Presenting the switchblade, and expositing needlessly about it, finally jogs Gumshoe’s memory about “the incriminating piece of evidence.” Which was, incredibly, the switchblade. Oh, no shit? I hadn’t picked up on that. But Gumshoe does have some new information on the knife to share, notably that the police traced its purchase to Darke and it also had his fingerprints on it. And even though no one ever actually saw him stab anyone with it, Gumshoe says, “That’s where his luck ran out. When you take a look at the knife…you’ll see it’s broken!” Ema is like, “DURRRRRRRR,” but Gumshoe’s getting to the point (sorry): “Take a guess where the broken-off tip of the knife was found. That’s what did him in! The victim, Neil Marshall, was carrying it…inside his own body!” Yeah, he was. Nice again. Gumshoe shows them the bloodied knife tip that was buried in Marshall’s butt as well as Neil Marshall’s autopsy report, which stubbornly sticks to the boring facts and notes that he got stabbed in the back. Whatever! Ema probably wrote this.
Finally, Phoenix wants to know about the actual Joe Darke case, and not the part that happened after he was in police custody. Joe Darke was apparently a middle-aged businessman, and his “serial killings” went like this, per Gumshoe: “One day on his way home from work, he hit someone with his car.” He reportedly did not do so intentionally, but Gumshoe goes on, snarling, “An accident, yes! But it transformed him into an animal! He killed a man that witnessed the accident. Then he killed a lady who saw the second crime. A kid walked by just then, so he killed him too. Then, when he was done burying the bodies, a jogger came upon the scene and was killed as well! Finally, he turned himself in.” This is basically the murder version of “There Was an Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly.” It’s also less a serial murder than it is a random killing spree.
JUST THE TIP
Gumshoe says there was no evidence whatsoever of this, and that it’s all based on conjecture. How could all of that possibly be based on conjecture? Is “conjecture” code for “Joe Darke told us”? Why did he even turn himself in, only to escape and murder someone else, if there was no evidence? For that matter, how did this guy kill five people on a whim without creating any evidence, but he was stupid enough to leave all these witnesses he had to kill? He was apparently enough of an amateur to bury four bodies on a fucking jogging trail but he knows how to perfectly scour a crime scene? And how were the police ever “desperate for evidence,” like Angel and Lana said, when it seems like this entire ordeal occurred over a matter of hours, not days? This has been portrayed from the beginning as this protracted manhunt for a dangerous wanted killer, but it sounds like Joe Darke went from his first accidental homicide to stabbing Neil Marshall in the butt before anyone would have even had time to begin an investigation. Joe Darke had an even busier day than his final murder victim. And speaking of him, Neil Marshall was the first prosecutor assigned to the case, but how long was he on it, five minutes? No wonder Edgeworth didn’t remember him.
Of the prosecutor’s death, Gumshoe says, “That crime was witnessed by someone too, but fortunately he was arrested on the spot. It’s a good thing that last witness wasn’t killed.” Ema looks wretched about having her life boiled down to “Thank God this person lived long enough to be a narc,” but Gumshoe, still somehow oblivious to Ema being the witness in question, doesn’t notice. “Well, there you have it in a nutshell,” he finishes. “That’s all I know.” This is both the most informative and the most frustrating I have ever found Gumshoe. Seriously, go back and read those last two paragraphs again. What the fuck is the deal with this case?
Phoenix has one more question for Gumshoe. “What is it?” Gumshoe asks. “If it’s money you need, you should ask Chief Gant.” Gumshoe is really keyed up over those 50 dollars. Phoenix tries to build up to his request and not look too needy. “It’s not money, but it does concern the Chief,” he says. “His office is a ‘crime scene,’ right? It’s where Prosecutor Neil Marshall was murdered…” Ema blows away Phoenix’s attempt at subtlety and finishes that they need to get in there and spray their fluid all over the room. I’m not sure when they got it in their heads that Gumshoe would be able to help with this, but it turns out he can: “Well, any Detective’s ID card can unlock the door,” he tells them. So there’s some powerful executive out there–I WONDER WHO–whose ID number can’t even be accessed, but any asshole with a rank of detective or higher can just waltz into the locked office of the chief of police? That makes sense! Clearly a lot of thought was put into this system!
Of course, just because Gumshoe can do this, that doesn’t mean he wants to. “But if I let a civilian in there,” he says, “I’d be charged with breach of trust.” Oh no, not a breach of his deep and penetrating trust! The worst offense imaginable! For violating the sacrosanct and firm trust of Chief Gant, Gumshoe would be hella fired. And though he is perpetually on the verge of that, he is unwilling to risk it just for Phoenix to rub his junk all over Gant’s furniture. Ema suggests using Niceguy’s ID, but Gumshoe says, “That won’t work either. The data was deleted the day he died.” Yeah, that’s why he wasn’t in the system when Marshall printed out the evidence room door records! Oh wait. But the system is the system, no matter how much it appears that the system was designed by a brain-damaged toddler on acid, so Gumshoe is their only chance. Phoenix and Ema resolve to come back later if they can come up with something to change his mind.
Logically, if there is any way of getting Gumshoe to help, it will somehow involve appealing to his love of Miles Edgeworth, so I use that as an excuse to steer them toward the prosecutors’ office. I mean, let’s be honest, Phoenix is actually going there so he can rail Edgeworth against the bookcase, while Ema is in the copy room collating 1000 copies of the SL-9 case file. But they might also discuss business! Anyway, the parking garage is mercifully deserted–not that the absence of anyone to talk to stops Phoenix and Ema from derping that the detectives must be investigating the evidence room. Except that they’re not, because 1) they’re all in a meeting at the police department, and 2) it was proven that no murder occurred in the evidence room. Except that Phoenix alleged in court that the murder did occur in the evidence room, and he has somehow forgotten this fact in lieu of fretting about Lana’s past crimes and wanting to break into Gant’s office and stroke his pipe organ.
Phoenix still thinks Edgeworth really liked the ugly pocket square he got him for Christmas.
After they’re done annoying me–FOR NOW–the chuckleheads go up to Edgeworth’s office. One of the many awkward things about the format of this game is that we never see people interact with the scenery. So the room looks empty and Edgeworth does not immediately appear, leading Phoenix to wonder if he’s here (like there would be anywhere for him to hide), only for Ema to go, “There he is! It looks like he’s writing something.” And even though we can’t see Edgeworth sitting at the desk that’s in plain view, we can see a piece of paper and a ballpoint pen that weren’t there before. At least the pen isn’t floating in the air as if held by a ghost. Edgeworth finally comes into view, irritated that he’s been interrupted from his night job filling in for Miss Manners. “He sure was quick to throw that paper on the floor…” Phoenix blue-fonts, and sure enough there is a wadded-up piece of paper under the desk now. That the super-tidy Edgeworth would dare have trash on his floor at any time is incredible. How does he not have a fuchsia, lace-lined wastepaper basket for this sort of thing?
Phoenix dickishly asks Edgeworth, “Tough day in court, huh?” You were there, Phoenix, don’t be like that. Edgeworth replies, while grimacing and hugging himself, “Hmph. I’ve had to live the past two years with rumors flying around. What’s another allegation to me?” Look at the brave face he’s putting on! Adorable. He asks his boyfriend to get to it–the sooner they do their business, the sooner they can do their business.
In the name of thorough investigation, our spiky-haired hero shows incredible restraint and doesn’t immediately examine the wad of paper on the floor. He first takes another look at the King of Prosecutors trophy, flung carelessly onto the couch like a naked defense attorney. The dialogue starts out the same way their discussion of it started yesterday, but Ema soon mutters, “I saw something today that looked like this, somewhere…” This leads her and Phoenix into derping at length about where else they could have possibly seen this trophy. I want to punch both of them, but they wouldn’t feel it through the screen anyway. Phoenix’s last lonely brain cell does have an inkling of where else this trophy has appeared, so he tucks this into his “Stuff Edgeworth might be honest about post-coitus” file.
If only Phoenix could think of a way for Edgeworth to release those pent-up feelings.
I don’t know why I’m so eager to talk to Edgeworth about the case in general, instead of jumping to these more interesting items–it’s just more of the same non-erotic self-flagellation he’s been engaging in since the beginning of this case, but even more so now that he knows the rumors about himself were, in a way, true. There is an implied “Siiiiiiiiiiiiiigh” after every line of dialogue. “But you didn’t know, did you?” Phoenix asks, hoping against hope that he’s not sleeping with a complete monster. “I mean, that the evidence was falsified.” Edgeworth did not know, but he adds, “The Police Department and the Prosecutor’s Office share a bond of trust. If that bond is broken, we stand to lose everything. The Police Department’s error is my error, my responsibility as the prosecutor in charge. That fact remains the same no matter what excuses I might have.” That penetrating bond of trust again! Edgeworth can feel Gumshoe’s erection poking at his leg all the way from the police station. But Edgeworth is not in the mood for either of the two erect wieners at attention for him right now. “I take pride in my work,” he says. “So tell me why! Why has it all come to this…” I so badly want to make fun of him for acting like getting in trouble at his high-paying job is the worst thing that’s ever happened to anyone, but I just can’t do it. His hair is just so perfect when he’s sulking.
Phoenix, now that he’s confirmed Edgeworth will be crying during sex tonight, changes the subject to the trial tomorrow, and whether Edgeworth will be able to get through it without ruining his makeup. I guess that’s not really a subject change, but I had to click on something else. Whatever. “First last year’s trial, and now this one,” Edgeworth says with that wry smirk that sends Phoenix’s blood rushing to very indelicate places. “It seems all you do is worry about me.” SO CUTE. Too bad he adds, “To be honest, you’re getting on my nerves.” That’s not nice, Edgeworth. Phoenix is entirely too needy and sensitive to understand when you’re just teasing him.
Though Edgeworth did not suggest in the slightest that he would be recusing himself, Ema balls up her fists and insists Edgeworth must see this through to the end. And anyway, as he says, “Tomorrow is the last day. It’s too late to change prosecutors.” Ema, what even. Edgeworth adds, “I’ll bet that’s what my superiors are banking on.” That he has to finish the entire trial, which will somehow make him look even worse than he does already? Will tomorrow’s testimony be that Edgeworth banged the mayor and poured red food coloring in Gant’s therapy pool? What the fuck else could even happen?
“I never thought this case would come back to haunt me like this,” Edgeworth says. When Phoenix has to ask what he means, as if the ways SL-9 has harmed Edgeworth need to be elaborated upon at this point, Edgeworth makes a bit of a left turn. He shows Phoenix his dick a piece of paper that looks very similar to the one Gant shoved into his desk drawer earlier. “That list of evidence. It seems too short,” he explains. “Most lists…run twice as long.” Jesus, Edgeworth, don’t be such a size queen. Phoenix repeats that it is half the length of most lists, while I giggle a lot. It’s obvious that the paper Gant was looking at is the missing half of this evidence list. And this will get incredibly, brutally stupid later, but it’s already dumb now, since we’ve established that the amount of evidence against Joe Darke was minimal, including any fabricated evidence. Also, it’s the goddamn future, but heaven forbid that anyone consult a digital copy of the list or print out another copy. I swear to God, there is not one single solitary thing in this case that holds up to scrutiny.