Chapter Text
Miles Edgeworth had thought that he knew what he was getting into when he decided to become a detective.
Four years ago, his mentor and adoptive father were proven guilty for the murder of Gregory Edgeworth, his father. Four years ago, he decided that everything he had stood for, everything that he had been taught by his mentor was fake. Four years ago, the evidence and the guilty verdict spelled the end of everything Miles thought that he knew. In one single moment, his entire life came crashing down before him. Everything had changed when he was the defendant and his mentor was prosecuting, and everything changed when the defense attorney pried apart the lies and told the truth to the court. She had pointed down the prosecutor with a wild claim, pushing until he cracked and admitted the truth of that terrifying day.
As Manfred Von Karma was thrown in jail, Miles found himself thrown into the unknown, spinning fruitlessly into the abyss.
What was he to do, now that everything he had become was built off of a lie? He'd become a prosecutor to bring justice to wrongdoers, just so others could not get away with crimes like those committed against his father all those years ago. All this had happened with the encouragement of Von Karma, without him knowing that he was being misled the entire time. This was the true betrayal, one that Miles felt had made his whole life purpose seem worthless.
So, he stepped down as a prosecutor.
He could have become a defense attorney. It was what he had always told his father he was going to be, before everything that happened that day. He had the knowledge, the understanding of the law to do it.
But he was tired of the courts. He wanted to take things into his own hands, not rely on the corrupted law system.
A day after he resigned, he applied for an open position as a detective.
His adoptive sister would have called him a fool, but he knows that things have to change. She didn’t say anything. Maybe she saw it too.
-
Miles pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance, trying to hide the look on his face.
“Thank you so much for finding him, sir,” the mother says through her sobs of relief. “Who would have thought he’d have been in the hospital for those three months with amnesia?”
“Mom…” The twenty-one-year-old son looks rather uncomfortable with his mother’s public show of distress. “I’m an adult, I was fine, and everything’s okay now.”
“I thought I’d lost you, I can’t just…” The mother starts sobbing again.
Miles holds back a sigh.
“It’s no problem, miss. It’s my pleasure, actually.”
As if.
-
Miles doesn’t hate his job, per se.
It’s interesting. It’s no different than doing research for a case as a prosecutor, really. He’s always been fascinated by it, the clues and pieces that come together to form a full picture. It’s always been a puzzle to him, a game of chess, if you will.
Manipulate the scene so it all makes sense, and the solution will be found easily.
Detective Edgeworth doesn’t have the same ring as Demon Prosecutor, but he’s not necessarily proud of the last title he had either.
Before, it was about presenting evidence, making a case so fierce that no one could object. And at that moment, it was more of an art, more of him wanting to achieve perfection, more of the ends justifies the means. He did anything he could to make the perfect case, even if it meant sending actual innocent people to jail.
(Sometimes the faces of certain defendants haunt his dreams, the tears, the horror, the screaming. How he wished he could take this back, take everything back.)
However, as much as Machiavelli is remembered for the quote, no one remembers the satire of the piece. It was only after Von Karma’s trial that he rediscovered the Prince.
When someone in power says that the ends will soon justify the means, you should turn and run in the other direction. When someone needs to excuse their actions by bribing you with the empty promises of the future, that should be a cause for major, major concern.
The court system is a breeding ground for corruption.
So working as a detective is different, but just enough. Miles thinks his reasoning is lacking slightly, but if anything, he gets to make some sort of impact.
Maybe one day, he’ll be able to change the legal system, make it equitable, and bring justice to all.
But that’s for another day.
-
A file drops onto his desk.
Miles flinches backward. "What is the meaning of this intrusion?" He looks up to see his co-worker.
"Sorry, pal," Gumshoe said nervously. "New case file. Well, not new, actually. But it's your newly assigned case."
Miles bit his tongue to keep himself from saying anything too harsh. Gumshoe was one of the only co-workers he tolerated. "I see. Thank you, Gumshoe."
Gumshoe looks like he wants to say something more, but then shrugs slightly to himself. He steps out of the room as quietly as he had come in.
Miles' eyes scanned over the file folder. Nothing out of the ordinary, although it looks as if it’s been thrown about between several people with how worn out it is. He flips it open.
PERSON : Wright, Phoenix
MISSING SINCE : 23 September 2015
OCCUPATION : Law student
LAST SEEN : At the campus dining hall. Verified that he had swiped inside. Transcripts of interviews of witnesses within.
Miles blanches.
… Phoenix Wright?