Necromancer Lawyer

“Dead men tell no tales? Wrong, Your Honor. As a necromancer, I summon the soul of my first witness, the victim.”

In an instant, the silent courtroom was abuzz with chatter from the people in the back. The mother of the victim wailed at the mere thought of her son coming back from the dead.

"Order!" the judge demanded, smashing his gavel into splinters that showered both attorneys. 

The people went silent at once and the wailing woman sniffled as her husband guided her down to her seat. The prosecuting attorney brushed the splinters off his jet black suit and scarlet red tie. He did not say another word, waiting for the judge's face to return to a paler color. 

"Mr. Hardford, I was not aware you were a necromancer," the judge said.

"That I am, Your Honor. I am licensed in a different state, but I was hoping seeking fair justice would supersede silly licensing requirements.”

"That it is, Mr. Hardford. You may present your witness."

"Objection, Your Honor!" the defense attorney said.

"Overruled. Please continue Mr. Hardford."

Mr. Hardford approached the bench and sat down in the chair. He closed his eyes and raised his hands in the air. He muttered complete nonsense and shook violently until he fell limp in the seat. The jury to his left were in complete shock and some were downright worried he died.

"Bailiff, please check on Mr. Hardford.”

The bailiff did not take two steps before Mr. Hardford shot up from his seat. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked around the room like a squirrel trying to find the next nut. Once he laid eyes on the mother of the victim, his erratic head movement stopped.

"Mom?" Mr. Hardford said. 

"Frankie!" The mother yelled with tears beginning to well in her eyes.

"Where am I Mom? Where did all the angels go?"

The people all began to whisper amongst each other again, bringing with it the judge's ire.

"Order in the court!" the judge yelled, tossing what was left of his gavel across the room. "No more talking or you will all be held in contempt."

All idle chatter ceased again and Mr. Hardford turned to look up at the judge. His dark cloak and round face made for an imposing figure up close.

"I'm sorry, mister. It won't happen again," Mr. Hardford said.

"Not you Frankie. You can speak. You are the witness," the judge said, calming his tone.

"To what?"

"Your murder."

Mr. Hardford looked over to the defense's bench and scrambled out of his chair upon seeing the defendant. Wearing a pantsuit the color of a baby seal and no makeup, the defendant would have been void of all intrigue, if not for her butter blonde hair that swirled like ice cream on her head. She did not respond to Mr. Hardford's reaction, but instead watching him with disinterest. 

"Please, don't let her hurt me again!"

"You recognize that woman?" the judge asked.

Mr. Hardford nodded, still trying to conceal himself behind the chair.

"What is she to you?"

"She is the mean lady who hit me in the head with a golf club. I begged her to stop, but she wouldn't," Mr. Hardford said, shivering as he spoke.

The defense attorney stood up. "Objection, Your Honor. How do we know this is actually Frankie and not just some show for the jury?”

"Mom, I want to go home. I want Mr. Cuddlebottoms," Mr. Hardford said. 

"We'll get him sweetie!" the mother said, trying to stand up before her husband kept her seated.

"Overruled,” the judge said and faced the mother of Frankie. "Mrs. Kennedy, I know this is quite an irregular ask, but would Mr. Hardford have known about this...Cuddlebottoms?"

"No, Your Honor. Mr. Hardford was never at our house nor would he have cared about our son's stuffed alligator."

"That's enough for me. Thank you, Mrs. Kennedy.”

"Are you shitting me right now?" the defense attorney said.

Before the judge could respond to the attorney's lack of decorum, Mr. Hardford collapsed to the floor. The bailiff rushed over to him and some jury members stood up, trying to get a better look at what happened. The audience again broke out into whispers, albeit quieter than the previous times to avoid the judge's wrath. Mr. Hardford awoke from the touch of the bailiff's cold fingers on his neck. 

"Are you alright, Sir?" the bailiff asked. 

"I'm fine,” Mr. Hardford said, standing up under his own power.

"Mr. Hardford, are you able to continue?" the judge asked. 

"I could use a recess, Your Honor."

"No need. I have come to my decision, which I don't believe the jury would disagree with. I find the defendant, Marleen Walker guilty of the murder of Frankie Kennedy.”

"What?" Marleen yelled. "I slept with you! You said I wouldn't spend a second in jail!"

"That was before Frankie's actual soul told us you were the killer! I can't believe I actually slept with a murderer," the judge said in disgust. "Bailiff, take her away."

"I didn't do it! I would never harm a child! He's lying!" Marleen yelled in desperation, while the bailiff cuffed her. 

"Court adjourned," the judge said.

Everyone stood up and began a flurry of conversations. Mr. Hardford looked over to Marleen and smiled something villainous. 

"That's what you get for cheating on me," Mr. Hardford said under his breath before the family rushed to him. Mrs. Kennedy wrapped her arms around Mr. Hardford and cried into his shoulder. 

"Did he say anything else to you?" Mrs. Kennedy asked.

"He said you did great. Really sold it."

"Excuse me?"

Mr. Hardford coughed. "I mean...he loves you and he can't wait to see you again in heaven."

Mrs. Kennedy smiled and let him go. "Can you leave him a message?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Tell him I love him and I'm proud of him."

"Will do. Now if you would excuse me, I have another client to attend to.”

"Of course," she said and moved aside. 

He walked through the crowd and out the solid wood doors. Taking a deep breath, he removed a single cigar from his jacket pocket. He put it in his mouth and patted himself down for his lighter. It was nowhere to be found.

"Great. I can blow smoke up everyone else's ass except mine."