Brilliant dense attorney Octavian Charles straightened his tie, took in a deep breath, and turned to the jury. Silence fell over the court room. In the back of the room, Junior Partner Ophelia Jones turned to her associate and said, “Get ready, this is going to be amazing.”
You could cut the silence with a knife.
Octavian Charles cleared his throat. Everyone held their breath.
“Ladies and gentleman of the jury,” began Octavian, “This case was never about facts. This was never about the truth.”
“Did my client kill those people? You’re goddamn right she did. The children, too. If they had children she would’ve killed them. She sliced through them like butter, and then she spread them on toast.”
Everyone gasped again. Octavian, undeterred, continued his closing speech, “Now, the prosecution is going to try and spin this as a bad thing. They’re going to tell you that my client is an evil woman. That my client is a murderer. That this case is about murder.”
The jury nodded casually. It seemed like the prosecution had it in the bag.
“But this case isn’t about murder. Just like it’s not about facts.”
“Well what is it about then?” asked Judge Kweli.
“Well,” continued Octavian through a smug grin, “This case is about America.”
“Do I support my client’s decisions? No. Would I have done the same thing? Maybe, maybe not. But this is the United States of America. We defeated the British in 1776 so we would have the right, nay the responsibility, to exercise our freedom any way we saw fit. Sometimes that means putting cheese on apple pie, or firing our guns in the air on the Fourth of July or, yes, even killing a family of six. The constitution was designed so Socialist Liberals-like the prosecution-couldn’t mix and match our freedoms, like they do with their intravenous drugs and their hip-hop music. For God’s sake, this is America. We need to take it back from the do-nothing parasites attacking our guns, our right to pray in schools. If the prosecution had its way, gays would be serving openly in the material and our children wouldn’t be allowed to celebrate Christmas. Don’t you want to celebrate Christmas? It’s time to make America great again. Just like the founding fathers. We should still own slaves, if possible. So, start today. Take America back. Make America great again. Start by taking back the freedom of my client. A vote for innocent is a vote for the United States of America.”
“The defence rests, your honour.”
“No way Octavian wins this case,” a reporter screeched at Reagan Josh, Octavian’s law partner at their firm, Josh Charles LLP.
“I think you’ll be surprised,” Reagan whispered through a dopey half-smile.
Regan hoped the reporter didn’t notice that he was high as hell.
“Has the jury reached a unanimous verdict?” asked Judge Kweli to the Jury foreman.
“We have your honour.”
“What say you?”
“In the matter of the Commonwealth of Massachusettes versus Sheila Baby, on the count of murder in the first degree, we find the defendant not-guilty.”
The court exploded in murmurs.
“We also find the prosecution, ADA Arthur Blackwood, guilty of malicious prosecution and sentence him to five months in prison.”
“Nuts,” muttered Arthur.
The foreman cleared his throat before continuing, “And we don’t want to see a black spiderman.”
“Goddamn it Octavian,” screeched Ophelia as she rushed to the bench, “Do I ever not agree with your methods. But they get results. Listening to you, I don’t know where the law ends and feelings begin.”
“They begin,” Octavian whispered, pulling Ophelia’s hand to his chest, approximately where his heart might be, “Right here.”
The two embraced.
“Thank you so much for defending me!” screamed Sheila Baby, just outside the court house.
“I may defend you in there,” screeched Octavian, pointing to the court.
“But I’ll never defend you in here,” screeched Octavian, pointing to his heart, “You hurt a lot of people, Sheila. You have to make amends. You can’t go on living the life of a murderer. I may have saved you this time, but what about the next? And the next?”
Sheila harrumphed, turned around dramatically, and whispered, cradling the knife in her pocket, “Well next time Octavian, maybe you’re going to have to defend yourself.”
RNC Chairman Dermot Mulrooney, not the actor, crossed and uncrossed his legs, took a sip of tea, turned back to Octavian Charles, and asked, “So did you believe a single word you said in there?”
Octavian glared and, playing his cards close to the vest, carefully answered, “I believe what my client needs me to believe.”
“Because I went over the voting rolls,” continued Dermot, “And one Octavian Charles seems to have voted for one B. Hussein Obama, twice.”
“The Muslim?” asked Octavian lackadaisically.
“You don’t believe that,” grimaced Dermot, “But it’s important that the people do. Do you understand how important you are? We’re grooming you to be the youngest Chief Justice in Supreme Court history.”
“We can’t have people thinking,” continued Dermot, “That you lack loyalty.”
“Do you know what we do to people that lack loyalty?” growled Dermot as he picked up a picture of Jeb Bush, “We tear them apart.”
He tore up the picture.
“This isn’t the playground anymore,” Ophelia Powers screamed at her associate, “THIS IS THE LAW!”
The young child on her lap began to cry.
Octavian Charles walked in the lavatory and splashed water on his face. Almost immediately, he saw, through the bathroom mirror, a pair of feet disappear, as if to hide their presence.
Octavian sighed, assumed it was nothing, and continued playing with the faucet. He kept doing so until he felt the knife at his neck.
“Now, about my request,” crooned Sheila Baby as she kidnapped our dashing protagonist.
Next Time: Will amateur murderer Sheila Baby kill our intrepid hero? If so, who will defend her? I don’t think Josh Charles LLP can, that’d be a conflict of interest! Also, will Junior Partner Ophelia Powers ever find love? Some of this, and more, on next week’s Briefs!