"If you didn't kill James Broadshaw, then who did?" the prosecuting attorney asked.
Instantly, Matthew Murdoch was on his feet. "Objection, Your Honour. It is not Miss Hardy's job to determine who the guilty party is; that is the job of the police."
"Objection sustained," the judge declared. "Mister Smythe, please confine your questions to the matter at hand."
"Yes, Your Honour," Smythe replied with a miniscule bow of his head. "The prosecution has no further questions for this witness."
"Your witness, Mister Murdock," Judge MacIntyre stated.
Slowly, Matt rose before beginning to move closer to the witness stand.
There was definitely one advantage to being a blind lawyer, it gave one a fraction more time to think before having to ask any questions. The problem right now was that, while Matt was certain that Miss Hardy was innocent of murder, he knew that she wasn't as innocent as she appeared to be. And it'd be bad form to get her thrown in jail for a different crime than what she'd been arrested for.
"Miss Hardy. Prior to the evening of the fourteenth, had you ever had any prior contact with Mister Broadshaw?"
"No." Felicia replied succinctly.
Matt nodded. "And on the evening in question, was the door to Mister Broadshaw's apartment unlocked before you entered?"
"It was," she replied, with not even a hint of a smile or smirk in her voice, something that he was very grateful for, considering how he'd worded that particular question.
"Did you attempt to determine if Mister Broadshaw was home before you opened the door?" he asked.
"Yes. I called out, but there was no answer," she replied.
"Then why did you decide to enter Mister Broadshaw's apartment without an invitation?" Matt asked.
"I thought that I could quickly get in, grab what I needed to and get back out again without causing a scene," Felicia explained.
"The items belonging to Angelica Stone?" Matt asked.
"Yes," she replied.
And just like that, they were past the most dangerous part of the questioning.
"How far into the apartment did you go before you discovered Mister Broadshaw's body?" Matt asked.
"I didn't. Need to go into his apartment, that is," Felicia replied. "As soon as I opened the door, he was just there, lying there. That's when I rushed in, hoping to help him."
"And that's how the police found you," Matt stated more than asked.
"Yes," Felicia replied anyway.
"You were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time," Matt clarified.
"Exactly!" Felicia agreed.
ooo00ooo
"Miss Felicia Hardy," Judge MacIntyre said after reading the piece of paper that had been handed to her by the bailiff. "Please stand."
Felicia complied, with her two lawyers, Nelson and Murdoch, rising on either side of her as well.
"It is the decision of this court that you are not guilty of the murder of James Broadshaw. I must caution you, however. Much of the verdict was decided upon by the reasonable doubt that was shown in your defence. The fact that you were willing to enter another's home, regardless of your intentions, is a crime. A note will be entered into your permanent file and you will be placed on a good behaviour bond for a period of three years. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Your Honour," Felicia replied.
Judge MacIntyre gave Felicia a long hard look before lifting her gavel and bringing it down.
"Case dismissed."
Instantly, Felicia turned to Matt and grasped his hands.
"Thank you. Thank you so much," she said, before whirling about to thank Foggy as well.
"Just be sure to keep your nose clean, Miss Hardy," Matt stated once she'd turned back around. "Three years' good behaviour, remember."
"Don't worry, I will," Felicia assured him. "It's straight back to university for me and as soon as I can, to find a good, honest job. That should keep me out of trouble."
"Good luck, Miss Hardy, with everything," Foggy said, before beginning to straighten their notes and to place them into his briefcase.
Matt 'watched' as Felicia left the courtroom. He could only hope that she learnt her lesson from this and left what she'd learnt at her father's knee behind her. Somehow, though, he doubted it.
ooo00ooo
Bruce eyed the crowd across the street warily.
From the position he was in, he was almost invisible, not that any of the crowd were looking his way anyway. The bulk of the crowd seemed to be reporters, although there were a fair few everyday New Yorkers who seemed to be Avengers fans. Many, he noted, wore shirts and hats with one or more of the heroes on it. Two young boys, brothers by the look of them, were both wearing giant green fists on their hands.
Gasps, screams and pointing indicated that something high above the crowd had caught their attention. Bruce leaned out from behind the pillar and looked up, only to instantly start grumbling to himself.
"Sure, bypass the crowds; take the easy way in," he muttered towards the red and blue teen swinging high overhead and the cloaked figure on his flying broomstick.
Within minutes, the two had disappeared from sight, landing somewhere on the great platform above the Avenger's logo.
"Four jumps, maybe five," Bruce muttered, eyeing the Tower.
But turning into the other guy to reach the party would be somewhat counter-productive – they were gathering to celebrate that the Tower was finally fixed and refurbished, not to trash the thing again.
Finally, Bruce gave in and, after looking both ways, dodged through the traffic to reach the front of the Tower. Getting through the crowd, though, was a whole other ballgame.
"Excuse me. Sorry. Sorry. Excuse me."
It took a fair bit of manoeuvring to get his body through the tiniest of gaps and a whole lot of apologising as he made his way towards the front, but eventually, Bruce reached his destination. Only to come face to face with a cordoned off barrier that was still a couple of metres out from the great glass entrance doors.
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