The Practice
Poor Richard's Almanac

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Ragdoll: C- | Grade It Now!
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Evil comes out on top

Mike says the intended victim was Michael Biggs. When Detective Mike and the rest of his band of Merry Men arrived at the scene, Biggs was facedown in front of his building, as dead as a doornail. Whatever that means. Richard asks if Mike was able to ascertain the direction of the shooter. Of course, Mike says the shooter came from the other side of the street and opened fire. The detective also mentions that stray bullets were found in the building and in various parked cars. Why do they consider Biggs the intended victim? Detective Mike: “We found him lying facedown. He’d been shot six times: twice in the legs, three in the chest and once in the head at very close range.” Richard leads Mike on by asking how he knew Biggs was shot at close range. Well, if you must know, there were stippling burns on his head and neck, meaning the gun could have only been six inches away. Mike: “We considered it an execution.” Cut to Bobby’s cross, where he does that smarty-pants “I’m asking but I’m really telling” lawyering: “You didn’t find a gun at the crime scene, did you?” No. There were no fingerprints either? Correct. Bobby brings up the fact that Biggs was a convicted drug dealer. Then he says, “That’s a dangerous business, isn’t it, Detective.” Mike snarls, “Ask your client.” The Emperor objects. He’s horrified that anyone other than his wife should use such a tone with His Majesty. The judge points the Detective back on course. Bobby “Who Wants To Be A Rodinaire” Donnell looks pleased with himself and continues, “After the shooting, did they find my client anywhere in the neighbourhood?” Mike says, “No.” Fact is, Jackie grabbed his gear and turned himself in, isn’t that correct? Mike says they’d already searched Jackie’s house and his bar, so “he knew [they] were going to make an arrest.” A-ha! That’s exactly Bobby’s point. Mike falls directly into the Emperor’s trap: why would a guilty man, who had three days to leave the city, the state, the country, walk into the precinct and answer questions? Richard looks sullen. His ears are glowing, and that’s never a good sign.

Outside The Courthouse Of Jackular Pain. A dopey tall guy asks Richard, who is standing beside Helen, if he’ll “be up there long.” Nope, but Richard explains the procedure (don’t they have offices for this sort of thing?) and tells Dopey Witness that he’ll have to point to Jackie in open court. Helen interjects to explain that the defense may keep him for a while because he’s their entire case. Rod and Ellenor are going to do everything they can to tear him apart. It’ll take a lot, too -- this guy’s huge, like, Viking huge, and instead of "Mr. Ross," and I’m going to call him Guy the Viking. Guy the Viking quivers a bit in fear of the proceedings. Helen and Richard offer him up four shoulders of support. My cat is back beside me. She left for a minute to catch her breath. Or take a nap. Mmmm. Nap. As Richard sees Bobby approaching, he taps Guy the Viking on the arm and says, “We’ll see you tomorrow.” Bobby’s shoes snap along the hallway. He looks over toward the witness and asks, “He’s not in protective custody?” Good giveaway, counselor. Richard, whip-smart and candy-assed, wonders why Guy the Viking should even be in protective custody. Bobby thought that all witnesses for big cases were kept in protective custody. Helen responds by stating the obvious: “This is a murder case.” The Emperor still thinks they should be keeping an eye on him. A light bulb miraculously appears over Richard’s head. I think that's what’s lighting his ears up. “What are you saying?” Bobby says, “Nothing.” The Polka Of Protective Witnesses trills for a moment. Apparently, Bobby’s “radar” says to “protect your witness.” With that, a giant helicopter flies over the courthouse, doctors and nurses jump furiously into action, and a couple of fake lawyers wonder what to do with the information that hasn’t been given to them. See, I think they’re “reading between the lines.” This DEK, he leaves nothing to chance.

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The Practice

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