Proceedings

"You admit that you visited the plaintiff with the sole purpose of "messing with him" and that it was your intention to cause distress," the lawyer stated, and he nodded. "I do," the defendant responded, "with one correction." "Please," the lawyer encouraged, intrigued. "It cheapens my intent to say that I wanted to cause him only distress; my aim was to push him hard to the edge of sanity's cliff and see if he'd jump. I wanted to drive him mad." The courtroom erupted and had to be gaveled back into order. "And I wanted him to snap so that he'd come out of his poetic delusion and theatrical grief; I wanted him to have no other option than to admit he'd killed Lenore." "Your honor!" two or three people yelled and, this time, the gavel brought no immediate quiet. "You're saying ...," the lawyer began, and the bird nodded. "I am saying that, from the clifftop rookeries, we saw it all: the arguments about him getting a real job, her threats that she would tell her father the truth, and her suitcase packed as she trudged down the sea wall that fateful night to get away." "SILENCE!" the judge commanded the courtroom, simultaneously shushing the plaintiff's attorney's objection at the same time. "If you're still in disbelief that ravens can talk, well, this next bit might help," the defendant cawed lowly, moving his head back and forth (but never taking his eyes from the man across the room). "We have her things; the case broke on the bottom of the ocean and her baubles floated up. We loved Lenore and it was inconceivable that her ribbons and gems would be left and lost to the sea. You can test them if you like. Then I can point you to where we believe the body rests; we have a unique, aerial view of the scene." The poet glared at him, the fires of Hell lit in his eyes, and the raven leaned its breast upon the carved edge of the witness box and screamed, "Nevermore!"