What do you think? You’re a public defender juggling 87 other cases. I realize this. But I used the time vomiting myself sober in the back of the police cruiser to think this through. I could have spent the $229 on a private practice lawyer but I know that you, in combination with this cotton/polyester blend, double-breasted suit, stand a fantastic chance of getting me out from under these charges. Plus, I stole it. So it was free.

Yeah, I could have gone with black, but purple just has so much style. Remember when Mario Van Peebles wore one in New Jack City? He didn’t? Oh well. Who cares. That movie sucked anyway. Oh, and check this: The guy at Burlington Coat Factory told me that purple is the color of royalty. And nobody royal has ever been convicted of Home Invasion, Indecent Exposure, Animal Cruelty, 1st Degree Assault, and two counts of Felony Arson. Smart, right? See, that’s how I think.

What? I do have five priors but I also have this striped silk Sean John tie. The jury will be too distracted by it’s aqua green shimmer to even notice my Chicklet toothed meth smile. Besides, this trial isn’t even about meth. It’s about right and wrong. And these 65-thread count wrinkle free orange Rayon socks are definitely right. What? They’re pink? They can’t be. Fuck, I guess I’ve been a little color blind since that bitch maced me in the eyes. Remember to bring that up.

I apologize for swearing. I’m sure you can imagine how stressful it’s been trying to coordinate this ensemble. Take this Lycra shirt for instance. The size 16 collar is a little big around my prematurely wrinkled amphetamine neck, but it’s tall enough to cover the thorn bush marks from when I was fleeing. And the sleeves are long, so her fingernail struggle marks on my wrists are barely visible at all. Don’t think I wasn’t listening when you said this case is all about the details.

Right, I know the puncture wounds above my eyebrow are hard to hide. That’s why I went and got these gold cuff links with Jesus on the crucifix. My state appointed psychiatric evaluator told me about subliminal messages. So, when I stroke my braided goatee like I’m thinking hard, the jury will just stare at my cuff links and realize that a man who can afford these couldn’t possibly have done what this teary-eyed woman is testifying. Subliminally, they’ll see the parallel between Jesus with his stab wounds, and mine. I don’t think his were made with a fork to the forehead, but no one will notice a detail like that. They’ll just be thinking about how Jesus was wrongly convicted. And no one wants to relive that again. History’s on our side. God, damn. It’s hard to imagine us losing, you with your law degree from a fancy college and me with this really fucking nice suit.

Stop shaking your head.