duties—but I assure you, we do not condone illegal methods! It is ineffable that she would do this.” He furrowed his brow and steepled his fingers, elbows resting on his desk.
(His vocabulary is atrocious. It sounds, though, as if Ms. May is being used as a scapegoat. Best to get to the point.)
“On the night of the murder, were you in April May’s hotel room?”
Redd White’s presence shifted from flamboyant to overbearing—comedic to tyrannical.
“Who can say?” The CEO mused. “I seldom pay attention to mundane details, like time, and also place. I always say, don’t worry, be happy!”
“Even so, Mr. White. The hotel bellboy has stated that he does remember you quite clearly.” He crossed his arms.
“No matter, no matter. The bellboy can say what he pleases—I still won’t talk to you. If you want me to speak…” Redd White shrugged. “Go ahead, put me on the witness stand—though I really doubt you’d be compable of doing that.”
(Compable is not a word. Nevertheless… that question of why the prosecution didn’t call him as a witness still stands.)
“The police, the courts, to me they are mere toys. Playthings! For my amusement!” The CEO chuckled. “Bluecorp is a company of the future! We are the future. Buying and selling information is our business. In only ten years, I’ve built it up into the grandacious conglomerate you see before you now. And, Bluecorp was named after the color “blue”! I named it so! Because, I like the color blue, of course. Fantabulistic, is it not?”
“I see you’re staring at that painting of mine.” Redd White said.
“Er, yes. For starters, its nameplate reads “Property of the Hammond & Co. Law Offices”.” Miles said. “Ergo… why isn’t it there?”
“I’ve stated my point, Mr. White.”
Redd White’s expression did not change. However, something tense was in the air.
“… Mr. Gregory Edgeworth, was it not?”
“Miles Edgeworth.” He frowned. “Gregory Edgeworth is… was my father.”
“No matter. It appears you do not fully grasp your position here.” Redd White held out his arms dramatically. “I ask again: who are you?”
“I’m a defense attorney, Miles Edgeworth.”
“No, not quite, my friend. A mere defense attorney. Worth absolutely nothing. Just like that sorry excuse for a lawyer, Grossberg!”
“I don’t think that—” All at once something—Miles felt a sharp, heavy impact—(He just… punched me!) His eyes widened and he found himself putting a hand to his cheek. A bruise had already started to form.
Redd White sat back in his chair, as if nothing had happened.
“Well, well. Mr. Lawyer, what will you do about that? Charge me with assault?”
“Oh, charge away! I welcome it! For, it is you who will be found guilty!”
“Heed my exposition: the police, the courts, the prosecutors, they all do my bidding!”
(… Is that level of control possible? In theory or in practice…?)
“This world is beyond your comprehension; I don’t expect you to understand.” The CEO chuckled. “You came from Hammond’s, I presume? Then you must ask him: why do I have this painting, that evidently belongs to him? Perhaps then you will know.” He smirked, “Perhaps he will explain how a man can live purely for himself! … Go! There’s nothing more to discuss.” Redd White finished with a dismissive wave of his hand.
Miles stared for a moment.
He then found himself standing up and walking out without a word, taking the elevator back down to the ground floor.
(Back down to Earth… perhaps I should pay a visit to Mr. Hammond. He seems more involved than I imagined at first glance…)
September 7
Hammond & Co. Law Offices
When Miles entered Mr. Hammond’s office, the man was staring off into the distance.
“A-ah. You… Mr. Edgeworth! Hello… come in.” He gestured to a chair.
“You seemed quite pensive, Mr. Hammond.” Miles said, taking a seat. “Is something the matter?”
“Hm… I was just thinking.” He muttered. “Thinking about this whole mess… Anyways. That was quite the performance today.”
“You mean, the trial?” Miles blinked.
“Of course. That was quite the spirited defense, Mr. Edgeworth. Very much like your father’s, in fact.” Hammond leaned back in his chair.
“So you attended today’s proceedings.” (Odd, that he couldn’t defend Mr. Stalwart yet went to the trial anyway.)
“Ah, yes. Something bothered me all last night, you see, couldn’t get any sleep.” He mused.
“Atticus Stalwart… if things had gone badly for him…” The older attorney shook his head. “I guess I owe you my thanks.”
“I know I’ve asked this previously…” Miles drummed his fingers on the chair’s armrest. “But, why did you refuse Mr. Stalwart’s defense request? … As his attorney, I believe I should know.”
“That I should tell you…?” Hammond sighed. “I think I can reserve the right to withhold that… no, I’m sorry. I just… this whole mess.”
(He’s quite troubled… but nevertheless, visiting hours are practically over. I can’t talk to Atticus about it… so I need the information from him.)
“I visited Bluecorp earlier today.” Miles crossed his arms. “Mr. Hammond… something there seemed… off.”
“I mean this in the politest way possible—spit it out, Mr. Edgeworth.”
“There was a rather prominent painting hanging in Mr. Redd White’s office. It’s nameplate, however, bore the name of your offices…”
“A-ah. I see.” The older attorney did not meet his eyes.
(Redd White has some control over nearly all the people involved with this case. Bluecorp is an information-gathering company… and for some reason, White has been able to mask his involvement with this case.)
(The conclusion that can be drawn from these premises is dramatic… but, it makes sense.)
“Mr. White is blackmailing you… am I wrong?”
Mr. Hammond did not respond for a full minute.
“I think…” He finally said, “I think you may be the right person to tell this to. The son of Gregory Edgeworth may be able to put this debacle to rest.”
Robert Hammond took a deep breath.
“Redd White lives through intimidation. That’s how he makes his living. Bluecorp is a company that, in essence, finds people’s weaknesses. For three whole years…” He sighed. “It’s because of the RB-4 Incident. I’m sure you’ve figured that much out.”
(Something about this case is deeply ingrained into RB-4.)
“I couldn’t defend Mr. Stalwart because of that. White would have destroyed me if I did… this is hard to confess, I’ll say. But it’s impossible to arrest him.”
“… Why impossible?” Miles asked.
“He knows everyone’s weaknesses. He has an iron grip—on prosecutors, attorneys, judges, police… politicians.”
“Wh-what?” (That level of control…!)
“His reputation feeds itself. He lends out information—most gained through illegal means—to lawyers seeking their guilty or not guilty. And then he has their weakness, that they used illegal methods… and so, they are bound, unable to harm themselves and therefore to him.” Hammond sighed.
“What is the RB-4 Incident?” Miles frowned. “I know it was an unusual murder case, but that’s as far as my knowledge goes.”
“Yes, that’s the sorting code the police gave it. It was about three years ago… a partner and friend of mine was murdered. Marvin Grossberg.”
“… My condolences.” (What else am I supposed to say?)
Hammond nodded in acknowledgment.
“He was investigating Redd White. In fact, the defendant for that case was White; he was the last one to see Marvin alive—they met the night before his body was discovered. Redd White requested Mr. Stalwart to be his defense, but Stalwart refused.”
“And somehow, that led to his disbarment?”
“White proved that Stalwart used forged evidence in previous cases.” Hammond explained. “I acted in Stalwart’s defense at the Bar Association council, but it was useless.”
“And what about the case itself?”
“It’s unsolved to this day.” He said, “Actually, the defense tried to indict me while I testified to the court… but neither side could produce decisive evidence. That’s the RB-4 Incident.”
(… Something’s odd about this, though.)
“Mr. Hammond… why were you blackmailed over this?”
“I mentioned the trial of the RB-4 case… and that the defense attempted to indict me as the killer. Of course, the defense had plenty of phony evidence to frame me as the true culprit…” He sighed. “White made a deal with me. He would hold back, and the two of us would walk free… I didn’t want to lose everything, to be jailed for a crime I would never dream of committing… but really, I was a coward. And he holds that deal over my head to this day.”
(A tangled web of secrecy…)
“White controls the law of this country as he sees fit.” Hammond said. “But… if you still want to challenge him…”
“It’s not a matter of want.” Miles said, “I need to.”
“Your father was also investigating him. Gregory Edgeworth was a very smart man—and I gave him Marvin’s records on Redd White as well. Take a look at his office; I’m sure he left something somewhere.”
(I know at least the most obvious files were taken. Mr. Hammond does have a point, however…)
“Thank you.” Miles stood, holding out his hand. “I wholly appreciate what you’ve told me.”
Hammond shook his hand firmly. Something about him seemed lighter.
“Thank you, Mr. Edgeworth. I wish you the greatest luck in your investigation—you’ll need it.”
September 7
Edgeworth Law Offices
(… It’s odd. Everything looks as it should be… and not like a crime scene at all.)
Miles found himself walking his usual path to his office before catching himself.
(I need to look at my father’s files.)
He stepped over to the bookshelves behind his father’s desk and crouched down, scanning the rows of small binders.
(A lot of the W section was taken. I should glance over the other files, for something more subtle…)
(A, B, C… nothing much here… Q, R, S… Stalwart? No, nothing of use there… this file is quite large—Suicide…?)
Miles slid the binder from its place, opening it and leafing through its contents.
(It’s a collection of suicide reports… how peculiar. Numerous politicians, policemen, et cetera… Most if not all of these have penciled-in notes in the margins. It’s my father’s handwriting—“R. White.” My father must have concluded that White was in some way involved in these suicides.)
(To think that a man like him caused all this suffering! And no one can arrest him for it…!)
September 7
Bluecorp Inc.
CEO’s Office
“My, my, my. The novice attorney is back. Aren’t you persistent?” White chuckled from his desk chair.
“I have something I need to ask you.”
“Mr. Lawyer…” He clasped his hands on his desk. “I do despise having to repeat myself. But my point, it seems, has yet to penetrate your thick skull. Stop bothering me! Unlike you, someone as important as I has very much work to do.”
Miles stood in front of Redd White’s desk, refusing to sit.
(Unfortunately, my work is dealing with criminals like you.)
“If you try my patience further…” His grin did not change, “I fear a nasty accident may occur. Do I make myself clear?”
(He’s threatening me… but I have here a vital clue my father left behind. I cannot let it go to waste!)
“Mr. White—this is an article describing the suicide of an attorney. He was using forged evidence to clear his clients. Then, evidence of this forgery fell into the hands of the press… Before the Bar Association could hold a hearing, he took his own life.” He heard his own voice trembling.
“And…?” White held out his hands in a shrug. “How does this concern me?”
“I found this article in my f-father’s office.”
“Mr. Gregory Edgeworth…?” Something shifted in his expression.
“He kept a file filled with articles like this one… And each one bore your name, Mr. White.” Miles found himself with both hands on the CEO’s desk, leaning forward and his voice raising. “I have every reason to suspect you, Mr. White—you blackmailed that attorney! The evidence is clear… And not only this man. You threaten and coerce hundreds of others! This company is built on blackmail! I know I’m right!”
“… I can’t believe you’re so furious over such a bizarre accusation!” At that, Mr. White’s smarmy grin snapped back into place. “Now, Mr. Edgeworth, what should you be doing now… investigating me? No, no, no. I think not. Shouldn’t you be searching for the one who murdered your father?”
Miles felt his momentum draining out of him. His hands balled into fists.
Mr. White pressed a button on his phone.
“Secretary’s office, hello?” A woman’s voice came through.
“Mr. Edgeworth will be leaving now.” White said.
“H-hold it, Mr. White.” He floundered for something to say, “You’re… wrong.”
“I’ve already found the killer. The man who killed my father… is sitting right here, in front of me.”
“And just what are you insinuating?” He met Miles’s eyes evenly.
“My father was investigating you… He kept records on you. For that reason, you had April May tapping the office phone… Then he was murdered, and all the documents expressly on you disappeared. I’m not insinuating anything, Mr. White. I’m saying it outright—you murdered my father!” Someone was shouting—he was shouting.
Redd White said nothing; he pressed a button on his phone.
“Secretary’s office. Yes, Mr. White?”
“Never mind what I told you before. Instead, please connect me to the public prosecutor’s office.”
(What is he… what is he doing?!)
“Of course, sir. One moment please…” A short tone sounded from the phone.
“… Mr. White? What are you doing calling me at a time like this?”
“Hello. Chief Prosecutor? I’ve changed my mind—I want to testify tomorrow.” He said smoothly.
“The Gregory Edgeworth case. I witnessed the murder, you see! And thus, as a very important witness, I would like to testify.”
“What? Now? Why? I thought you said you didn’t want to go to court.”
“Quietude. I told you I changed my mind, didn’t I? … Oh, and one other thing. Send the police over here, right away. The man is standing right in front of me. He seems angry and could be violent!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Are you even listening? The executioner! The hatchet-man! The liquidator! The killer, man!”
“Wh-what?!” Miles stuttered, his voice breaking, too loud.
“Mr. White… this… this isn’t another one of those…”
“Chief. Prosecutor. I do not believe you are in a position to freely offer your opinions to me, correct? I’m telling you to send the police, immediately!”
He hung up with a press of a button.
“Didn’t I tell you, Mr. Edgeworth…?” White turned to him, “You are a mere lawyer… as was your father.”
“H-how… how dare you!” Miles was shaking.
“And I’ll point the finger at you, and you will be tried as your father’s killer. The case is as good as settled, for no lawyer of any worth will defend you… I have friends in the local lawyer’s association, you see.” He smirked. “You’ll be given a lawyer so stupendously inept that they’ll make even you look competent.”
The room swayed before his eyes.
“Detective Gumshoe reporting, sir!” The door burst open. “Ah! You’re… Miles Edgeworth!”
(At least he recalled my name… and didn’t mix me up with Larry…)
“Detective Gumshoe.” Mr. White said, “I present to you: the man who killed Mr. Gregory Edgeworth!”
“What?!” The detective’s mouth dropped open.
“Take this despicable human being into custody.” At White’s orders, the detective had to comply. “Farewell, Mr. Edgeworth!”
September 7
Detention Center
Detainee’s Room
(I can’t believe I’m here.)
The sparse room held a desk, with a chair, and a bed. Miles chose to pace instead.
(I can’t believe I’m here. Out of all the outrageous things… this is preposterous! This whole situation is outlandish, absurd…)
He wasn’t aware of how much noise his shoes made until now.
(Father… is dead. Since two days ago. My father died two days ago.)
(Phoenix Wright is a corrupt prosecutor.)
(Atticus Stalwart is the defendant. And now I’m being tried for my father’s murder.)
Five steps from wall to wall.
(And the man who killed my father is also responsible for Atticus’s disbarment. And hundreds of people are being blackmailed by him. He’s coercing hundreds. And he killed my father.)
(I need to think. The state is going to assign an attorney to defend me… but that person will likely be under Redd White’s power…)
(The only logical conclusion is for me to defend myself… I have to.)
(I must confront Redd White. He’s going to testify in the trial... and that’s the only place… will Phoenix Wright be a friend or foe in that? Knowing him… but I don’t know him anymore. Who is he now?)
(Redd White is the true killer. There must be a way to break through the grip he has on the legal system… and the weapon I have is the truth.)
September 8, 3:37 PM
Detention Center
Visitor’s Room
(Somehow, the first trial was only yesterday… and my trial is tomorrow. It is certain that White will try his best to indict me… and very likely that the prosecutor will be included in that endeavor. The state tried to assign an attorney to me, but I refused.)
Atticus’s voice broke Miles from his thoughts. He looked up to see the man with a somber expression.
“I see they’ve let you out of detention.” He observed.
“Yeah, just now they did.” His face did not change as he took a seat. “Looks like we switched places.”
“Indeed.” Miles crossed his arms.
In a space of a few moments, Atticus’s expression grew even more grave.
“… I’m sorry to get you tied up in this mess. Even more, now. You know whoever your attorney is will—”
“I’m defending myself, actually.”
“Defending yourself?” He smiled sardonically. “That’s very like you … and that makes sense. White’s got his hands in the legal system, that’s for sure… but it might just work.”
“I have to.” Miles said, “If I don’t, then… then the truth will be lost.”
“And Gregory’s death will be unsolved.” Atticus crossed his arms and looked down.
“… I cannot allow that to happen.”
