Gant’s hysterics are so exhausting that even the graphics have to take a break, and so it’s over a black screen that a more sedate Gant says, “I knew I should have gotten rid of him…” He could mean fucking anybody at this point, including the poor judge, but a black-and-white image indicates that Gant is referring to Jake Marshall. “That good-for-nothing scum! For two years he’s been snooping around the department trying to get something on me!” Yeah, he really should have gotten rid of him. I don’t think that requires hindsight. Gant finally reappears, looking composed again. Apparently Officer Marshall, from the Department of No Shit, Sherlock, had nothing better to do in his exile to security guard duty than to bug Gant about reopening SL-9. “He recruited Angel Starr, then convinced Bruce [Niceguy]…” Gant goes on. After Phoenix is done going, “THAT Niceguy?” and making me want to strap him to a rocket heading for the sun, Gant relates the events that brought him and Niceguy together. Marshall begged Niceguy to let him see the evidence, but Niceguy refused, leading Marshall to steal his ID in his futile, idiotic attempt to get it himself. And that’s when shit went pear-shaped.
As we know, Niceguy went to Gant after his ID was stolen so he could finish his evidence transferal. “Then all of a sudden he had to speak out!” Gant says, in disbelief that anyone could be so stupid as to talk to him. Don’t they know that’s punishable by a paddlin’ on his organ bench? The score, in anticipation of the reenactment of Bruce Niceguy’s brutal murder, returns to the Tragic Piano of Two Years Ago as we see the silhouettes of Niceguy and Gant in the evidence room. Niceguy apparently asked–and I’m imagining Gant recounting this conversation in a whiny little kid voice–“Can you please reopen the investigation, Chief? We can’t transfer the evidence out. There are too many questions left unanswered!” So Gant very understandably panicked and stabbed him in the chest with the switchblade. Like you do.
I would be remiss if I didn’t note now that, had Marshall just stolen Niceguy’s ID without first trying to convince him via other means (*blowjob noises*), Niceguy might have never asked Gant to reopen the investigation and he might still be alive. Nice going, Rooster Cockbutt.
It’s also important to note that nothing in that locker would have actually helped. The contents we know of were the other fragments of THE JAR, the rubber glove that’s never been explained, and the switchblade. None of that evidence would have provided any new leads on the case without being put in context with the items Gant was hiding. So Marshall wasted two years of his life and got Bruce Niceguy killed for absolutely nothing. By the way, Jake, two solid years of being up Gant’s ass about this, and yet you don’t bother taking matters into your own hands until after 5 p.m. on the day of the transferal? Even I am not that bad a procrastinator.
‘That doesn’t work!’
ANYWAY! I am so fucking close to the end and I keep delaying it. What is wrong with me? Gant says that, post-stabbing, he was still in a panic and was worried about the switchblade. If he left it in the body, it would raise questions, but if he pulled it out, even more blood was going to get all over everything only for multiple people to not notice it. Dilemma! Obviously, Gant opted to leave the knife in the body and keep his blood cleanup to a minimum, but he still didn’t do a very good job. Phoenix labels his mistake as leaving behind “Detective Gumshoe’s bloody hand print…” which is such an awesome typo I almost think it’s on purpose. That Gumshoe! Gant says, “I used to be known as the ‘crime computer’… But everyone has to start somewhere I guess. I was too nervous.” It was his first second time! So scary!
And then we come to the most important player in this sordid tale: the Penismobile. Edgeworth grumbles that they put the body in his precious car, and Gant replies, kind of awesomely, “I’m sorry! We couldn’t think of any other way to move the body. We broke the trunk, but what’s the big deal? You pull down a lot more than us detectives!” Does Edgeworth really make more money than the chief of police? Phoenix is going to hunt down his W-2 form–to think Edgeworth said the economy was too rough to buy him that navy blue Maserati! So Gant not only moved the body, but took some unnamed, additional SL-9 evidence as well, though he, as Phoenix notes, left some items behind. “I couldn’t sit around and pick and choose what to take,” Gant explains. “It looks like I was better off being an investigator of crimes than a committer.” I wish the game would stop lampshading how shitty Gant is at crime when we’re also supposed to believe he kept up this perfect charade for years. Also, what other evidence was there to take? Why does the total of the SL-9 evidence keep ballooning and contracting to fit the narrative? That list of evidence, torn asunder just so Phoenix and Edgeworth could heal it with the power of their love, should really have been the size of a post-it note.
And with that, Gant’s narrative is over. He never actually explains what happened the night of Neil Marshall’s murder, which is disappointing. I was all ready to hear him lament the logistical problems of pinning an unconscious man to a sword held up by a suit of armor. “Rigor mortis takes a lot longer to set in than you’d think!” he’d complain, while I’d nod sympathetically. Instead, Gant provides one final monologue: “They all did their best to get in my way… I’ve got to hand it to them, they do their jobs well…much to my dismay.” Yeah, so many people who are good at their jobs in this story. If there’s been one common theme in the over 100,000 words Jeanne and I have written about this case, it’s professional competency. “Fake evidence doesn’t hold up very well upon close examination,” Edgeworth, the guy who was fooled for two years by said fake evidence, responds. See? Competency!
“Tell me, Worthy,” Gant says. “What are you doing in court?” Edgeworth seems surprised by the question, since “trying to give my boyfriend the most painful erection possible” seems so obvious an answer that he shouldn’t need to say it. “You despise criminals,” Gant clarifies. “I can feel it. You and me…we’re the same.” Oh my God, did he actually pull out the “We’re not so different, YOU AND I” speech? And isn’t the fact that Edgeworth hates criminals exactly why he’s a fucking prosecutor? Or was it because a deranged bailiff he himself a prosecutor killed his dad and destroyed his kindhearted nature seemingly forever until it was healed by Phoenix’s Jizz of Idealism? I don’t care. At least Edgeworth doesn’t cry, “I’m nothing like YOU!” and leave eyeliner-streaked tear tracks on his cheeks. Gant warns Edgeworth, “One day you’ll understand. If you want to take them on alone…you’ll figure out what’s needed!” But he’ll never be alone! He has Phoenix inside beside him!
A black screen later, Gant says, “Well, looks like it’s time to say goodbye.” This is the best thing anyone in this game has ever said. “Oh, Udgey,” he adds. “Looks like we’ll have to cancel that lunch date. Sorry old friend!” Oh my God. SO SWEET. The judge shakes his head and replies, “I’m sorry too, Damon Gant. I knew you as you used to be, long ago. You were once a fine investigator, and an example to others on the force. I’m sorry to learn that you are no longer that person.” The judge is keeping a stiff upper lip here, but you know he’s falling apart on the inside. “Those days are gone now, Udgey,” Gant says. “Thanks for all the memories, though…” This is like Jack telling Rose goodbye as he sinks into the Atlantic. I’m tearing up over here! And to keep his beloved from faltering, he adds cheerily, “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine! Now you have Wrighto here…and Worthy. With these two around, you can’t go wrong…” While the judge and I are hugging each other and crying, Gant finishes wistfully, “You see, if I listen carefully, I can hear it right now… The sound of a new beginning!” And he disappears beneath the waves, leaving Udgey only the Heart of the Ocean to remember him by.
With Gant gone and the judge going through an entire box of Kleenex, Lana takes the stand again so Phoenix can lecture her about what a silly woman she’s been. “There are two things I want you to understand,” Phoenix tells her. “First, your sister never hurt anyone. Second, Damon Gant betrayed you from the beginning.” Nice how that worked out! God forbid we have any shades of gray around here. But the tiny fringe of gray at the edge of this case, at least, is that Lana has still been up to some unscrupulous conduct. “When this trial is over, I’ll tell everything,” she promises. “All that I’ve done these past two years…from the time I had Gant help me forge evidence, up until today.” In the peanut gallery, Angel Starr waits with bated breath for Lana to leap into her arms and beg forgiveness for scissoring with Mia Fey.
‘But you’re an adult woman, so I don’t really care.’
Lana compliments Phoenix on his incredible tenacity in the face of his bitch of a client lying to him at every turn. In thanks, she smiles for the first time since this case began, and it’s supposed to be a warm and genuine smile, but it somehow makes her look even more robotic and unnatural than before. She then thanks Edgeworth as well, adding, “You’ve suffered every bit as much as I have over these past few days. Believe me, I know how much of an ordeal it’s been for you.” So many angry internal affairs boobs in his face! And his car is in impound! Such travails. Edgeworth plays it cool and grunts, “Hmph! It was nothing,” just so Phoenix can blue-font about what a giant liar he is. The voicemails he’s been leaving Phoenix at 2 a.m. have been just embarrassing.
‘Victory’ is Edgeworth’s nickname for his butthole.
Like Gant, Lana’s last action before the judge’s gavel comes down is to praise the two attorneys for their incredible teamwork and obvious sexual chemistry. And now nobody’s going to force them into morally dubious water therapy! The judge tells Lana that a trial will be scheduled to deal with the non-murder charges she still must face. She accepts his words with more of that creepy new smile of hers. When the judge is like, “Is this fucking amusing to you? MY BOYFRIEND IS A MURDERER, STOP FUCKING SMILING,” Lana drama queens, “It’s been a long time, Your Honor. A long time since I’ve felt free of these heavy chains…” She is going to break into song any minute.
“Well, this trial has gone on far too long already,” the judge severely understates. “Regarding the charge of murder, this court finds the defendant, Ms. Lana Skye…NOT GUILTY.” Confetti! Everyone is hugging! Some with more feeling than others, Phoenix and Edgeworth! I have more rum, but this time I’m chugging it in celebration! Yay!
Before we get to the undoubtedly euphoric post-game in the lobby, as we did with the last case, it’s time to consider the timelines of these two crimes. I should note now that Jeanne and I have been obsessively picking apart this case for at least the last three years, and yet, even while writing our respective recaps we still kept finding inconsistencies. This is the only timeline we’ve been able to compile that best explains all the events while minimizing the irreconcilable inconsistencies. Needless to say, it’s a fucking mess.