Everybody knew my client never had a chance in life with Mr. Gyre Ghent, and that's why everyone assumed my client murdered Mr. Ghent when he didn't – meaning that Mr. Ghent was going to be dead and still ruin my client's life if I didn't step in.
But see, I'm a good lawyer, and if you are my client, I start taking care of you even before you know you need me.
The law firm I built is the best in the west, and the east, north, and south too. I had retired about a year before this whole thing came up, but just because people know who I am, they knew they could not play with me in court even though I didn't use my firm. It's under new management, and doesn't need the drama. I did my own leg work. No need to spare extra energy for after this. It was my last case.
It turns out that Mr. Ghent had about fifty-eleven different people wanting to kill him – just a horrible person over decades, just selecting people to lure into his web of pretending to care just to eat them alive. The prosecution could hardly get a jury in this town because of this; everybody over 35 already knew somebody who knew somebody Gyre Ghent had broken just for his fun. At this point he was just picking off the young newbies in town, and my client was the ideal victim – adopted, knowing his biological family was from around here, and coming here desperate to know the truth – but also out of money, having had a nervous breakdown when he found out everything he thought he knew wasn't so. Mr. Ghent put the web out. The thing was, sometimes a spider catches a big wasp, and then it becomes a fight to the finish.
My client fought back more than anyone from around here, knowing Mr. Ghent's connections, would have. The young man isn't a killer, though – he comes by the temper naturally, but there's no killer in him. He got mad and cussed Mr. Ghent out and let him know he was going to get some justice no matter what, but he was sitting at the jail and not trying to slap the flies that are so prevalent in the summer here, just waving them away. There's no guile in him, no cunning, no violence. He's just trying to get to the truth about his life and find out who he is. I made sure to tell him a bunch of times that he is already who he is and he doesn't have to be looking for that around here. I was just trying to get him prepared because the truth hurts.
Legal discovery is a terrible thing sometimes. The prosecution dug up some deep dirt to try to prove its case in terms of motive, and dug up the fact that Gyre Ghent was, in fact, this young man's father. But this also became the prosecution's fatal flaw, because they couldn't prove my client knew it in advance. It didn't hurt that my client passed out on the floor at the thought. I would too. In fact, I almost did when I found out – but I'll get back to that later.
In order to prove a murder, it has to be beyond a reasonable doubt. I tore the prosecution up on that to the point that Mr. Worthy was chuckling a little bit on Friday on the way out of court.
“I guess I gotta start looking at the other umpteenth people that had to want to kill Mr. Ghent next week,” he kidded me.
“Oh, I'm going to one-up Perry Mason and Matlock for you,” I said. “You'll have that information next week, too.”
“Look, Mr. Mort – that's fiction – you can't out-drama that!”
“Never tell me what I can't do at the end of my career,” I said. “I guarantee you that you are going to see something you have never seen in court, and your mouth is going to fall open and these flies are going to tour your mouth.”
“Mort – give me a break!”
Mr. Worthy has known me forty years. He still didn't believe, but after all, he didn't need to believe in the facts, because the facts are just the facts.
The jury came back on Monday and found my client not guilty. He hugged me and thanked me, as did his adoptive parents and siblings and friends before they started hugging and crying with each other. They all came to be there with him, and it was a beautiful moment to let go as long as possible.
Mr. Worthy came over to shake my hand, knowing this was my last case, and I shook it – and then sat back down.
“You're in the wrong chair!” my client and Mr. Worthy said at the same time.
“Nope,” I said. “There are four things you both need to know. First, young Mr. Nouveau, you see here that your family is all around you – the family that chose you and raised you well when half your own family was no good and your other half was either as taken by surprise and as helpless as you were by how evil Mr. Ghent is, or even worse. Focus on the fact that you are blessed beyond measure to have been adopted to a loving, wholesome family. Your name is Adam Nouveau – lean into it.”
“Second, as for your search for your biological family, that's done too. You only have one living relative, and that's me: I'm your biological grandfather.”
Mr. Nouveau and Mr. Worthy's mouths fell open, but the flies that had made their way in when the jury went out and that back door didn't shut – again – hadn't gotten into Mr. Worthy's mouth yet, so I wasn't done.
“Third, grandson, I'm dying of cancer. I came back to work to make sure your wicked biological father didn't cash you in a second time. Your mother died in childbirth with you, and he literally had you put up for sale to an unscrupulous adoption agency. But one of the people there knew who I was, and got you out of there to a proper agency where the Nouveaus found you and adopted you properly. In my suitcase, I have copies for you of all the documents I could find about that, and also a notarized copy of my will and trust. I sold my law firm a year ago. You're my heir, and you will officially be set for life in about three months.”
“Grandfather … you're my grandfather … but you can't just leave me … I just found you!” my grandson said.
“Save your tears, boy, and go live your real life with your real family, away from this wicked town and its wicked people,” I said gently. “You're the only decent man my family ever produced – go stay decent, far from me, far from here. I'm not better than Gyre Ghent. See, I've gotten men who did the crimes they are accused of, off; I let a lot of Gyre Ghents get back out there in the streets. We who enable them are as bad as they are. But you were innocent, and I knew that, so giving you your life back – saving you when I couldn't save my daughter, your mother – is the least I could do before I die, and by the way, I did the job completely. I killed Gyre Ghent, and believe me that it was murder in the first degree.”
Mr. Worthy fell out, mouth still open, flies with full and complete access. My grandson fell back into the arms of his adoptive family, and they got him out of there. I sat down and wrote out my confession, left it for Mr. Worthy, and went back to hospice at home. I gave the documents for my grandson to my estate lawyer to take care of with my executor; they will mail it all out in due time.
Case closed. My work in this world is done.