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“Oh, and by the way, please inform your boss that if he ever finds my services a bit out of his price range, especially when his ‘company’ is in so much hot water, I’d be willing to work a… compromise. Or two, depending on what the both of you are willing to sacrifice to get this case over within record time.”
Dear lord, Diavolo could practically feel Brando eyeing Doppio down through the phone, licking the tacky green lipstick of his and grinning like the maniacal fool he was.
“A… f-favor, Signore?”
Convinced Doppio was unaware what that sleazy lawyer had been insinuating, Diavolo tore the phone away from Doppio's hand through King Crimson, placing the device barely a centimeter from the stand's face before he proceeded to shout into the receiver at the highest volume he could muster.
"I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times! Passione possesses more than enough funds to pay for your services and there won't be any need for anyone, including myself, to provide any special favors as an alternative means of payment! FURTHERMORE, I do not appreciate you telling people that I am paying you to 'get me off' as I can acknowledge it is an accurate term for getting myself acquitted in court, you are very much aware of how that term is used with the general public and I will not stand for being made of mockery of. Do I make myself clear?"
"But—"
"AND KEEP YOUR DAMNED SON AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER!"
The stand then chucked the cellular device down onto the pavement and slammed a heel down onto the remains to ensure its total destruction and for some level of catharsis to be found in transposing the device for Brando's neck.
“My phone…” The Consigliere fell to his knees, sweeping the remains of the device that had scattered amongst their office carpet.
Diavolo rolled King Crimson’s eyes, falling to the ground next to him and picking up the stray pieces that had flung out of Doppio’s reach. “You have other phones, Doppio.”
“I know, but that one was my favorite model. I don’t even know where I could even find another phone that shade of green.”
With King Crimson’s arm, Diavolo lifted Doppio’s chin so he could look directly into his Consiglieres eyes. The ability to do so was always a rare moment between them as opportunities such as these were one’s the Don held quite dear to his heart.
“My dear Doppio, you have my word that once these court proceedings are done and over with. I promise to scour the phone market for a phone that outshines your previous one in every way.”
The Consigliere wiped his face with his sleeve.
“You really don’t have to…”
“I do. Now,” The two of them stood up in tandem with Diavolo pausing the order’s he was about to give in order to allow Doppio to free his hands for the notepad and pen the Don and procured from the table beside them. “Contact Murolo and get a list of the jury members who will be attending our trial. Then, I want you to have Tiziano and Squalo to scare, bribe, or do away with as many members of the jury you deem necessary to ensure we get that acquittal.”
“Of course Boss! But uh… isn’t the point of hiring Dio Brando as your lawyer because of his high track record of winning cases?”
“Two reasons. One: While you are not wrong, you know as well as I do that we need to be as prepared as possible for this trial as the prosecutor will stop at nothing to see us behind bars. It is better to play it safe than to leave everything up to a jury we don’t control.”
Doppio tapped the back of his pen against his bottom lip, eyes lost in thought. “And… what is the second thing?”
“There is not a shred of doubt in my mind that Brando will turn this unfortunate affair into a circus act and when that happens I will not sit idly by while Passione’s continued existence remains on the line all so Brando can bask in the spotlight of whatever fantasy that man thinks he’s front and center of!” King Crimson’s fist slammed against the deal. “If our prosecutor was anyone else, I’d have hired a lawyer that came with far fewer headaches. But, as you said, Brando’s record proves he’s more than capable of doing his job. When he wants to.”
The day of the trial was met with enough fanfare to last a century. Reporters were already swarming the steps of the courthouse, giving security a true battle of their lives as each person raced to get a statement from the CEO of one of the cities most prominent loan companies, now accused of not being directly responsible for the criminal activity within Diavolo’s company, but to be a criminal mastermind behind an entire crime syndicate as well!
A true scandal indeed, if the courts deemed it to be true.
Diavolo signaled for his driver to continue pushing the car through traffic, knowing full well that no matter where he and Trish, who sat disgruntled beside him, stepped out of the car, they were going to be bombarded by the cameras and shouting on all ends. Parking in front of the courthouse and challenging the crowd head on with the least amount of steps between the vehicle and the front doors was the best they were going to get. Sneaking in—worse still, getting caught sneaking in—was not something an innocent man would do, not with the way the media would spin it.
Before reaching the door and exciting their tinted window sanctuary, Diavolo let his hand linger on the door handle while thinking through the last of his preparations before heading inside. He had already sent a message notifying Dio to meet them by the entrance once they arrived, and with both parties ready to converge, all he had to do was make sure the both of them were able to get inside unscathed.
“Do not say anything to those leeches outside. Do you understand?”
“Whatever.”
The way Trish’s eyebrows rose and fell above her sunglasses gave away the eye roll Diavolo had received in tandem with her response. Trish held the same amount of desire to be in this situation as her father (which was next to none) and even with the scarf wrapped over her hair and the winter coat hiding her formal attire underneath, pinning down who she was next to Diavolo as they entered the courthouse was no challenge.
Unable to stall any longer, Diavolo swung the door open and stepped out into the crowd, cringing at the flashing lights and shouting that followed, quietly ushering his daughter close behind him as security kept the mob at bay.
“Are the allegations true?”
“Sir, is it true that you knew about the illegal substances being sold through your company’s network?”
“Is the mayor a part of this deadly scandal?”
“Ignore them and keep going.” Diavolo ordered under his breath, keeping Trish at his side as he took to the steps, only to be yanked back as one particular reporter dared to make contact with his daughter's wrist, preventing her from moving any further.
“Miss Una, how does it feel to know your father is responsible for the death of hundreds, if not thousands—”
“—Let go of me, you creep!”
Diavolo tightened his grip on Trish’s hand, about to raise another in preparation for striking this horrid reporter where he stood before a new voice overtook the crowd, bringing most of the clamor to a halt.
“Listen to the lady, or else you’ll be sued for harassment and minor assault against a minor. And I don’t know about you, but I’m positive a reporter doesn’t make nearly enough to fight those charges.”
Brando.
The weasel of a man immediately released his grip, backing off from Trish before Brando could even finish his sentence. With a new presence on the scene, many of the remaining reporters flocked to him instead, hoping he would be more receptive to their inquiries but ultimately finding nothing of value, as Diavolo’s attorney held the door for the father-daughter duo to rush inside without saying a single word. Familiar with how the game is played, Brando had given them nothing to work with, saving the greetings for the private room set up several doors down from the courtroom where the trial would commence in roughly an hour, if the clocks in this place were to be believed.
Upon opening the doors to the meeting room, Diavolo was greeted not to a place void of life, but to the neatly piled documents of his case on a large table just a few meters away from the man’s wretched offspring, Giorno, who Trish wasted no time walking over towards to sit by his side.
After the door shut behind him, Diavolo wasted no time in making his opinion on the teenager’s presence quite clear. “I thought I told you to keep him away from Trish.”
“Believe me, Signore, I don’t want to be here either.”
“But!” Brando clapped his hands, eager to explain himself with an answer that would only sound acceptable on paper if one didn’t know the man who wrote the words. “It is the nationally appointed Take-Your-Child-To-Work day, and I thought this would be a great opportunity for Giorno to learn the court system first hand.”
“Of course. Because your son desires to follow in your hedonistic footsteps when he’s older. Is that right?” Diavolo jeered, glancing over to Giorno, who had managed to keep that plastered smile on his face.
“Dad!” Trish tossed her sunglasses onto the table, defiantly sitting down next to Giorno, despite her father’s wishes.
“Actually, Signore,” A wave from Giorno’s hand kept Diavolo’s attention on him. “I would prefer to go to law school to be a prosecutor. Unlike my father, I prefer seeing criminals behind bars where they belong. And I’m only here because he has custody of me this weekend and work is the only time we can ‘bond’ as he puts it.”
Diavolo shifted his eyes back over to Brando with validation in his dislike for that disloyal boy, who was making it clear that he not only knew Diavolo was guilty, but he was probably rooting against his own father in the trial to come.
“He takes after Jonathan a bit too much in some areas.” Brando shrugged off his son’s clashing ideals with his own and moved over to the documents, seemingly looking for something in particular. A quick snap of Brando’s fingers as the attorney moves over to his bag, grinning from ear to ear as he pulls out a clip of papers before sauntering over to Diavolo’s side and invading his personal space with an arm wrapping around his shoulders and whispering into his ear. “A little bird told me someone was trying to buy out the jury. And If I’m not mistaken, four out of twelve members does not win you the majority vote. Even if one of those poor saps passed away under rather unfortunate circumstances.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Oh come now, we both frequent the same circles.” Brando let his arm fully wrap around Diavolo’s form as he reached over to flip to the next page of his packet, revealing a printout of an article published last night on an explosion that took place while juror number eight was driving home from work. “I know his handiwork when I see it. Do you not have faith in me? Have I not been a fantastic lawyer to you all this time we’ve spent together? Do I not satisfy you anymore?”
That last sentence must have been personally crafted to make Diavolo’s skin crawl as a shiver swept up his body, leading the man to break free and stumble out of Brano’s hold. “T-There is n-nothing wrong with shifting the odds in your favor! Aren’t you married!?”
“ Divorced, actually.” Brando corrected. “And you're a widower. If I didn’t know any better, then I’d say fate has brought us together for a reason. Perhaps this case was truly meant to be…”
Giorno rose from his seat in a huff, his chair scraping against the floor behind him and masking the gagging noise Trish made with her mouth.
“I believe Trish and I should take our leave and wait for the proceedings to start elsewhere before either of us is morally obligated to report whatever that was to the authorities. Unlike yourself and my father, we’re not bound to attorney-client privilege.” The teenager then nodded his head toward the door, receiving a look of agreement from Trish as she followed him out of the room after giving her father one last look of disbelief.
“He won’t—?”
“Unlikely. He knows how important getting you acquitted is to your daughter. Though, I can’t say if he’ll be as willing to look the other way in the future, so let’s conduct ourselves with that in mind.”
“You’re the one who brought this up in the first place!” Diavolo fumed, letting most of his weight fall onto the chair in front of him as he kneaded the stuffed backing with his tensed-up fingers. “I want this to go as painlessly as possible and put these accusations behind me. It’s bad for public business to be associated with organized crime.”
“Somehow, I’m sure you’ll manage no matter the outcome. But for you and Doppio, I’ll see to it this little scandal that came about under your nose.” The attorney moved to where the teenagers were sitting, circling the table while never quite taking his eyes off Diavolo on his way to pick up his things and make sure everything was still in order. “You’re lucky the men you have working under you have continued to refuse to cooperate with the police.”
“They know better.”
“And speaking of Doppio…” Brando backpedaled a bit. “Forgive me. I’m a little surprised to see you in court instead of your other half. With how actively you avoid the cameras, convincing the court that Doppio is the CEO of your shared company without revealing the reality of your situation and keeping the ‘Diavolo’ half of Solido Naso’s identity a secret wouldn’t have been a difficult thing to maneuver.”
“Is my being here going to present a problem for your ability to perform, or should I request a new lawyer?”
The attorney chuckled, transitioning every so smoothly into another one of his awful double entendres. “I’ve never had a client complain about my ability to perform. Especially when under pressure.”
Diavolo bit his tongue, shaking his head as he should have seen that one coming before Brando even had a chance to speak. At this rate, there was no point in acknowledging them if his goal was to spend as little time in this building as possible.
“Cute.”
“Anyway, I believe I can work this.” Brando lifted his arms and opened his hands, creating a circle-ish shape around Diavolo in the air. “In fact, this is better. I was originally planning on asking our sweet Doppio to take the stand as he is what most would call highly sympathetic and relatable compared to, well, you know. Sadly, his personality does not match up with the ruthless businessman persona the court believes Solido Naso to be.”
The attorney stepped closer, dropping his briefcase on the ground as he trailed his eyes up and down over Diavolo’s form, lingering on a few choice pieces of Diavolo’s suit before continuing. “Providing them with the contrary would bring about suspicion. So, we’re going to play into their bias and turn it around! But first—”
Diavolo blinked.
Brando was gone, forcing Diavolo to spin around in shock to find him standing by the exit, briefcase now in hand, while the other was gently nudging the door in front of him. Aware of what the man’s stand was capable of, Diavolo quickly looked down at his uniform, unnerved to find that his tie had been straightened and the sleeves of his jacket smoothed out while the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight, averse to the faint feeling of being touched…
“YOU GROPED ME!”
“I was making you look presentable, Signore Naso! Now, let’s not be late to court! Juries tend to frown on those sorts of things.” That blasted attorney then dared to wink at him before shoving the door open, letting the noise of the crowd flood into the room and prevent Diavolo from following through with the multitude of threats that were running through his head, all uniquely crafted to deal with that man in particular.
Even with all the press outside, the actual courtroom was rather quiet, save for the murmuring among the occupants already inside, as no one wished to draw more attention to themselves as necessary. Trish and Giorno were already seated in the front row directly behind the defense table, happily conversing amongst themselves while Diavolo waited for his legacy to be judged in the eyes of a bunch of peons and a judge who kept himself busy with his own work while the rest of the court got themselves in order.
It was when Diavolo and Brando took their seats that the prosecutor made his appearance, rolling into court on his wheelchair and that unmistakable disaster that man called a hairstyle, thankful to be on time as the final minutes ticked down on the clock above the entrance. The man’s looks weren’t a dead giveaway. The moment he opened his mouth the accent on his tongue was enough of an indicator that his prosecutor was going to be—
“Jean-Pierre Polnareff, representing the people, your honor! Present and ready to serve!”
The Frenchman gave a carefree salute before exchanging greetings with a few others before making his way to the prosecution table. As he reached the end of the aisle, Polnareff ignored the defense table in favor of who was behind it.
“Good to see you kid! Sorry to see you on that side of the room, but give it a few more years and soon you’ll be going head to head with your old man.”
Giorno was about to wave over to him before Brando glared behind him, daring the teenager to continue on with his greeting. “Polnareff, I do believe I told you to stop giving my son these ludicrous ideas about how ‘noble’ and ‘just’ the prosecution profession is. Because, between you and me, we both know how much the government favors… certain outcomes over others.”
“Dio Brando, you never fail to ruin what could be a lovely case between two old colleagues.” Polnareff sighed, refusing to let his good mood fall to the wayside just yet, though his tone shifted into something much more serious. “I used to think we’d get along so swimmingly, but then again, with the people you defend, I’d never find it in my heart to forgive you. However, I won’t let the sins of the father ruin what could be a good career for your son.”
The prosecutor then nodded to Diavolo, a grim look flashing over his eyes while acknowledging his presence before turning away to take his place behind the prosecution bench, Diavolo took a deep breath and held himself back from throttling Brando for not warning him of the connection he and the prosecutor shared while another notch in his ever-growing list of reasons to dislike both Brando and his son were growing by the second.
“Polnareff won’t be a problem, I’ll handle him.”
Diavolo disagreed.
“This case is already personal to him given the… circumstances behind his confinement to that wheelchair. Now with your personal history, I’m sure if getting this guilty verdict was intended to be the magnum opus of his career, then surely now it will be.”
If only the assassins he hired had done their job and kept that nosy prosecutor out of his business. But, like a cockroach, he always came scurrying back, begging to be crushed under Diavolo’s hell with his very presence so placed directly by his foot. If only the court would excuse attacking a prosecutor in court as a matter of personal catharsis over months of delays and rerouting supplies to avoid the investigators Polnareff worked with.
Even with Diavolo’s grim suspicion of Polnareff’s motives, Brando leaned his body over and kept his voice down. “What you need to do is keep your face from popping a blood vessel and remain calm. Remember, we need you to look likeable to win those remaining jury members over. Play along like the good little actor I know you can be and I’ll take care of the rest.”
‘I’ll show you a good little actor…’
Diavolo sunk into the seat, attempting to get comfortable having to be this close in proximity to Brando for the entirety of the afternoon as the judge called for court to come into session. This whole ordeal was going to take too much of Diavolo’s time, not to mention how time began to crawl as the opening statements were unbearable to listen to. To force himself to appear attentive was a tall order to ask, one he had to comply with to make sure he didn’t miss any new developments in the case against him, but nothing Polnareff brought to the stand was anything new or even remotely interesting.
Even Brando, for all his flair, worked the courtroom as he did with any other case, keeping it surprisingly professional with a few littered comments here or there that no one would really bat an eye over then the true spectacle of the event was enough to keep them focused on the information that came out. Diavolo would go as far to say that the man was impressive, but that would be giving his lawyer far too much credit. Nothing Brando had done so far in court was worth remembering as anything but fulfilling his role as the record-holding defense attorney Brando makes himself to be, and at the rates he charges, that was all that was required of him.
Then, everything changed when Diavolo was asked to take the stand.
Did Diavolo vow to speak the whole truth and nothing but the truth? No, but perjury could only be proven if he was deemed guilty and at that point, a minor perjury charge on top of everything else he was being accused of would have very little impact.
“Signore Naso,” Brando stood up from his chair, fixing his tie before strutting around in front of the jury, pausing just enough to make sure all attention was fixated on his question before continuing on with this farce of a trial. “Do you think my attire is quite dashing today?”
Diavolo looked upon his attorney in horror at what he just heard, right here, in this very public courtroom that needs to be persuaded of Diavolo’s innocence.
“Are you trying to be funny—!?”
“Objection, you honor!” Polnareff shouted over him. “Relevance?”
The judge raised an eyebrow towards Brando, eagerly waiting for a response.
“I am only trying to establish honesty, Signore. While my client has sworn to tell the truth, Signore Polnareff has painted this man to be a liar, a thief and even a murderer! With such defamation to my client’s character, I am seeking a way to right that wrong by asking him a simple question that any sane, reasonable, and honest person would answer with a resounding yes, as I do believe I’ve come to court dressed my best.” After Brando finished beseeching the judge, he winked at the young jury women sitting in the front row, getting her to grow red in the face.
All Diavolo desired was to sink back into his chair and disappear. Even Brando’s son found the behavior repulsive, turning away from the scene in embarrassment.
The judge swung his gavel down on the wooden block in front of him. “Signore Brando, your client can sue for defamation after the proceedings, but right now, you both need to focus on the allegations at hand.”
Diavolo raised a hand. “May I request a moment with my attorney? I’m worried about his sudden decline in respect to this court.”
“You may have a ten-minute recess. I should hope that the both of you can get your acts together when we reconvene.”
“What the hell was that!?”
“As I said, I was trying to convince the jury that you're an honest businessman who got swept up into a dishonest scheme right under your very nose!”
“You want honest? I can give you honest, you insufferable c—”
“—Continued asset to your acquittal.” Brando finished, tapping his nails against his forehead. He appeared to be a bit more disappointed than frustrated with Diavolo’s reaction, as if his embarrassment to the both of them wasn’t his own doing. “You know, I wouldn’t have to go to such extreme lengths to get your attention if you would have spent the night with me. You know, not just anyone can claim they had sex with god and be honest about it.”
“With how many people you bring home, I bet half the city could say that.” Giorno grumbled from his seat behind them, chin resting on his hand displaying an anamused look to his father’s antics. The four of them were back in the private room, as Trish wasn’t to be left alone for anymore reporters to harassment and Brando certainly wasn’t going to risk letting Giorno converse with anyone not in eyesight while this trial was still ongoing. “I could be low-balling my estimations.”
“You are not helping daddy right now.”
“I never needed the image of you two together in my head, and now it’s there. I’m going to be scarred for life.” Trish exclaimed, collapsing her head onto the table. “I don’t even care what verdict you get as long as we can go home! You’ll wiggle out of whatever sentence you get if presumed guilty anyway. It’s what you do!”
Diavolo rushed over to Trish’s side, swatting away the concerned hand Giorno was about to place on her shoulder to bring her into his arms, much to the teenager’s annoyance. “Sweetie, I know this is hard right now, but I promise this will all be cleared up soon and you can go back to school and spend time with those… friends of yours once the pressure is off our family’s back, ok? Your birthday is coming up, isn’t it? Perhaps we could do something to make up for all this trouble?”
A desperate attempt to appease his daughter, but seeing her so upset like this was not the confident booster Diavolo required to see this trial through.
Brando cleared his throat. “Speaking of father-offspring related things—”
“Now is not the time, Padre. You both have less than five minutes left before you are due back in the courtroom. Signore,” Giorno leaned down to address Diavolo. “I don’t have much care for my father’s tactics and I certainly wish the two of you never come together in any capacity other than what you both have now but for Trish’s sake I hope the both of you get your acts together.”
Diavolo was taken back a bit from the quasi-supportive tone coming from the boy’s mouth. “Oh? That was surprisingly… amicable, oh you.”
“Make no mistake, I will seek action against you in due time as I find you and your business deplorable on every level, but that can be a problem for future you to deal with.”
The fact that Giorno was so open about his future plans was quite bold, if not laughable. Though, something told Diavolo that after this trial, he may want to nip this future problem in the bud now before he becomes much more of a threat down the line. If only Brando wasn’t in the picture...
“Isn’t he adorable when he threatens legal action against people?” The attorney lifted his wrist and spun around his watch, grimacing at the time. “Well, as much as I love all this cute bonding we have going on between us, how about we finish your time on the stand, Signore. And this time, please follow my lead.”
“You look tired. Agitated.”
“Your honor, he’s insulting me now.” Diavolo whined, unsure of how this new opening differed from Brando’s previous attempt.
“Signore, get to the point.” The judge sighed, fighting to hold back his own dislike for the attorney and his client behind the impartial role of a judge he has to maintain. It was the accusatory eyes that gave the judge’s disposition away. That, and how short his statements were when Brando would take to the stage.
“I’m only stating facts, your honor. He’s not very friendly looking either, which fits well into this ‘corrupt businessman-mobster persona that Signore Polnareff would have you believe.” Polnareff scoffed at this, but Brando ignored him in favor of turning his eyes to Diavolo. “Signore Naso, you are responsible for running your company, Passione? And you manage it all on your own?”
Shaking off Brando’s prior insult, Diavolo answered the question.
“That is correct. While I have a trusted assistant, I oversee most of the management work personally.”
“Why? Why not leave it to someone else? Perhaps a small team or even someone to take your place doing the hard work while you use the position of CEO as more of a title to rake in the profits with little effort on your part. That is what CEOs are doing, right? At least, that’s what the public believes. In contrast to the actual truth, which is that the average CEO works more hours in a day than their lowest ranking employees, in a messy schedule that doesn’t provide much in terms of a structured lifestyle that many of us love to benefit from.”
Diavolo pondered for a second, interested in where Brando was going with this line of questioning but still failing to pick up on where they were going to end up.
“As much as I would love to leave the work to someone else, I take pride in handling important matters myself. I like to know what is happening first hand.”
“But in the case of the drugs that were being distributed through a business, you loaned money to, one that fell under your company’s banner... You weren’t aware of this?”
“No. Sadly, as much as we keep in touch with the businesses my company works to build up and make prosper, what they do with their money in private eludes us.”
“Since you don’t own these businesses in question?”
Except that Diavolo does, under a different alias and through a whole other section of Passione’s underground sector of the company that does not and never will see daylight. That’s the thing with those who work in forgery under his employment. They are very good at what they do. Creating a fake business here and there to launder profits through, both legal and illegal, in this expanding web of lies has been ludicrously profitable. Even if one branch of the web was caught and torn down by the city, the lies spun by Passione have become too intricate to unravel fully even now.
“Especially since we don’t own the business in question. That would be a violation of privacy.”
“Thank you.” Brando paced back and forth a bit, as if he was taking time to think about the next question he had been ready to ask all morning, if the way his red eyes pierced Diavolo’s soul where he sat as he spoke was telling enough.
“Would you say your company is like a family, Signore?”
Diavolo’s first reaction was to shout an obscenity, especially as he could see Giorno giggling in his seat, aware of the obvious word choice being used here. Passione, the criminal syndicate, was indeed a famiglia by all accounts, but the company proper only began to use that term openly as other businesses started to adopt a ‘family oriented business model to promote trust among their customer base. A large coincidence that once again, allowed Brando to make these inside jokes to keep Diavolo from feeling any modicum of comfort in his presence.
Still, Diavolo clenched his teeth and did his best to answer the question.
“In a sense. I built this company from nothing. Cultivating it with my own will and drive to see it succeed. I make an effort to know most of my employees by name, especially the ones I’m in most contact with, as I find that intimate relationships can go a long way for a company's success.”
The truth was much more malicious, as Diavolo kept the majority of Passione’s members and business partners on file with as much information gathered on them as possible with the extensive network of a certain man in a hat and a useful set of playing cards had provided him with. The Don was more familiar with his enemies than those directly under him, unless failure was on the table, and even then, this thorough comb through of background and research has never led him astray.
“I completely agree, Signore. So, you must have been deeply upset at the news that drugs, more specifically, designer opioids, were being pedaled through a store that you trusted, one that you wished to see do proper, legal business through the use of your loans.”
Diavolo internally nodded his head, now understanding just what Brando was setting him up to say next. The time to play into the juror’s sympathy was now, as the evidence connecting Diavolo to the actual crime being committed was rather flimsy at best when viewed under a proper analytical lens.
“Signore Brando, I am appalled that anyone who values my business would dare sell illegal substances under their roof. Not only have so many people been hurt by their reckless disregard for human life while they sought out an easy profit, but after getting caught —as they should— by police and then go dragging my company’s name through the mud by this unfortunate association drawn up between myself and these criminals is… I still don’t even know what to think. These people, these monsters have not only betrayed my trust, my company, but I would even go so far as to say, my daughter, whom I use this company to support with all my heart ever since her mother passed away.”
Brando took this small pause for air in between sentences to turn his attention over to Trish, who was clutching a tissue in hand and leaning into his son’s arms. And as disgusting as it was to see them so close, the effect this had on the room as sad looks of condolences for her situation washed over the crowd. There was a tinge of suspicion in whether Brando had planned on using Trish as a crutch from the very beginning, as he was aware of how close Trish and that son of his were, not to mention how she felt about this affair since the beginning. Manipulating events to get this little spotlight on her was impressive if Brando had truly planned for this to happen, but luck still appeared to be the biggest factor in all this.
“To say that I am deeply upset by this whole affair is an understatement. I am grotesque by it and I hope the men responsible for their crimes get punished as they should.” Diavolo couldn’t help but feel a bit smug at that last statement, reveling in Polnareff’s disgust at his ironic claim for justice to be served.
“Thank you, Signore Naso.” Brando was about to return to his seat, when he suddenly stopped just in front of the defense table and lingered for a moment too long, wrestling something in his head.
“Are you finished, counselor?” The judge asked.
“Actually, your honor, I have one more question to ask Signore Naso while under oath.” The attorney turned around and approached the stand, placing a hand on the railing that surrounded the chair as he made direct eye contact with Diavolo. “Why won’t you sleep with me? What is it about me you find so unappealing? Is it the hair? Eyes? The moles on my ear? Because frankly, I have never had this much issue with anyone jumping into bed with me before—”
The whole courtroom gasped at the man’s despicable display, save for the prosecution and the judge, who wasted no time in whacking his gavel and reprimanding the defense attorney as he should. “Signore Brando! I will hold you in contempt!”
“Actually, your honor,” Diavolo raised his hand again, too embarrassed to do much else other than keep a straight face as he worked to find some way to preserve his reputation not as a businessman, but as someone who does not and will not ever fraternize with his own defense attorney. “I’m going to change my plea to guilty to all charges and request the death penalty for my actions.”
Another gasp took hold of the court as Diavolo prepared for any objection Brando was going to use to get out of this rather large tarnish to that impressive case record of his. Even if Diavolo's motion was granted, Trish was right about one thing: he was going to find some way to circumvent all of this through alternative means, as the legal route has done nothing but tease and humiliate him in court.
So much for believing in the justice system...