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Miles Edgeworth was a just man. A failure in every conceivable way, but a just one.
Just a failure.
A just failure.
Miles did not try to dwell on it, but it dwelled in him and was never quite quiet enough to ignore.
It screamed when he received the call from the Chief Prosecutor.
“We are prosecuting Maya Fey for this murder, all the evidence points to-”
The man's voice sounded far away on the tinny office phone line, “Phoenix Wright forged it all and left before the sister arrived. You will be prosecuting him for the remainder of this case.”
“With what evidence?”
“Testimony from a very important witness who saw the murder from across the street.”
“April May? If she's changed her story again, that's less than trustworthy.”
“Not her, Redd White is going to testify that he saw, from the hotel window, Phoenix Wright bludgeoning his mentor to death,” it was as if he could sense Miles opening his mouth, “And Edgeworth? His testimony will be the truth, do you understand me? The absolute truth.”
Miles's mouth clicked shut and the words were forced out through gritted teeth, “understood, sir.”
“The judge has also been made aware that this trial will end in a guilty verdict for Phoenix Wright. All you have to do is let Mr. White tell his story on the stand.”
“Yes, sir.”
He had heard of Redd White, the deceptively tacky CEO of Bluecorp, the paragon example of not being able to judge a book by its cover. Nobody who ever listened to him thought for a second that anything but flowers grew in his brain. That was until their companies ended up under Bluecorp's umbrella. Much like his pink secretary, the ditziness was an illusion.
He was intelligent, a respectably sharp knife in the drawer. This meant his testimony was likely accurate, trustworthy. His existence as a public figure also explained why he hadn't spoken up sooner. Witnessing murder wasn't exactly good for public relations. The discrepancy between his and his secretary's statements, if they were indeed staying in the same hotel room, still needed to be explained.
Her statements on the presence of Maya Fey had been inconsistent, perhaps as if she hadn't seen the girl at all. If this Phoenix Wright, this… Stranger, was capable of murdering his own mentor, what wasn't he capable of? If April May had seen him, it wasn't impossible that he had seen her, and took the opportunity to threaten her when she was alone.
And then pressed her on it in court when he knew everything. Revolting.
Miles knew he ruined so many things. Disaster flowed from his hands swifter than anything else.
Every day he worked to even out the damage he had done.
But Phoenix Wright was not like this because of him.
Phoenix Wright did not deserve his sympathy.
Phoenix Wright had made his own decisions and, like every other murderer Miles had put away, he would pay for his actions in kind.
Miles stood up.
Miles sat back down, his head spinning, chest aching, ears ringing. He sat stiff in his chair, perfect posture, trained posture as the ache in his chest spread to his head when finally, shakily, he began to curl up, eyes squeezing shut.
This wasn't his fault.
Just because he knew Phoenix Wright when they were children-
That had nothing to do with this.
Nothing.
And whatever Phoenix Wright had become wasn't relevant to him; it was only relevant to the case.
Yes, right.
The case.
He gathered himself, his hands falling from his ears to the files on the table.
The case.
He would prosecute the case. He could plan out everything he would say to Phoenix Wright in advance. He would not soften, and he would not let the man off the hook.
Miles would make Phoenix Wright pay.
_________________________
When Miles walked, he noticed Phoenix Wright's eyes pinned to him, like he was a butterfly on a board. For a moment, a fragment of a tenth of a second, he froze.
And then kept walking, pulling up the script in his mind.
“Prosecutor Edgeworth…” He tried for an awkward smile but Miles cut him down before it could come to fruition.
“I received a call from the public prosecutor's office yesterday.”
The man looked confused. He probably was confused. Perhaps he hadn't seen White from his angle, or thought he had already been successfully threatened.
Miles continued, cold and emotionless, reading straight from the script, not even looking at Phoenix Wright but slightly past him, “He told me that whatever Mr. White says today, it will be the "absolute truth." No matter how you try to attack his testimony... If I raise an objection, I have it on good faith that the judge will listen to me.”
Phoenix Wright's expression dropped somewhere between anger and… something else. Miles didn't delve too deeply. It didn't matter.
“So... you're saying I'm going to be guilty. End of story?
He frowned at Miles, as if Miles was the one wronging him. He was hunched over a little bit, as if Miles's coldness was physically painful.
Miles's lips tugged even further downwards than usual, “... I will do anything to get my verdict, Mr. Wright. Anything.”
The girl piped up in defense of the man who murdered her sister, then tried to frame her, “Why... Why!? How can you torment an innocent person like this!?”
Miles almost scoffed, but he accidentally looked at Phoenix Wright, the man's eyes shining with disappointment.
… What right did he have to be disappointed?
Miles turned away, gripping his arm to hide the shaking, “Innocent…?” He looked back up, assiduously looking between Phoenix Wright's eyes and not into them, “How can we know that? The guilty will always lie, to avoid being found out. There's no way to tell who is guilty and who is innocent! All that I can hope to do is get every defendant declared "guilty"! So I make that my policy.”
He saw Phoenix Wright's jaw tense in his peripherals, his eyebrows furrowed, “Edgeworth... You've changed.”
The tone of his voice was so heavy Miles felt crushed by it, like something small and alive inside of him had been grabbed and shaken and shoved into his throat.
The girl said something Miles barely heard while he tried to breathe.
Finally, words came out, “Don't expect any special treatment, Phoenix Wright.”
Miles would follow this through to the end. Phoenix Wright was no different from all the other scum of the earth who saw themselves fit to take a life.
__________________________
Phoenix Wright was slippery like an eel, making assumptions and poking holes into White's testimony. Though… Miles had to concede that it was… an odd testimony.
Much like April May, it was… Inconsistent.
Miles tried to pull for a break, Phoenix Wright was confusing the witness far too much, confusing him into messing up his testimony. Even confusing Miles-
Miles shook his head, there would be no allowing himself to be swayed by Phoenix Wright's devious tricks.
The nonsense with the glass light stand… Anyone could have seen it before Mia Fey was murdered. Especially if they had placed the wiretap (which was unethical but that was neither here nor there and not related to the murder at hand).
Regardless.
“You fought… Honorably,” murderer as he may be, his skill as a lawyer, especially a new one, was undeniable. He had been taught well. It was too bad he bit the hand that fed.
But, for his efforts, Miles could allow a short break. So the man could collect himself before the final verdict was declared. Phoenix Wright deserved at least that much dignity.
Even to the end he was trying to turn the tide.
Even on the tiniest, slightest off-chance-
“I say... let us give Mr. Phoenix Wright his "last chance.””
As Miles had feared, there was not enough evidence against Phoenix Wright, only White's testimony, which sounded like nonsense to everyone in court the more Wright pressed.
Miles needed another day; while there was minimal proof Phoenix Wright was guilty, there was also nothing that proved him innocent. His fingerprints were all over everything. He had about as much motive as the first defendant. If he wasn't found guilty now, he could never be tried again.
He had gotten the judge to agree, and all Phoenix Wright had was some kind of note. If he hadn't presented it until now, it couldn't be-
What the hell.
What just happened.
A list of names, Miles recognized some of them, and all of a sudden Redd White was sweating and shaking and begging at the witness stand.
All of a sudden, Redd White was confessing to the murder of Mia Fey and the trial was over.
It was over.
Redd White was guilty and Phoenix Wright was innocent.
Redd White had abused his power to frame Phoenix Wright for the murder he had committed, likely to hide whatever secret his in the list Phoenix Wright had read.
Miles kept sitting in the courtroom long after Phoenix Wright had left.
Every word he had said from last night to just now replayed ruthlessly inside his head. The way Wright had looked at him when he said Miles had ‘changed’.
Disappointment. He had thought more highly of Miles than he deserved.
Miles wanted to take a sip of water but his hand wouldn't move, so he just stared at it, Wright's face reflecting in the glass.
“You've changed”
“You've changed”
“You've-”
“Mr Edgeworth, sir?” Miles broke away and looked up at Gumshoe, “Are you alright?”
Miles heaved a shaky sigh, running his hand through his hair, “Just fine, Gumshoe.”
“Bad luck about the trial, huh? Who would've thought it was this guy who didn't even show up until the last day?”
Wright did, probably. There had to be a reason White chose to target him.
“We received false testimony, that's all. The guilty will always lie to hide their crimes.”
“You're right pal-” Miles narrowed his eyes, “Sir, my bad. He sure was a good liar, though.”
Miles stared at Gumshoe for at least ten straight seconds, looking for any trace of irony or sarcasm, before finally saying, “... Yes, Gumshoe, he was a liar.”
And then he was finally able to get up and leave.
There was him, and there was the body that was moving. The disconnect between them made the world feel slightly unreal. As if the conversations around him weren't words but poorly made music.
“Oh my God, Nick!”
He stopped.
“It's not a big deal, Maya. Don't worry abou-”
“How can I not be worried? You might have broken ribs or something!”
Wright laughed awkwardly, probably scratching his head guilelessly as he usually did.
Miles edged closer to them. He wasn't… Eavesdropping. He was… Showing prosecutorial concern.
“They're not broken, I promise. It's just a few bruises. They'll go away soon, anyway.”
Bruises?
“They looked pretty bad. Let me see them.”
“Maya, I don't think that's appropria-”
“Or else I'm gonna call Gumshoe and tell him that Redd White assaulted you.”
?
!
Miles peeked around the edge of the doorway as Wright muttered “... Fine,” with great reluctance.
He lifted his shirt, showing several large, purple-black bruises, clearly from a beating of some kind.
Back when they were talking before the trial. He hadn't been hunched over because of Miles. It had nothing to do with Miles. It was because he had been assaulted by a man who cheated the legal system to destroy his life forever. Even if Wright had escaped death row, he would never be able to be a lawyer again, even if he was found innocent in a later trial.
“You need to go to the hospital, Nick. Just to make sure.”
“I'm telling you, it's fine. I've gotten bruises worse than this, it really isn't a big deal, especially when he's going to jail for murder anyway.”
On the one hand, Wright was right. The man was already going to jail for murder. Assault was a drop in the bucket. On the other hand, White was wealthy, with influence both in and outside prison. It was possible, even likely, that he would end up in a cushy cell with friendly guards and an easy work rota, if he was made to work at all. He probably wouldn't be given the death penalty, and given the powerful people he knew, he would be able to angle for early release on good behavior.
It wasn't just.
And Miles Edgeworth was a just man.
All it took was one enemy that Redd White had put in prison. And there were many.
All Miles had to do was ensure they ended up in the same cell.
Miles would ensure the legal system worked as intended, no matter how White attempted to manipulate it.