The last judgment

      The Prosecutor’s Office is a tall building very similar to a castle, with two spires with turrets, decorated around the perimeter with ornaments depicting the flaming rays of the sun that rises above the winter frosts, demonstrating the severity of the justice system in all its splendor. The building is surrounded by a high fence made of thick rods, on top of which there are jagged crowns. And, apparently, solely for the purpose of giving the structure an even more formidable appearance, an inscription in Latin was erected at the entrance, in the most prominent place: “Iustitia — fundamentum regni” [“Justice is the basis of the state” (Lat.)]. I happened to visit this place several times. I knew that the building was really very majestic, and probably if it was my place of work, then I would become exactly like Miles Edgeworth — strict and elegant. To date, the Prosecutor’s Office is the place of investigation of the murder of a lawyer, and the suspect is the one who comes here every day to perform his official duties.       “Maybe I’ll be able to find something interesting” I thought, while I was going up in the elevator. Fortunately, the elevator was working. The closer I got to Room 1202, the more it seemed to me that I was having that terrible dream. Finally, I stopped at the door. The door, sealed with yellow ribbons, was ajar, and I stepped over the threshold, pulling on my gloves as I walked. The office, as expected, was empty. It looks like the police have already finished their work. The room was illuminated by the morning rays of the sun, which unnecessarily made its way through the uncurtained windows. In the middle, on the perfectly polished floor, there was a pool of blood that had already dried, and around it the outlines of a human body were drawn with chalk. I swallowed and squatted down next to him. A small golden badge in the shape of a sunflower glittered in the puddle, in the center of which was stamped the symbol of the scales of justice. The same badge was on the lapel of my jacket. My breath caught in my throat.       «Not enough blood for two stab wounds.»       There was broken glass nearby, fragments of which were scattered around. I looked closer and saw a broken frame under the table — it contained a photograph, and immediately picked it up. Even though I knew not to touch anything at the murder scene, but this time I still couldn’t resist. It was a picture I had seen once before: the famous lawyer Gregory Edgeworth with his arm around his eight-year-old son Miles. My eyelids drooped, and the events of my distant childhood, which have nothing to do with the real state of affairs, were buried in my thoughts.

***

      “When I grow up, I will certainly become a lawyer, like my dad, and I will defend those who have been unfairly accused and those who cannot defend themselves!” my best friend spoke with fervor, clapping his hands, looking significantly at me.        “Miles, you’re going to be a great lawyer. Someday you will become one! I have no doubt about it,” I answered with, smiling.       “Really? Thanks!” his cheeks flushed, and he lowered his eyes in embarrassment. “And what will you become, Phoenix, when you grow up?”       “I don’t know for sure yet, but I dream of becoming an artist. I think this is a very interesting activity.”       Miles raised his eyebrows in surprise and laughed loudly, and then gently took my hand.       “Why don’t you be a prosecutor instead? Then we will perform together in a huge hall and shout “protest!”.”       “The prosecutor? And who is it?”       “These are people who make sure that everything is according to the law, investigate crimes and control the judicial process. They should always seek a guilty verdict. And yet, unlike lawyers, they are harmful and always dissatisfied with everything. That’s why I’m going to be a lawyer!”       “But… but I’m not like that, Miles!”       “You’ll be an exception,” he said, and squeezed my hand tighter.

***

      Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes, my consciousness cleared, and everything fell into place. “You were the exception, Miles. A prosecutor with a kind heart and clear moral principles, for whom the main thing is an honest and impartial trial.”       “Are you the first — class lawyer defending Mr. Edgeworth?” a woman’s voice came from behind me. Turning around, I saw a rather young slender girl in a pencil skirt, a white blouse and high-heeled shoes, and in her hands she was holding a small notebook and a ballpoint pen. Her face seemed familiar to me, but I could not remember where I had seen her. “Phoenix Wright?”       “Yes, excuse me?” I nodded uncertainly, quickly putting the photo in my jacket pocket. She definitely knew who I was, and that puzzled me a little. “Oh, no, don’t apologize. Mr. Wright, you are a fairly well-known lawyer, famous for your ability to turn lawsuits upside down. I’m your fan,” the girl smiled dazzlingly and came closer to me.       «Is it really so famous that anyone can just come up and tell me my name and occupation?»       “Uh, yeah. Please introduce yourself.”       “Clarice Warren — I work as an administrator at the reception. I remember you well, because your hairstyle is very unusual.”       “Exactly! Registry office!..”       “Did you work last night? If you know something, please tell me. This is very, very important!” my voice rang with excitement.       “No, you understand… At the moment I am on vacation, but due to the fact that my colleague is being interrogated by the police, I was asked to return to work urgently.” Painfully, trying to keep calm, I looked around the office, as if hoping to find some clues in it. I didn’t see a single trace of a struggle, except for the ill-fated broken frame. Clarice followed my gaze.       “Mr. Wright, did you have time to examine the window? Perhaps there are traces on the glass or windowsill?” she asked suddenly, “I shook my head negatively. Obviously, there will be no excess.”       Without hesitating another second, I stepped to the window. The sunlight that hit my eyes was so bright that I closed them for a second before I could see properly again. Outside the window stretched the roofs of many skyscrapers of a giant city, and behind them thin sparkling needles of TV towers rushed to the sky. Miles’s windowsill was truly sterile—there was not a speck of dust on it, not a trace of fingers, and in general, there was no debris left at the crime scene.       «I would have such a love for cleanliness and order,” flashed through my head and I turned sharply towards the door, colliding with the frightened look of Miss Warren. She was standing a few centimeters away from me, at the moment removing her palm behind her back. I had a vague suspicion whether there was some hidden meaning in this movement.        “What are you?!” I hurriedly stepped back, hitting the windowsill.       “I’m sorry, Mr. Wright,” she said somehow plaintively, as if she were afraid that I would not answer her rudely, although it was completely unclear what caused her nervousness. “I think I’m interrupting you. I completely forgot about my job… sorry again… I’d better go.” She straightened her skirt, turned and walked to the door. Something strange was going on in her head, and I didn’t like it. It was unclear just what she wanted from me.       “Wait! Do you know who called the police?” I shouted when she had already reached the door. The girl stopped, looked at me and smiled. Even the shadow of a smile on her face was too unnatural, frightening, making me nervous. “Who are you?!”       “Security,” she replied and left.       The door slammed behind her, and the office immediately became quiet. Trying not to pay attention to the strange sensations, I went back to work: I went to the safe, opened the door and examined its contents. For some time, I studied the folders and documents lying in it, there was also some evidence there — various objects in plastic bags, understandable only to Edgeworth alone. But nothing unusual or frightening was observed. The envelope was nowhere to be found, and the recorder with the recording lay unnoticed between the folders.       “Can I help you by combining these two cases together at tomorrow’s meeting?”       The recorder was already in my pocket by this time. There was no more reason to stay in the office. The gloomy thoughts that tormented me did not leave me alone. As I went down the stairs, I thought about what had happened. The riddle with the key has not been solved, there is no irrefutable evidence of Miles' innocence — the situation was a stalemate. Soon a security post appeared in front of me, and with a heavy feeling, I entered a stuffy room where a man in uniform, about my age, was already sitting.       “Speak up. I’ve already figured out who you are and why you came here,” he said it suddenly, without hiding the disaffection on his face.       “Hello, can I talk to the person who called the police?”       “I’m afraid not, the police took him away — he will testify in court.”       “Witness! Did he really see Miles?”. My investigation was nearing its end, but the answers to the main questions were still unclear, and there were even more of them. If Edgeworth is telling the truth, under what circumstances did the guard notice him? Who is he, and what role does Miss Wanner play in this story? I was brought out of my thoughts by the sound of a mobile phone, on the screen of which the inscription “Dick Gumshoe” appeared. Dumbfounded, I pressed the button. As soon as the inspector’s voice appeared on the line, I felt uneasy. Apparently, he learned something important.       “Buddy, here’s the thing,” he began, “the autopsy report is ready, I sent you a copy by mail. And there’s something else you should know about. The prosecutor in this case will be… Franziska von Karma.”       “What?! Karma? She’s going to represent the prosecution, aren’t you kidding?”       “Unfortunately, no. I’m going to the airport right now to meet Miss Karma. So, get ready for tomorrow’s meeting, buddy,” the inspector said bitterly, turning the ignition key.”       “Thanks for the warning. However, I have one request for you: I need a dossier on the person who called the police, and the dossier of the administrators — who was sitting at the reception that night, and was on vacation; to clarify a few details.”       “You’re getting impudent, buddy,” there was a slight mockery in his voice, “okay, I’ll do it.”       We said goodbye, the inspector hung up, and I covered my face with my hand. “Franziska… I just didn’t have enough of you for complete happiness. Gee…”. Nevertheless, I gathered the remnants of my composure and began to read the report sent to me by Gumshoe.

Horton’s autopsy report

Crime scene: Prosecutor’s office. office 1202. The Office of the Supreme Prosecutor.

Time of death: 23:00-0:00.

Cause of death: two stab wounds in the chest area, inflicted at close range. The blows were struck from the front, in the heart, tangentially. Death was instantaneous.

      «It’s time to visit Edgeworth. We need to solve another important issue that has worried me from the very beginning.»

***

      I sat down at the familiar table that separated me from Miles with a glass wall. He looked at me very attentively, slightly lifting his head up so that his face was higher than mine, crossing his arms over his chest and crossing his legs. His eyes were surrounded by dark circles, but there was truly something devilish in those gray eyes. Or so it seemed to me. I was sure, in fact, there was a place for me in his heart, it’s just hidden behind the same solid wall. And in order to break through this wall, we must try to understand what feelings the one who erected it feels.       “What can you tell me about it?” I opened the case file and took out a photo with the murder weapon, showing it to him.       “This is a steel kitchen knife, it was stored in my desk drawer and was intended for personal use. Of course, it’s covered with my prints,” Miles chuckled. “Do you think the real killer used him?”       “No… Your knife was used for only one purpose — to frame you. The real murder weapon will still have to be found.”       “That’s right, Wright,” he waved his hand, getting up from his chair, and I stood behind him.       “Wait! The prosecution will be represented by Franziska.”       “Franziska?” his voice cracked, but he continued in a more confident tone: “a naive girl, someday she will understand that with the help of such techniques she will achieve nothing but tease the sensual strings of her soul.”        «I wonder what you think of me, Edgeworth?»       “And also …” I took out a photo from the inside pocket of my jacket, which both Miles and I were particularly worried about. There was a narrow gap between the table and the glass partition, and I handed the photo to him. His eyes widened. Frowning, he stared at it for a few seconds, and then slowly put it in the pocket of his black vest. “I found it in your office under the table in the shards from the frame. Who did you cross?”       “Before we met in the courtroom three years ago, I was driven by selfishness and a thirst to imprison as many criminals as possible. I went to all sorts of lengths to achieve this goal. Because of me, all the suspects, without exception, were convicted. I could bring any lawyer to his knees — I sought not so much punishment for these people as punishment for myself…”       “Edgeworth…”       “You changed me. Maybe the bone is not buried so deep, Wright,” a faint smile touched his lips, “will you fulfill my request?”       «Edgeworth, I’ll do anything for you!»       “Please don’t stay up late at work — I wouldn’t want my lawyer to look exhausted and tired. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he finished quietly, turned and disappeared into the shadows. The door closed, and I was left alone in the room alone with my thoughts.

***

      I returned to the bureau in a gloomy mood. Now we had to prepare for tomorrow’s meeting. It took a couple of hours to get acquainted with the investigation materials. There were a couple of interesting details. Some questions have already been answered, but I still couldn’t calm down. In addition, the situation was complicated by the fact that the murder weapon was not found. The desktop turned into a dump — folders piled one on top of another, papers were mixed up, and in all this chaos it was difficult to find the right page. My head was spinning, and it was rapidly getting dark outside the window.       “Nick, are you here?!” Butz shouted, barging into my office. I tore my gaze away from the pile of papers and looked up at him. It took a few seconds for the vision to focus. He was holding a large bag containing something rectangular in his hands. “How’s Edgey doing? Have you sniffed everything out yet? Imagine, my boss allowed me to attend the meeting — we will release such an article, well, just download!”       His screams were so familiar to me, as if they had been heard every day since I was born, so I didn’t even pay attention to them. I leaned back helplessly and closed my eyes. Butz became uncomfortable, and he continued in a low voice: “You don’t want to say, Nick?..” “There aren’t many leads,” I answered almost in a whisper. “Tomorrow we will have to look for any gap in the testimony, and build a defense on a bluff — if it somehow corresponds to the facts, it will already be more than luck. And this damned von Karma will go out of her way to get revenge on me and Edgeworth. Especially him.”       “It’s that hot chick with the whip, isn’t it? Dude, you’re surrounded by such beauties that I really don’t know what else to wish for you.”       «It’s started.»       “Larry — you’re my best friend, right? And do you understand how serious things are?”       “Well, yes, what’s the matter?” he smiled stupidly, scratching his head. “Do you want to talk about it? Damn, I knew you were a loser, Nick, but I didn’t think to what extent. All right, lovelace-Larry, will enlighten you how to behave with women. The main thing…”       “Larry! That’s not what I’m talking about! Tell me, why did you have to meet Edgeworth at such a late hour?!” out of anger, I slammed my fist on the table, and the folders lying on it jumped. The smile faded from his face, he immediately wilted and shrank. Alarm appeared in his eyes.       “Why are you so angry? Calm down, old man. I just had to do a little business with him. But this has nothing to do with you, understand? I am not your client and not your partner, so that you follow my every step! So mind your own business!” Butz nervously clenched his hands into fists. I got up from the table, came close to him, put my hand on his shoulder, at the same time taking control of our conversation.       “What are you trying to achieve? Edgeworth’s fate depends on me now. Do you want him to be convicted and sentenced to death?” I asked seriously, looking into his eyes. Butz blinked and almost dropped the package from his hands. There was no trace of his former self-confidence. “Don’t make it worse, damn it!”       “Nick… I… we… We actually met for you…” he stammered out, “your birthday is coming soon, so I thought…”       “Birthday?” I immediately glanced at the calendar hanging on the wall. And indeed, in a few days I would have turned twenty-seven years old.       “That day I was working on an article, as usual. And suddenly, I was struck by an unexpected thought — my friend’s birthday is coming soon. I decided to give him something that would touch him to the core. To do this, I needed the advice of a “wise man”. So after work, I went to the prosecutor’s office, knowing that Edgey always works there until night. And, well, my girlfriend, of course, was also next to me. And so. Edgey and I chatted next to his car in the parking lot, I invited him to a bar for a drink, but he refused — he said: “without Wright, drinking with you is like suicide.” That was the end of it, I still went to the bar and drank a whole bottle of bourbon, can you imagine? And by chance, Edgey told me about the events, asked me to come to you in the morning, and I came because I’m your best friend,” Butz blurted out in one breath, and I, feeling guilty and relieved at the same time, let go of his shoulder.       “So you just talked and broke up? Did you notice anything strange?”       “No, we talked for twenty minutes, I didn’t see anything strange.”       “And your girlfriend… didn’t she go to Paris?”       “That bitch? Well, yes, she left, saying that she would come as soon as the fashion show was over, but she never showed up. And I don’t need such sluts. I’ve found a new love, Nick! My Claire is so kind, gentle, sensitive, funny, and… and very beautiful!”       “Claire?! Clarice Wanner?” I think I broke out in a cold sweat.       “And how do you know my baby? Nick… what are you!..”       “No! I saw her today at the prosecutor’s office when I was conducting an investigation at the murder scene. Did you by any chance tell her about me?”       “What else! Suddenly, if she found out that you have your own law office, she would go to you. So you’ve seen her, right? Well, how did you like my baby? Tell me, isn’t she a beauty?” I just sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose with my fingers, feeling the answers to some questions slowly begin to mature in my head. “She even gave me a surprise, knowing that I am fond of painting — she gave me a picture,” Butz defiantly turned the package in front of my face.       “Can I take a look? You don’t mind?” I snatched the package out of his hands, took it by one corner and took out a canvas in a black and gilt frame. It depicted something like an era of French Marcel, let’s say, Louis XIV. It weighed quite heavily, if compared with my office painting. After examining it from all sides, I felt a strange excitement in my heart, and tapped the canvas backdrop with my fingertips. Suddenly, Butz’s face turned deadly pale, and his mouth opened in a soundless scream. Recoiling, he waved his hands, as if to drive me away from the picture, but I continued to persistently press on it.       “Hey! What are you doing! It’s a gift!” he yelled, interfering with me in every possible way, and eventually, I dropped the painting from my hands when he pushed me again. The painting, hitting the edge on the floor, broke into many small glass fragments, and the backdrop split into two pieces of foam cardboard, between which something flashed. “Nick!!! I’ll kill you!”       I bent down to examine what exactly was there, and for a second I was numb with horror — the bundle wrapped in a rag resembled a knife in shape. When I looked up at Larry, he collapsed to the floor as if knocked down.

***

      “Are you proud of me, Father? Your son, being the supreme prosecutor, is a murder suspect for the second time! How can I look at myself after that? How can I know that there is no blame in my heart? How do I get back to work knowing what rumors are being spread about my life? He will represent the defense side, and I have no doubt that he will win” from these thoughts, unconsciously, an image of Wright appeared before my eyes: his contented soft smile, shiny dark hair, a look in which calm conviction of what he believes was read. This man commanded respect. There was a spirit of freedom in him, an inner core. “Stop thinking about him!”       I was sitting on the bed with my back against the wall and my arms wrapped around my knees. Right next to my heart—in the pocket of my vest—there was a photograph of myself, about eight years old, and which I had kept for a very long time — most of my life, or to be precise, seventeen years — that’s how long it had been since my father’s death. Adjusting my frill, I squinted towards the small window, from which a fresh, cool night breeze blew. More than anything in the world, I loved the night, this mysterious chaos into which the universe was plunging. The moon was already high, it hung directly above the horizon, sometimes slightly hiding behind a veil of clouds, and illuminated the gloomy room around with a silvery shimmer. However, whether the moon was shining or not, my position did not change. I’m a murder suspect. Tomorrow’s court session portends interesting prospects, and may lead to a serious scandal. Suddenly, a memory flashed through my head, like an electric shock. The picture was very clear and clear.

***

      In a spring evening, quiet and warm, I am completely immersed in Charles Dickens' novel Bleak House, sitting at a table with a stack of textbooks spread out on it, listening to the soft rustle of the wind outside the window. I have absolutely nowhere to hurry — school lessons are done, the house is tidied up, the dog is out — why not sit a little more for home reading? Suddenly, there was a soft knock on the door, and then it quietly opened, and the younger sister entered the room. It became clear that something extremely unpleasant was about to happen — she looked unusually nervous, and apparently, she was very worried about something. She stopped on the threshold, tilted her head to one side, and looked at me intently. I looked up from my book and looked questioningly at my sister.       “Miles Edgeworth,” her voice sounded loud enough—clear, distinct and clear, “you are suspected of Greta’s murder!”       Greta was the name of her favorite doll, which she always carried with her. It was a gift from her father, brought by him from Germany — the doll was made to his order and represented a rather beautiful girl with long hair and huge dark eyes, dressed in a red dress with various patterns and frills.       I looked at her with bewilderment, not understanding what caused such discourtesy. The next moment, she handed the doll to me. The doll’s head was separated from the torso, and the dress had many cuts.       “But it’s not…”       “You must appear before the court immediately. It’s not up for discussion,” the girl took my hand and pulled me along, I obediently followed. We walked down a long, wide corridor, reached the next door and stopped. The nurse opened it, and I stepped into the room. It was dim and quite spacious. In the middle was a desk with some papers on it, and a big teddy bear was sitting behind it. He was a judge. We often played with Franziska in court, where I represented myself as a lawyer, and she as a prosecutor.       “So, the trial in the case of the murder of Greta’s doll is declared open,” said the sister, trying to give her voice the necessary seriousness and confidence inherent in the judge, “the prosecution will be the first to speak.” She curtsied and then turned to me. There was a smug smile on her face.       “Suspect, you will be a witness in this case. Witness, your name and the class in which you study.”       “Miles Edgeworth, eighth grade student. Franziska, I don’t need your doll.”       “Objection! The prosecution has evidence of your involvement in Greta’s death, as well as an obvious motive.”       “I’m listening to you carefully,” I crossed my arms over my chest, waiting for the continuation.       “To begin with, I saw you yesterday walking somewhere with a doll. You were specifically looking for a place where you could decapitate her!”       “Objection! To begin with, as usual, you left the doll right in the middle of the living room, and I couldn’t help noticing it, so I decided to pick it up and take it to your room. I never saw her again. This is the end of the trial, I am disappointed in you, the prosecution.” “No! At you… You had a motive! You wanted to take revenge for the time when I broke Dad’s tea saucer and made you look extreme!”       “Ah, that’s it. Prosecutor Karma, this case has nothing to do with this case, or maybe you have evidence?” it was impossible to hide the irony from the voice, looking at the confusion of the girl. The answer was silence. “Apparently, you don’t have any evidence.”       “Miles Edgeworth… you will be fined for contempt of court! I am Franziska von Karma — the best prosecutor in the history of mankind! How dare you doubt it?!”       “I’m afraid to disappoint you, Miss Karma, but you still have a lot to learn. By that time, I will take the place of the best prosecutor.”       “What?! But you wanted to become a lawyer like your dad,” my sister opened her mouth wide in surprise.”       “I… I thought for a long time, and came to the conclusion that I want to become a prosecutor. Lawyers don’t fight crime — they don’t care about justice; they only work out their check. Therefore, becoming a prosecutor, I will seek punishment for criminals, and not look for excuses.”       “Really?! Miles, is this true?” She yelled joyfully, jumping up and down. “Then we will fight side by side! And Dad will be with us too!”       I just nodded silently, looked up and came across a predatory gaze of dark sparkling eyes. The figure of a miniature Pomeranian appeared in the doorway. My thoughts were confused for a second, then a very simple idea came to mind.       “Franziska, when was the last time you played with your doll?”       “Yesterday, in the living room, and after that, I saw you take Greta.”       “It turns out that a Rocket got into your room, deciding to also “play” with Greta.”       “Actually… it was me who fired the Rocket into the room. I really wanted to put a blue bow on her! But, at that moment, Dad came in and told me to come down to dinner. So the Rocket stayed in my room —I forgot about it. It’s my fault!” There were tears in her eyes and a pleading note in her voice.       “Wait, don’t cry, let me…” without finishing, I picked up the doll. The neck anchor of the doll was not damaged, and she looked completely unharmed, except for a gnawed dress and a separated head. Carefully, I put her head in place, and tightened it until I heard a click, which meant that the structure was securely fixed. “Only it remains to replace the dress, and it will be as new.”       “Miles! You saved Greta!” Franziska was delighted and threw herself at me with hugs, “thank you, little brother!”       It took me a few seconds to recover from such a violent display of emotions, but this time I did not object, and hugged her back. After all, she was dear to me, even more than I could have imagined.