Chapter Text
June 17th 2004, 3:45 pm
Koblya, Leipa & Pirkstein Law Offices
Mr. Hans Capon-Pirkstein Esq., sits in his well appointed office at the Kobyla , Leipa & Pirkstein law firm, halfmindedly playing with the defence attorney badge pinned to the lapel of his expensive suit, filling up pointless paperwork, bored out of his skull.
He was going to finish this one document, then go to the lobby of the nearby hotel, grab a drink and maybe one of the beautiful women he knows frequent the establishment. A hot spot for the law's elite, the drinks were expensive and the company pleasant. Better than to rot here for another hour today. Not like anyone would notice or care as to whether or not if the documents were finished today.
He had but half a page left to go when there is a soft knock at his door, Father Godwin entering shortly after. Hans' friend and liaison at the public defender's office, he is also close to most of the firm's senior partners, having once been fairly well known in law. And surprisingly pleasant company for a night out. The man drank like a champion, and had stories about everything. He was also a hit with the ladies, which Hans admittedly did not fully comprehend, but respected highly.
"Ah! Young Capon! Glad I could catch you still at the office! Half expected to find you well in your cups." The older man jokes with a smile.
"Listening to my uncle go about it, I probably should be! Really give him something to complain about." Other than his low test score taking the bar, his low case victory rate and the exorbitant sums he spends on wine, women and anything else that strikes his fancy. Uncle Hanush truly excelled at pointing out his every flaws.
Hans walks up to Godwin , giving him a warm handshake. "Have you come to rescue me from this mountain of busy work?" He eyes a folder in the man's other hand. "Or have you come just to add to my misery? Because I swear, if I have to take another child custody battle case, I think I will drown myself."
Very little felt worse than having to watch a family tear itself apart.
Godwin chuckled lightly. "That will be up to you, I suppose. But I am praying for the former." He says, handing Hans the folder.
STATE v.s. MILLER
A) Court Record.
Defendant: Theresa Miller, age 28.
Charges: Arson, Murder
Location: Prosecutor Istvan Toth's office
Victim: Keldehad Cuman , age 35, cause of death still under investigation. Estimated time of death on June 15th 2004, between 10:30pm and 11:30 pm. Preliminary autopsy report lists 2 stab wounds in the chest from large metallic weapons, as well as intensive burns all over the body.
A fire started at approximately 11pm in the office of Prosecutor Istvan Toth and spread rapidly through the building. Witnesses saw the smoke and called the authorities. A witness found the suspect in the burning building 's lobby, unconscious, a bloody sword in hand. Her clothing smelled of gasoline, and matches were found on her person.
The suspect was brought into medical care on location, confirmed to have suffered from smoke inhalation, as well as bruises and lacerations on her hands and left flank, and arrested at once by the authorities.
B) Sword
Slightly curved blade. The blade is covered in the victim's blood. The defendant's fingerprints are on the handle.
C) Matches
A box of ordinary matches. Found on the defendant on the night of the crime.
D) Jacket
Belongs to the defendant. Black in color, it smells strongly of gasoline, and smoke.
Hans scans the documents, his attention caught immediately by the charges. This is a much bigger case than what Godwin usually brings him. It's also very much a losing case. The preliminary evidence alone is incredibly damning, and that's without counting whatever the hell the prosecutor would have up their sleeve. Toth is one of their own. Whomever would prosecute this is going to be out for blood. And, as if the situation wasn't dire enough, the trial is scheduled to start in less than a day.
It's a fucking impossible task.
"Thought it might catch your interest."
"Yeah yeah, I'm real excited." Hans's voice drips with sarcasm. "This is a losing case, you know that right? Have you spoken with the girl?" Hans asks him as he throws the folder along with other documents and his things in his suitcase.
"Young woman." Godwin corrects him with a look to remind Hans that he knows perfectly well the defendant and himself are just about the same age. "And yes, I have. She's a clever and level headed young woman, Capon. I don't believe she did this."
"Of course, because clever and level headed young women can't do arson. Or murder, apparently."
"Go talk to her yourself, you'll see. Plus, she is quite easy on the eyes." Godwin gives him a wink that borders on sleazy.
Hans doesn't need to take another look at the court record's picture of the defendant. Theresa Miller was a rather plain looking brunette with a strong nose.
"I've seen worse, it's true… but I don't come to the office to find dates, Godwin. I go to the bar for that. The women there are even prettier for one. They also come with a lot less… complications."
"She could really use your help." The Father adds, placing a gentle hand on Hans' arm.
The woman needs all the help she can get, clearly. Even that might not be enough. A miracle was more what would be needed to win this case.
But! if he could manage it… surely that would show his mettle to the senior partners, show his uncle he could be trusted with the big cases. Maybe then he'd finally feel like he belonged in this damned office.
He takes a deep breath, bracing himself.
Audentes Fortuna Iuvat
"I realize that, Godwin. If nothing else, I may at least be able to get her a lighter sentence. Now get out of here! If I leave now I can still make it to the detention center with some time to spare."
The drive to the detention center takes very little time, Hans' Porsche zooming through the traffic, allegedly faster than might be legal. Not like he can't afford the fine anyways. He has less than an hour before visiting hours close, and something tells him he'll need every minute with his client he can get.
June 27th, 2004, 4:15pm
Bohemia P.D. Detention Center
Hans' shoes click expensively against the detention center floor, announcing his presence to the on duty policeman at the reception, whose bored looking expression fades the instant he recognizes the approaching lawyer.
"Mr. Capon, sir." The guard greets cautiously.
Hans may have a bit of a reputation with the local police. He had crafted it very carefully; a rich, influential and mercurial young lawyer, as likely to berate as to compliment. Ok, maybe a bit more likely to berate than compliment, but only because the station was filled with the idiotic and incompetent, and Hans could stand neither. They were also, well, cops.
Hans grabs the visitor's log, signing his name in a practiced flourish. He leaves the rest of the form empty. The guard can take care of it.
"Here to see Ms. Miller, on behalf of the Public defender's office." He states simply, waiting for the receptionist to give him the room number his client was waiting in.
"Visiting hours are almost over. Sir."
"I'm well aware, Officer." Hans replies, disdain dripping from the last word. He makes a point of looking at his Rolex, a gold plated monstrosity worth more than the man make over a year. "Just as I'm aware there are still 45 minutes left, precious time I would prefer using to speak to my client before her trial tomorrow. Unless you'd prefer I call Judge Jobst. I'm sure he'll be very happy to talk to you about wasting both our time."
"N-no sir, that won't be necessary, sir." The guard finally has the good sense of looking contrite. "The suspect is in interrogation room 2B."
At last! Hans thinks, walking away at a determined pace.
"… Your collegue's already in there." The guard adds, words nearly stopping Hans in his tracks.
The firm never sent more than one lawyer on these charity cases. The public defender's office was too busy to assign more than one lawyer per case, and the clients that came to them did so because they couldn't afford or find anyone else.
So who the hell is his client talking to?!
Hans does not run to interrogation room 2B. That would be undignified.
But it's a close thing.
Hans bursts into interrogation room 2B like the wrath of God, startling both his client and the man she was talking to.
"Not one word more, Ms. Miller! I don't know who this man is pretending to be but he is NOT your lawyer!"
Theresa Miller's picture did not her justice, failing to properly capture the sharp intelligence of her gaze or the elegance of her nose. She is, as Godwin had put it, easy on the eye, in a way that went beyond the modern idea of beauty. And in spite of how tired the young woman clearly is.
The man sitting in front of her is dark haired, with wide shoulders trapped in a cheap ill-fitting black suit that is at least two sizes too small and two decades out of fashion. He turns to face Hans, deep-set blue eyes framed by a handsome face that goes from shocked to baffled to downright angry in a few seconds.
"Capon?!"
Henry Smith stands out of his chair, knocking it over in the process, and Hans is stunned by the weight of the memories that assault him at once.