Sunderance 28: The Scales and the Sword Part 2 (Patreon)

“You never know if a case is won, until the judgement has been passed and the gavel falls. So, no matter how well you think things are going, always push forward. Always give that one piece of evidence; call the unneeded witness; present one more fact. Do this until you see in the eyes of everyone in the courtroom that you’ve won.”

“And then push a little more.”

The elderly elk stag that sat in the witness box now had given his testimony, for all intents. The forensic evidence was dry, as she had known it would be, but it was important for the appeal. The forensic results themselves were important, but only so much as it led to a certain conclusion when looked at beyond what it corroborated from the police report.

“In the autopsy report, it states that the cause of death was a single stab wound that pierced the heart. How often are you asked for your personal opinion, Doctor Pricket?” she asked, standing in the middle of the court with a manila folder open in her paws. “Excuse me, let me rephrase that. How often are you asked to remember your past experiences as a witness?”

“Quite often,” was the curt reply, a tone that he had kept through the entire questioning. Not out of rudeness, she knew. He had been a very cooperative witness, he was simply a mammal used to giving nothing but the facts when on the stand.

“Then let me ask you just a few more questions, if I could,” she said, stepping up the set of stairs that allowed her access to the witness on the stand. Once in front of the larger mammal, she opened the file that showed his own report beside an image of the stab wound in the otter’s chest. “Does this look like a wound made out of anger?”

“I’m not a criminal psychologist, so I wouldn’t be able to make that determination,” he replied, obviously dodging the question.

“I’m not asking for a psychological evaluation of the attacker, Doctor,” she said, putting on a smile for a moment before she tapped the photo. “We’ve both seen crimes of passion and rage. Is that what you see here?”

There was a pause, during which the doctor lowered his eyes to the photo again with all of the dispassion one would have expected from someone who had seem more death than most mammals could understand or ever want to see in a lifetime. His brows furrowed for a moment, before he shook his head in the negative.

“No, that’s not what I see here.”

“Can you explain why?” she asked, feeling that tiny thrill she always got when a witness followed her line of questioning.

“There is no additional damage beyond the stab wound itself,” he replied, and when she kept her eyes on him as if waiting for more, he took the hint and continued. “Usually in a crime that comes from anger, it’s a surprise. The victim will often fall into the attacker, or struggle with them. This causes additional lacerations, as the knife moves within the wound. Most wouldn’t notice this because on the outside - the damage is minor - but, on the inside, it is often more significant.”

“So, in your expert opinion, there was no noticeable additional physical trauma that one would normally see in a case of rage or passion?”

“That is correct,” he confirmed, giving another of his short nods to affirm the statement.

“So, how would you hypothesize a wound like this was created?” she asked, keeping the folder open for him to take another look if it was needed. It was not needed, as he didn’t bother to give the evidence another look before he replied.

“This kind of wound would seem to suggest that the murderer stabbed the victim once, and immediately withdrew the knife.”

“I’ve seen the public transcripts of the previous trial,” she said as she closed the folder and made her way down the stairs again, towards the table where Otterton sat watching. She could see, for the first time since it had all started, that he was really paying attention now. She understood. He wasn’t just going to be satisfied if he was cleared of the crime. He was going to want to know who had really done it, and why. She set the folder on the desk as she turned back to the witness box. “This never came to light. Can you explain why?”

“I was never asked,” he said simply, which sparked as series of short lived murmurs from the court, murmurs that quickly died down when the Chief Justice banged her gavel in a call for silence.

“I just have two more questions for you, if you don’t mind,” she continued, doing her best to look apologetic. It never hurt to be on the good side of the witness, after all. “First: in an attack like that, where the knife is plunged into the heart between two ribs without any extra external or internal damage, only to be withdrawn quickly, would you say that the intention was purely to kill?”

“In the scenario you describe, the quickest way to kill the victim would have been to withdraw the knife, yes,” was his reply, and she was pleased when he continued of his own accord. “Not all wounds to the heart are fatal, most often in cases where the object that has penetrated the heart is not removed. This restricts the flow of blood and slows the rate at which the victim would bleed. By removing the blade after the heart was damaged, the flow of blood was not restricted, and the victim had maybe a few seconds before loss of consciousness and less than a minute before death.”

His giving data of that sort without prompted told her that he was either feeling that he was actually getting to do his job in this case, or he was feeling that the case itself had more merit this time. She had to restrain her desire to press him further, because his testimony to this point had been on point.

“I see. And my second question,” she began, waving one paw towards Mr. Otterton as she stepped aside to let the witness see the accused. “In your expert opinion, would someone with no history of violence of any kind be able to inflict the wound described so cleanly?”

“In my line of work, you learn that anything is possible,” was his reply, though before she could press the question further, he continued on his own. “However, given all of the factors, it is extremely unlikely.”

And that would have to be good enough, though given the softer buzz from the gallery it may well have had the effect she was looking for.

“Thank you, Doctor Pricket. You’ve managed to clear up quite a bit,” she said, giving him a courteous nod before she turned her eyes up to Bellwether. “I have nothing further for this witness, Your Honor.”

“Very well,” the sheep in black robes replied, looking down at the fox behind the prosecution desk. “Your witness.”

“No questions for this witness, Your Honor,” the fox said, half rising from his chair with a brief, nervous nod of his head before he dropped down into the seat again.

This caused Judy to frown slightly as she looked over at her counterpart even as the Chief Justice rose one eyebrow over the rim of her glasses. The lack of an opening statement had been surprising in itself, but no cross examination of such an important witness was extremely odd in a case like this. Bellwether clearly thought the same as she folded her hooves in front of her and leaned forward slightly while looking down at the fox.

“Do you intend to sit there and watch as you lose this case, Mr. Corsac?”

“Oh! No, of course not, Your Honor,” he said, fully rising from his seat this time with his ears pinned back against his skull. Judy quickly got the impression that he was fresh out of law school, given how quick he was to snap to attention and his obvious lack of experience. Either that, or he was waiting for the right moment to strike. “I just have no questions for this witness.”

“I understand,” she said, clearly not convinced. And she then showed how unconvinced she was when she continued, “But I need you to understand, Mr. Corsac, that you are expected to do your job in this courtroom. Everything in a courtroom has a place, and your place now is to act as State Prosecutor. If you cannot do that, you will either step down or I will see to it that the Review Board carefully examines your future in law. Are we clear?”

“Of course, Your Honor,” he said, looking a little white around the nose and the insides of his ears as he was dismissed. Judy tried her best not to feel pity for the male as he dropped down into his seat again with slumped shoulders, looking as if he simply wanted to vanish in that moment. She knew that feeling, herself, after being rebuked by a judge or two.

Much less the Chief Justice of Zootopia.

“Thank you, Doctor Pricket, you may step down,” the sheep said, giving the male a nod as he excused himself from the witness stand with the same self-assured regality with which he had taken it. “Defense, you may call your next witness.”

“I would like to call a character witness, Your Honor,” Judy replied, receiving a curt nod in acceptance of that as she walked over to the witness stand. “In accordance with the Advanced Technology Act, Article Thirty, Paragraph Sixteen, this witness has agreed to appear via holographic imaging since he was unable to appear in court in person.”

“Accepted,” Bellwether replied, looking down at the terminal interface installed in her bench for a moment, sliding her hoof over the screen until the name of the witness came into view. From where she stood Judy could have sworn, for just a moment, that the stern face of the Chief Justice softened just a bit before the court’s holographic system hummed to life.

“I call Mayor Leodore Lionheart to the stand,” Judy said, as the faintly glowing image of the large lion in the witness box, wearing his ever present, neatly pressed suit and a smile that never seemed to fade when he was in the public eye.

“Am I on?” he asked immediately, turning his eyes around the courtroom for a moment before they settled on the Chief Justice. His often perceived as fake smile softened, at least in Judy’s eyes, for a moment before he turned to look forward until his gaze rested on Judy. “Ah, Miss Hopps! It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Mayor Lionheart,” Bellwether interrupted, her tone as terse and controlled as it had been since the trial had started, “I appreciate you taking the time to appear in court, but I will remind you that you are now in court and must behave accordingly.”

“Of course,” he said instantly, not losing the amiable tone to his voice though he the twitch of his holographic ears showed that he was properly chastened. It was enough to make Judy produce an actual smile as she moved towards the witness stand as the bailiff swore the lion in.

“Do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth or face charges of perjury under the laws of Zootopia?”

“I do, of course,” Lionheart replied, sitting down once he was sworn in. Of course, he was really sitting in a chair in his own office in City Hall, but how closely it leveled out with the chair in the witness box was almost hauntingly accurate.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, too, Mr. Mayor,” Judy began, gaining a broad muzzled grin from the lion in reply to the simple pleasantry. “You know the accused, Emmett Otterton?”

“I met with him on one occasion, yes, though I knew who he was before that meeting took place.”

“And what was the subject of that meeting?”

“He wanted to discuss ways to improve species relations within Zootopia,” he replied, in what was perhaps the most professional tone she had ever heard from the boisterous, energetic, photo-op addicted male. “Specifically, relations between predator and prey.”

“Having spoken with Mr. Otterton himself, it was a little more focused than that,” Judy stated, walking back to the defense table and picking up a piece of paper. “His statement was that the primary subject of the conversation was the reunification of bunnies into Zootopia. Is that correct?”

“Ah,” the lion began, pausing for a moment as his brow wrinkled in thought. “Yes, yes I believe that’s right. He believed that relations between all predators and prey in Zootopia were strained because of the Bunny Ban Act, with the broad idea that some prey species with high populations might begin to wonder if they were next.”

“And what were your impressions of Mr. Otterton during this meeting?”

“He was very passionate about the idea,” he replied, eyes of reflected light shifting to the chained otter at the defense table for a moment before return to the bunny. “He had ideas. A lot of ideas, about how it could be introduced to the Council. Everything from a grand, instant reunification to a gradual work program that would allow those from the Commonwealth to enter the city over time and become citizens again.”

“Did he ever mention violence as an option?” she asked bluntly, watching as the lion’s ears twitched in surprise.

“No, of course not,” he replied, keeping the answer short since he had clearly not been expecting the question.

“At any time during the meeting,” she said as she walked the space between the defense table and the witness box, “was there even a small moment where you believed that Mr. Otterton was capable of using violence to get what he wanted?”

“Violence of any kind never came into the conversation at all.”

“Did the subject of Mrs. Otterton come up?”

“Well, yes,” he replied, folding his paws together in front of his chest as he seemed to lean back in the witness box to get more comfortable. No one seemed to notice that the back of the witness box passed through his chest as he did this. “General conversation, you know. Pleasantries: I hear you’re married, how is your wife, and things of that nature.”

“If you could tell us what your impression was?”

“He smiled when he answered the question. His whiskers twitched too, embarrassed I think.” The lion paused for a moment, seeming to consider before he elaborated. “I think I intimidated him at first, and the questions caught him by surprise.”

“Did anything in his reply hint at anger or distrust towards his wife?”

“Not that I noticed, no.”

“Do you think Emmett Otterton killed his wife?” she asked, causing the lion’s ears to drop back. No one was more surprised that her when she heard the voice coming from behind her.

“Uh… Objection, your honor,” said the fox as he rose from his seat and held up one paw. He looked almost frightened to have objected, like a school kid raising their hand to ask a hard question in class. “Mayor Lionheart did not take part in the trial that convicted the defendant, nor is he an expert in criminal law. So, his answer would be irrelevant.”

“Objection sustained,” Bellwether replied instantly, turning her eyes to Lionheart. “You will disregard that question, Mr. Mayor.”

She had not really expected the objection, though it did show that the prosecution was at least paying attention to the trial. But it did not deter her from the line of questioning, only changed the way she approached it.

“You said you knew of Mr. Otterton before the meeting took place, is that correct?” she began again.

“Yes,” he replied, his ears up again and his posture straighter now. “A lot of the mammals in Zootopia knew who Mr. Otterton was before the unpleasantness. It was one of the reasons I agreed to meet with him personally.”

“What did you know of him?”

“Well,” he began, taking a breath as he thought about his reply, “as the subject of the meeting would suggest, he was a well-known advocate for peaceful relations between species. He worked for various non-profit charities, volunteered his time to help the needy, spoke about the idea of peaceful protest. He grew so prolific over the years that he gained backing from various groups whose goals coincided with his own.”

“Would you say that everyone liked him?” she asked, stopping close to the witness box and looking up at the holographic Mayor.

“I would like to believe that most liked him,” he replied, though that obviously wasn’t the end of his answer as he shifted in his seat slightly. “But no one is loved by everyone.”

“There were, in fact,” Judy said, walking back to her side of the court and producing a folder which she held up towards the lion, “multiple groups that didn’t like Mr. Otterton at all. Open opposition, entire groups of mammals that spoke out against his pacifist methods, even death threats in response to his ideas about reunification. Someone even tried to fake a love child with a previously unknown female, who mysteriously disappeared shortly after the rumors were proven untrue. Did you know about those?”

“I was aware, yes.”

“And through all of that, did he ever change his ideals? Did he ever,” she said, waving the folder in front of her in a slow circle to emphasis her next words, “lash out? Try to incite violence against these groups? Approve of those who did?”

“I’ve never heard of him doing anything of the sort, no.”

“So, knowing all of this, that he remained a mammal of peace even under threats and defamation,” she said, placing the folder on the desk again before she turned to the witness and rephrased her previous question, “do you believe that Emmett Otterton was capable of murder?”

This time, there was no objection to the question. Sometimes, it was all about how things were presented. She had jumped the gun with the blunt question before but had used that mistake to set the stage for a return to what would be the most important answer Mayor Lionheart would give in this trial.

“No, I don’t,” was the answer he gave, his face stern and his voice certain as he gave it.

“Thank you for your time, Mayor Lionheart,” she said, feeling a little giddy for a moment as she gave him a small smile as she returned to her seat beside the otter. “I appreciate you taking the time to answer my questions today. I have no further questions, Your Honor.”

The Chief Justice gave a small nod of her head as she turned her eyes towards the fox, one brow quirking above her glasses again as she leveled a gaze at him.

“Prosecution, your witness.”