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Gregory Edgeworth hates ice cream. Its icy chill is just one measly snowflake in the blizzard that Gregory trudges through every day in court. Its sweet chocolate flavor calls to mind the image of Jeffrey Master, stuck in the detention center with soulless eyes peering at him across the glass.
“Maybe… it’s better if I were to be found guilty. You’ve already done so much for me, I can’t put you through any more. I already confessed, please just drop my case.”
Gregory slams his hand on the table. “I can’t do that!” he yells, attracting no attention from those nearby. The guards are used to his objections by this point. “I’m a defense attorney. You’re my client. I’m not giving up on you until the very end!”
Master’s eyes twitch, and a quiet note escapes his lungs. But just as soon as it appears, Master glimpses a phantom across the room and clams up, shivering. Questioning ends at that point.
Miles Edgeworth loves ice cream. Gregory gets it for him whenever he asks.
Miles comes home from school one day. His appearance is heralded by quick footsteps, and Gregory and Ray turn to face the boy as he catches his breath in the doorway.
Gregory stands up and scoops Miles up in his arms. “Hey, sport!” he greets the boy as Miles securely positions himself on his father’s back. He rests his head on Gregory’s shoulder.
“How was school today, Miles?” asks Ray from a distance.
Miles raises his head to answer, but his stomach does the talking for him. It grumbles, and Gregory puts him down.
“Are you growing again?” Gregory smiles, but Miles shamefully looks down. Gregory turns to his assistant. “Ray, order some pizza, will you? We need some extra food tonight.”
Despite his looks, Gregory hates routine. He lives to deduce crimes and protect his clients, to find the truth that everyone around him tries their damndest to hide. His greatest pleasure in life is when his client sneaks a smile at him while the confetti and gavel signal their innocence.
It’s a hot June day. IS-7 began in December. For 6 months, Gregory has trudged up the courtroom steps and played the same fucking game against von Karma. Every day, Gregory questions the validity of the autopsy report. Every day, von Karma calls some corrupt detective or coroner onto the stand to confirm its legitimacy. Every day, Gregory claims that no definitive evidence against his client exists. The gallery groans, and the judge reluctantly gives all parties another day to “investigate.”
Of course, there’s nothing to investigate. That’s the whole reason why the case is so deadlocked in the first place. Every day after the trial ends, Gregory and Ray split up. Ray heads off to the detention center along with Master’s daughter. Gregory meets Detective Badd outside the courtroom and they get a late lunch together. They talk about life, Gregory’s defense philosophy, Badd’s experience with various prosecutors, etc. They mourn the circumstances that brought them to the current case. Most importantly, they talk about how draining it is for Gregory to bluff and bullshit his way through every day spouting the same “Evidence is everything” creed that spews from the mouths of corrupt prosecutors. When that conversation topic is finished, Badd grasps Gregory’s hand from across the table and the two of them sit in silence for several minutes.
After eating, Badd drives Gregory home. If Miles is home from school by then, Badd gives him a lollipop. Sometimes Miles’ tongue slips and he calls Badd “Daddy.” Miles, of course, immediately corrects himself and laughs it off. Gregory admits it to no one, but he entertains the idea of Miles calling Badd a father quite frequently. Unfortunately, he struggles to find an opportunity to bring it up. It’s never the right time.
Ray’s voice on the phone gets farther and farther away, and Gregory turns to Miles. “How was school today?”
“It was fine, I guess.” Apparently Miles was entering his edgy teen phase at age 9. “Nothing happened.”
“Oh, really?” Gregory asks. “I got a call from your teacher today. I must say, I’m rather disappointed in you.” It was a bluff, of course. Defense attorney’s can’t survive a minute in court without bluffing.
Gregory expects Miles to call the bluff or defend himself, but instead he breaks out into tears and buries his face in Gregory’s coat.
“I knew it!” comes a muffled anguish. “I knew you’d be disappointed in me!”
“Miles, it’s okay. Sit down and tell me what happened.” Miles wipes his eyes with his arm and Gregory leads him to a table.
“It was during P.E,” Miles explains, “We put our bags down and played for a little bit. When I came back, my lunch money was missing.” He looks up at Gregory, and his father gestures to continue. “I never lose my money. It was stolen.”
Gregory prepares to ask a question, but Miles quickly breaks eye contact and continues.
“Everyone thought Phoenix Wright did it. He had a cold today and didn’t play with us during P.E. He was the only one who had the opportunity to steal my money.
And so we held a class trial. Everyone screamed at Phoenix, asking him where he hid it and to give it back. And I-” Gregory stared at him expectantly.
“I defended him,” Miles finished, “I showed the fact that there was no definitive evidence Phoenix stole the money, and everyone backed off. They’re still suspicious, but I got them to back off.”
Gregory listens for a few more seconds, until it’s clear that Miles was finished speaking. He stands up and sits next to his son, wrapping his arm around the boy.
“That’s a wonderful story. Why would I ever be disappointed in you for defending someone who had nobody to rely on?”
Miles clenches. “For a few months, you haven’t talked about the cases you’re on. You used to smile so big when you talked about your clients. They used to have dinner with us. Now it’s just Uncle Ray and Mr. Badd.”
It appears Gregory underestimated his son. He thought he was doing a good job of hiding the monotony of the last few months.
“The current case is going very well, Miles. But since I haven’t gotten the verdict yet, I haven’t had an opportunity to bring Mr. Master here for dinner,” he lies. Hopefully Miles wouldn’t see through it. The worst of times are when lawyers have to force their biggest smiles, after all.
“That’s a lie,” Miles spits. Shit. “I’ve been watching the trial, Daddy. School gets out early once a week, I head to the courtroom on those days and I watch you and Uncle Ray. People talk about you. They say you stall for time and that you should just con-cede the case.”
“I see. Why didn’t you ever talk to me after the trial?” Gregory asks.
“I was planning to,” Miles answers, kicking his feet under the table, “I wanted to give you a hug and tell you that I would always be on your side, just like you for your clients. When you exited the courtroom, you always looked like you were about to cry.”
“A lawyer can’t cry until it’s all over, Miles,” Gregory adds.
“I know!” chirps Miles, “And you never cry. In fact, the reason I never talked to you was because I always saw you with Mr. Badd. The only time you smile is when you’re with him. I didn’t want to take your time with him away.”
Gregory is stunned into silence. He stares at Miles with wide eyes, then quickly turns his head away after processing his son’s words.
“Thank you for telling me that,” Gregory nods, “But how does this relate to what happened with Phoenix earlier today? I still don’t see a reason why I would be disappointed in you.”
Miles stands up. “Sometimes I followed you and Mr. Badd to the restaurant..,” he shamefully admits, “I heard you talk about how you have to stoop to the prosecutor’s level in order to get more days of investigation. You said you hated it. And I did the same thing in the class trial today! I have to admit that Phoenix is the only person who could’ve stolen my money, but there was no physical proof that he actually did it!”
Gregory heaves a deep breath and takes a knee. When he does so, Miles in the chair is the same height as him. “Son, I would never be disappointed in you for that. You defended your client, and you played the cards you had. Nobody can ever expect more than that.”
“Does being a defense attorney mean people hate you?” Miles blabbers.
Gregory ponders for a moment. “No,” he says definitively, “As a defense attorney, I’m an ally to people who don’t have anyone else. I don’t give up on them until the bitter end. If that means I’m hated by doing that, then so be it. It just so happens that the current case I’m on has a lot of that happening.”
Miles beams and says something he really should have said earlier. “So does that mean I can invite Phoenix and Larry into the house now?”
“Wait, your friends have been waiting outside the house the whole time?” Gregory gapes.
“...Yeah,” comes a much quieter response.
“Don’t keep them waiting!” says Gregory as he stood up, “Go bring them in so I can meet them!” Miles nods and rushes over to the doorway as Ray walks back in.
“I heard it all,” Ray says. “You’ve got a great kid, there.”
“I’m just glad he’s making friends,” Gregory notes. “I’m ashamed to say I haven’t paid enough attention to him for the last few months. He’s getting taller and smarter every day.”
The sound of laughter coming from three young boys interrupts their conversation. It’s coming from Miles’ room upstairs.
“I’m going to check on them,” Gregory says. “I want to meet the person my son saved. Oh, and Ray. Order more pizza.”
Upstairs, Gregory knocks on Miles’ door and finds the three children having a pillow war in the bedroom. Both of the strangers have spiky hair, one with orange and one with black.
“Hi, Daddy!” Miles waves and gestures to the orange spiky-haired boy. “This is Larry! Besides me, he was the only other person who believed in Phoenix’s innocence.” Larry smiles and waves. “And this is Phoenix! I defended him today.” Phoenix bashfully places his hand behind his head and smiles.
“Well, now,” Gregory proudly says, “I’m a defense attorney myself, and I have a little tradition I do for my clients after a verdict. Would you and Larry like to have dinner with us tonight?”
Larry speaks up first. “Free food? Amazing! I’m so stoked!” Phoenix chimes in shortly after with a more thankful response. The doorbell rings and Ray’s voice is heard talking to the delivery worker. Larry and Phoenix run downstairs at lightning speed, arguing about which pizza they called dibs on first.
“I should get down there, too,” Miles says, stepping off his bed. “But before I do, there’s something I want you to tell you, Daddy.”
“Oh, and what would that be, Miles? I would love to know.”
“You’re a defense attorney. You’re there for people who nobody else is there for. But who’s there for you?” Miles observes.
“Miles, I’m not accused of a crime right now,” Gregory laughs, knowing the true meaning of Miles’ question. “I don’t need a defense attorney.”
“I’m not talking about a defense attorney!” Miles pouts. “Are you getting dumber with your old age?”
“I’m only 35, Miles! That might not seem young to you, but there are a lot of folks who would love to be my age.”
“Uh-huh. Yeah. Keep telling yourself that,” Miles snidely says to the side. Gregory pretends not to hear it.
“I’ll keep what you said in mind,” Gregory says with a slight smile, “Now come on, go join your friends for dinner. They’ll eat all the pizza before you get there.”
Miles darts out of the room and Gregory heaves a deep sigh. He takes out his phone and punches some digits in, putting it up to his ear.
“Detective Tyrell Badd, this is Gregory Edgeworth speaking. Would you like to come over and have some pizza tonight?”