Chapter 205: Chuck: Why Aren't You Laughing? Keep Laughing, Don't Stop!
"Speak of the devil, and the devil appears."
As everyone was talking outside the courthouse, a red Porsche 911 pulled up. Chandler noticed it immediately and mocked Harrison Powell, who was dressed in a three-piece suit, as he got out: "Oh, you even brought a paralegal this time. Finally, someone to do the real work~"
A young woman in a business suit got out of the passenger seat, carrying documents; she was clearly a paralegal assistant.
"Harrison, the plea agreement is on my desk. You'd better reconsider,"
the bald prosecutor reminded him.
That's right!
The plea bargain was back on the table.
And the revolving door phenomenon, ubiquitous in American legal circles, was revealed even in their address. Although the bald prosecutor viewed Harrison Powell as an unethical shark, they were actually acquaintances, and their relationship wasn't entirely antagonistic.
Prosecutors and defense attorneys can switch roles.
Many famous lawyers start as prosecutors because it allows them to quickly build connections within the court and prosecutorial system. These connections will play a decisive role when they leave to become defense attorneys representing wealthy clients.
Once they've made a name for themselves as a lawyer, they'll have the opportunity to become a judge.
The plaintiff, the defendant, and the judge are all on my side. How can you fight me?
"What do you think?"
Harrison Powell looked at Chuck with a mocking expression.
"I think you should accept,"
Chuck said calmly.
"Heh."
Harrison Powell chuckled, glancing sideways at the bald prosecutor: "I'll give you a choice too, which is to drop the case, apologize to my client, and save taxpayers some money. That's a good deal, Charlie."
He pointed his index and middle fingers at his eyes, his face full of mockery: "Cross your heart and hope to die. See you inside."
"Too arrogant!"
Jane said angrily. "Chuck, you have to teach him a lesson!"
Testifying in court requires swearing to tell the truth; lying is perjury. The other party is blatantly lying, yet he manages to use the law as a shield, sarcastically claiming he'll strictly adhere to the legal requirement of telling the truth. It's infuriating!
"A lesson is taught through actions, not words,"
Chuck said expressionlessly.
"Ah!!!"
Jane screamed in frustration, then stomped inside in her high heels.
"What's wrong with her?"
Captain Randy Disher asked, watching Jane's departing figure with a puzzled expression.
"Probably because she didn't sleep all night,"
Chandler shrugged.
"Why didn't you sleep all night?"
Captain Randy Disher asked, puzzled. "Is it because of today's court hearing?"
"Are you serious?"
Chandler looked at the clueless Randy and retorted, "You don't even know this?"
"What do I know?"
Captain Randy Disher was even more bewildered. "Is it some big news? I went to bed early. You know, as people get older, they start feeling a bit worn out."
"...How did I know?"
Chandler paused, then added with a self-deprecating laugh, "Okay, I'm middle-aged too... If everyone were like you, that would be great. It's a pity some people didn't even get a chance to sleep last night. Even if it meant exhaustion, they'd still fight! Besides, look at Chuck, he's not the one who'll collapse... He's invincible in one-on-one or group situations!"
"Oh."
Captain Randy Disher suddenly understood.
"You still don't understand, do you?"
Chandler saw right through him.
Captain Randy Disher smiled wryly.
Chandler shook his head and put his arm around him as they went inside.
The court hearing began.
Captain Randy Disher took the witness stand first. The bald prosecutor began presenting the case to the jury through questioning: "Captain Randy Disher, could you describe to the jury what happened on March 28th?"
"Yes,"
Captain Randy Disher nodded. "At eight o'clock in the morning on March 28th, we received a 911 call reporting an unnatural death. The housekeeper discovered the body..."
After recounting the events, the bald prosecutor asked again, "Captain, when did you first suspect Evan Gold of murdering his wife?"
"The moment I arrived at the scene,"
Captain Randy Disher answered honestly. "After all, everyone knows that the suspects in spousal murder cases are mostly husbands."
Seeing the bald prosecutor give him a warning look, he paused. "Of course, later Dr. Chuck Wolfe came and, through various deductions, confirmed the correctness of this common knowledge..."
"Thank you, Captain."
After asking his questions, the bald prosecutor gestured for Harrison Powell to step forward: "Defense counsel, your witness."
Harrison Powell stood up, buttoned his custom-made suit jacket, and immediately went on the attack: "That's quite a story, Captain Randy Disher. I won't take up too much time; I only have a few questions. Your consultant, Dr. Chuck Wolfe, is he a licensed psychologist?"
"No, but he's smarter than any psychologist I've ever met!"
Captain Randy Disher said with admiration, "In solving cases, I think only Detective Monk can rival him, and in other areas, no one is smarter than him."
"So he's not a licensed psychologist!"
Harrison Powell interrupted, "So, is it yes or no?"
"...He's not."
Captain Randy Disher frowned and told the truth.
"Very well,"
Harrison Powell chuckled. "So, without any evidence, you simply based your suspicions on my client based on a preconceived notion about spousal murder, and then had a consultant who had a public conflict with my client speculate on my client's 'crime story'?"
"That was perfectly reasonable deduction, and from that deduction we obtained solid evidence,"
Randy Disher said.
"We'll talk about your so-called 'evidence' later."
Harrison Powell made air quotes around the word evidence: "Let's go back to the previous question. You said it was a perfectly normal and reasonable deduction? Because you have so-called 'common knowledge'?"
"Yes,"
Captain Randy Disher nodded.
"Alright, then tell us about the injuries to your hands."
Harrison Powell's gaze fell on Captain Randy Disher's still bandaged hands.
"Okay!"
Captain Randy Disher immediately proudly recounted how he had personally verified Chuck's deduction.
"Okay."
Harrison Powell interrupted Captain Randy Disher, who was about to continue rambling, and looked around at the judge and jury: "So, you could have just observed, but you insisted on using your hands to test it, and both hands at that. Is this how you acquire your 'common knowledge'?"
Some members of the jury were already chuckling.
The bald prosecutor sighed, rubbing his forehead. The jury's laughter and strange looks had clearly been guided by Harrison Powell... well, guided them to discover that Captain Randy Disher was naturally naive.
This was bad!
Very bad!
For an ordinary witness, this might be fine, even winning the trust of the jury and judge, who would think he was a very honest and straightforward person.
But for a police captain leading a criminal case, this kind of naivety was not a plus; it would only make the judge and jury doubt his competence, thus indirectly corroborating Harrison Powell's narrative.
"My verification is wrong?"
Captain Randy Disher, still bewildered, asked innocently, "Many things are not as simple as they seem. If everything could be determined just by looking and used as evidence, what are we doing here? I personally verified all the possibilities, isn't that good?"
The jury's laughter paused.
In American courts, juries are randomly selected from registered voters—it's a civic duty—so those on the jury are ordinary citizens.
Their perspective wasn't professional; in fact, it was quite amateur. They were trying to judge guilt or innocence from a layperson's point of view.
But this also brought a problem: without any legal training, they couldn't help but laugh at Captain Randy Disher's natural naivety.
Now, faced with Captain Randy Disher's counter-question, they suddenly felt a bit like 'I was the fool,' and couldn't laugh anymore.
Yes!
Captain Randy Disher using his bleeding hands to prove that the broken glass couldn't fit an adult's hand seemed foolish!
But in the legally-driven world where lawyers nitpick every detail, it's possible they could argue something like: trying with only one hand doesn't prove you couldn't use both.
"Okay, let's get back to business."
Harrison Powell redirected the focus: "How did Dr. Chuck Wolfe determine the location of the struggle?"
"The location of the struggle?"
Captain Randy Disher was taken aback.
"Yes."
Harrison Powell smiled. "How did he know the struggle was there, and not in... say, the foyer?"
"Uh..."
Captain Randy Disher froze.
Harrison Powell's lips curled into a smile as he pressed, "Captain Randy Disher, were you there when the struggle occurred?"
"No."
Captain Randy Disher shook his head.
"Then was your consultant, Dr. Chuck Wolfe, there?"
Harrison Powell asked with a smile.
"No."
Captain Randy Disher sensed something was wrong, glanced at the helpless bald prosecutor, and could only tell the truth.
"So, Captain Randy Disher, is it possible that the struggle actually happened in the foyer or somewhere else?"
Harrison Powell stepped forward, pressing him.
"Yes, it's possible."
Captain Randy Disher pursed his lips, answering honestly.
"Very well, I'm finished with this witness."
Harrison Powell turned and went back. "We can move on."
This is a common tactic in court: constantly questioning, even knowing the possibility is almost nonexistent. But as long as the other party isn't 100% certain, they can only answer with qualifications, giving the jury members the impression that the police and prosecution might be wrong.
The truth is, the only certainty in this world is uncertainty!
Nothing can be 100% certain!
Outside the courtroom.
Chuck and his two companions waited to testify.
"So, rough night, huh?"
Chandler, having endured for a long time, finally couldn't stand the silence and started teasing again, "Monica didn't come back last night..."
Jane's dark glare silenced him, and he couldn't bear to continue. He looked away, glancing at Chuck, who sat calmly in the middle, and couldn't help but give him a thumbs up.
Jane bent down, running her hands through her hair, lost in deep regret.
Yesterday, facing Monica, although initially awkward and embarrassed, Jane still felt Monica was a normal person. So when Monica's attitude changed drastically after Chuck said those things, Jane realized Monica was trying to force her to back down by aggressively lowering her standards.
But was she the kind of person who was afraid of such pressure?
So she gritted her teeth and accepted the challenge.
But before she could react, Monica went all out, and more importantly, not towards Chuck, but towards her... Jane was terrified and ran away.
After leaving the apartment and getting back to her car, she drove for a while, the cold air clearing her head, and she began to doubt herself again, wondering if she had fallen for Monica's extreme psychological warfare.
How could a normal person change so drastically?
Yes!
Her rival Monica was definitely playing mind games with her, a game of chicken, where whoever backed down first lost!
Having 'figured it out,' she didn't go back to her apartment, but drove straight to the villa in the hills. She wanted to see who would chicken out, and she was absolutely certain that Monica would be the one to back down in the end!
And then, that was it... The fool was herself. Unfortunately, having been backed into this corner, with no way out, she could only lament, "If I had known she was coming, I wouldn't have come."
"She's out."
The courtroom doors opened, and Captain Randy Disher walked out. Chandler asked, "How was it?"
"Not bad... at the beginning."
Captain Randy Disher nodded, then changed his tone: "Dr. Wolfe, it's up to you."
"Okay."
Chuck nodded, stood up, and walked towards the courtroom.
In the courtroom.
"...So I conclude that Evan Gold had the motive, the means, and the opportunity to commit murder."
Facing the bald prosecutor's questions, Chuck calmly recounted the case.
"I have no further questions."
The bald prosecutor said, "Dr. Wolfe, on behalf of the people of New Jersey, I want to thank you for sharing your analysis with us."
"This isn't an analysis, it's a fact."
Chuck stated bluntly.
"Defense counsel, your witness."
The bald prosecutor walked back, gesturing for Harrison Powell to step forward.
"Dr. Wolfe, first of all, I thank you for sharing your so-called 'facts' with us."
Harrison Powell again made air quotes, and smiled. "If you don't mind, I'd like to take a little time to revisit your testimony."
"Revisiting every single sentence of testimony only takes a little time?"
Chuck countered.
"...What?"
Harrison Powell's smile faltered.
"Weren't you going to revisit all my testimony, scrutinizing every single word?"
Chuck looked at him. "This isn't just a little time. Are you sure you'll uphold the truthfulness of every word you swore to in court?"
The judge and jury all looked over.
The bald prosecutor's eyes lit up.
"Oh, I see."
Harrison Powell was caught off guard for a second when Chuck saw through his subsequent strategy, but as the self-proclaimed top criminal defense attorney on the East Coast, he quickly regained his composure and changed the subject with a smile: "This is what you call deduction..."
At this point, he looked around at the jury members, spread his arms, and said mockingly, "Or should I say psychic reading?"
"It's logical deduction and micro-expression analysis,"
Chuck corrected.
"Micro-expression analysis?"
Harrison Powell scoffed. "That's still just guessing. Whether it's psychic reading or micro-expression analysis, it's all just speculation. If you were asked to guess the color of my socks, you wouldn't be much better than a fortune teller!"
"Indeed, it's inference,"
Chuck nodded. "But if your analytical skills are strong enough, micro-expression analysis is far more effective than polygraph machines, and not much worse than so-called mind reading. As for your socks, they're charcoal gray."
Harrison Powell's sneer paused. Meeting everyone's gaze, he stretched out his leg, pulled up his trousers, revealing charcoal gray socks, and said with forced humor, "Look everyone, pretty accurate guess, or rather, good observation skills. But I still want to say, hey! Don't stare at my crotch!"
As soon as he said this, many people burst out laughing.
"Matching your socks to your suit makes you look taller,"
Chuck said calmly. "You're also wearing elevator shoes, and the soles have been replaced. People might think you're being frugal, and you might even use environmentalism as an excuse, but the truth is you're facing a financial crisis. The Rolex you're wearing is a knockoff because you pawned the real one to pay off gambling debts—losing it all on horse racing!"
Harrison Powell, who had been so composed, could no longer maintain his smile. He stared blankly at Chuck for several seconds, completely losing the confident and assertive demeanor he had displayed at the beginning, capable of effortlessly countering any obstacle.
(End of Chapter)
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