EPT“Let me remind you again, Epishade. You are defending your client, Mr. Jeff, against murder, not cheap sex with a floozy.” Candy Ho threw a fit upon hearing this obviously baseless remark and stormed out of the courtroom in her high-heels and miniskirt. I could see her friends Chastity and Crystal join her from the gallery. Having just lost half our audience from this walkout, I continued my defense.
“I would now like to call up to the witness stand, José, your honor.” Judge Roberts nodded and motioned for José to take the stand. I started ruthlessly questioning José about the night of the murder.
“José,” I said. “My client is innocent, right?”
“¿...Qué?” He said. I turned to the typographer.
“Let it be noted that the witness expressed agreement with my previous statement via shortened use of the word, ‘OK.’” I turned back to Judge Roberts. “No further questions, your honor.” I went back to my seat and looked at the few remaining members in the gallery before striking up a loud conversation with one of them.
“Why, immigrations officer Foster!” I exclaimed. “I didn’t know you’d show up today!” The 19 year old boy I was talking to slumped down in his seat. José panicked and, like Candy Ho, fled from the witness stand before being cross-examined by the prosecution.
The prosecution, fed up with my shenanigans at this point, decided to use their secret weapon: a video recording of my client “committing murder.” The prosecutor grabbed his briefcase and pulled out the tape. My client took a deep breath.
“I hope this works,” he whispered to me.
“Members of the jury,” Prosecutor Jones said. “This tape I’m about to play before you depicts the defendant, Mr. Jeff, brutally stabbing and then EATING one of his many victims.” Some of the jury members moaned. “Please be warned that this is grotesque.” Jones put the tape in the television.
Illuminated on the screen was the video that Mr. Jeff and I filmed of him eating a fancy steak dinner. The ol’ briefcase switcheroo worked like a charm. I immediately stood up and yelled at the prosecution for wasting the jury’s time with this.
“Mr. Jones,” I said. “I’ll have you know that we do NOT screw around in this courtroom. This incredibly heinous accusation you've made before the jury carries considerable weight regarding their final verdict!” I woke Judge Roberts from his powernap, whom promptly had Jones forcibly kicked out of the courtroom.
With no prosecution left, the jury withdrew to deliberate in the backroom, where, no doubt, they found the two 6-packs of beer I left for them on the table. They came back a half-hour later with the verdict: Not guilty.
