It was unusual. Well, not very unusual. For me all the cases are unusual so in that way it was business as usual, usually. If you can’t tell by my hair, I’m an animal-rights lawyer. I protect animal rights. It was a much easier career to get into than I ever thought it would be and the most fundamental reason is that animals don’t have any rights. I was like an expert right away.
I’m a lawyer. It’s my profession, my passion, my livelihood and my gift. I law. I work hard at it too which isn’t so for all lawyers. True, most lawyers are fine and upstanding pillars of society who not only work hard to help people navigate the perils of our judicial system but often even volunteer their own time and expertise at no cost. Then there are people like me who lack those underlying qualities and just do what we can to get by. I did that before I landed in the animal rights milieu, if you will.
My latest case was a case in point. In point of fact it was very much a case in point. A very pointy case. I was hired to defend a beaver. He was sympathetic enough for a rodent. It was a huge step up from rats. First, rats are maybe the most un-sympathetic creature on earth and second I was getting really fed up with the scorn and the lawyer-rat double entonders, intondres, ontundres, meaning things. They always went to prison, the rats. It didn’t matter whether they were sentenced to death or not because the appeals process takes forever and they always escaped. I think they can crawl through a hole that’s only one molecule wide. Repeat business isn’t bad as far as rats go for legal services but I have few rules I live by as a lawyer and one is to never, ever depend on repeat business. This rule is in alignment with my other two rules that are still under development at this time. Those two rules work in tandem and will be finalized later this year or early next. One has to do with ummmm, crap, I can’t remember right off the bat.
The beaver’s name was Danny but I told him we were going to have to change it for the trial. “Danny” sounded too rat-like and we were going to drive as big a wedge between him and his rodentism as we could. “Branford” was my first choice but he flatly refused. We finally settled on “Drake” for the trial. I thought ducks were pretty damn sympathetic and this would be a huge victory for us with the juror’s subconsciousness. Oddly enough, many lawyers still don’t know that everything in the courtroom should deal with subconsciousness. Even down to the smallest gesture. Like for instance, I give the judge flowers everyday just after he or she takes the bench, you know after the O-Yee, O-Yee crap. It sends a subliminal message.
Danny was arrested for illegally cutting down trees.
“I didn’t do it” he said adamantly.
“Of course not!” I replied just as adamantly, thinking he looked guilty as shit and we were going to have to do something about that.
“You don’t believe me” he said flatly.
“It doesn’t matter what I believe, Danny, what matters is what lies we can get the jury to believe.”
“Look, I’ve been living at that pond for over five years. Why would I cut down my own trees?”
He had me there.
“”Ummmm, to, ummmmm, build a dam maybe?”
“What? You think just because I’m a beaver means I can’t help from destroying my own neighborhood? Is that what you think?”
“Danny, it doesn’t matter what I think. What matters is what deception we can get the jury to think.”
“I’ve been there five years and never have I beaved a tree. Never.” He folded his hands across his chest and flapped his tail firmly on the wooden floor.
“Danny, look, flat tail denials aren’t going to help our defense. We’re going to need to develop an alternative theory. Do you have someone else we can blame this on? Like an innocent bystander or a rival beaver gang or something?” I asked.
“Jesus. You don’t know shit about beavers do you? I thought you were an animal-rights lawyer. There’s no beaver gangs. That’s just propaganda. We don’t collect in gangs and we don’t “git jiggy widit”, okay? Besides I ummmmm, I don’t, ummmmm, I don’t beave.” His voiced had trailed off to a quiet whisper.
“You don’t what?” I asked, thinking I must have misunderstood
“I don’t beave.” he repeated.
“What!?” I yelled
“That’s right! I don’t beave! I’m not gonna be afraid anymore! I don’t beave! I don’t beave! There! You happy??” Danny collapsed into the armchair in a sobbing heap.
“All beavers beave.” I scoffed. But he never relinquished. Oddly, it sounded like he was telling the truth or something but I couldn’t be sure because I don’t really know what that sounds like.
Maybe I could make this work in our favor, I thought, I mean the shock value alone would be huge if used at the right time. A beaver that didn’t beave indeed.
Danny was through for the day I could tell. Once a beaver gets worked up like that, they have to go work off that kind of energy, usually through the teeth.
“Go home Danny” I said “Gnaw on something”. He hugged my leg and left. I had a lot of work to do. First it was photographs. I called Connie but she was busy working a groundhog case. She had to come in on time in that one or he’d go into hibernation and couldn’t testify for at least four months, nearly six months if he saw his shadow. I had to take the crime scene pictures myself. As sernpdiity, sarahdippity, sarandippity, luck would have it, me taking the pictures was the reason were able to win the case in short order.
I got to the pond just before dark and even had to turn my camera flash on for the last few takes. I was getting back in my car when I heard a funny sound coming from the woods. It was the same distinctly discernible sound I had heard hundreds of times as a kid. Penguin laughter. I always pictured Burgess Meredith in a top hat when I heard that sound. This time I knew Danny’s fate might hinge on just that sound. I quietly slammed the car door. The laughing stopped for few minutes and I wondered whether I had scared the penguins off or if they were bold enough to return. Penguins always come back, it’s like they can’t help themselves. The laughing commenced again, this time with an evil undertone. Or a devilish overtone. There was some kind of maleficent tone in the penguin laughter that was eerie. Suddenly they burst forth from the underbrush like a cadre of special forces soldiers. Two were on their bellies and three were standing. Two standing were carrying big sticks but the one in the middle had a McCulloch chainsaw. Laughing maniacally, he cranked the little engine and hit the first tree he came to. I expected it to go toppling over in seconds but in fact he stalled out at least three times and had to restart the chainsaw by pulling the starter cord repeatedly with his little flipper. By the time the tree actually fell, he was slapping the side of the saw and cursing it about every three minutes. I had all the pictures I needed.
I had been working with the local District Attorney, or DH as I used to like to call him, for years and we got along famously.
“Your honor!” I yelled to get his attention.
“Oh Jesus, not you again.” He was always kidding with me.
“I have something you need to see.” I said.
“Last time I heard you say that the judge threw you in jail for 3 months.” He replied
“That was clearly a misunderstanding.” I replied brightly.
“Here, lookee.” I offered my camera viewfinder.
“What are those?” He said pointing to the penguins.
“What, are you blind? Those are commando penguins. My client is innocent.” I said triumphantly.
He squinted at the viewfinder.
“Hmmmm, could be. You do these up with PhotoShop or something?”
“The pics are still in the camera, Einstein.” I responded with a smirk. He paused and looked at me.
“Okay, I’ll drop the beaver charges tomorrow. But your donkey is going away. For a long time. A long, long time.”
I was okay with that. That donkey was a real ass.
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