This is Ritz, writing to the Chocobo Digest readers on a notepad while silently in the audience of the court room. I wasn’t around for the case to develop, however when I returned back to our home town, I caught a glimpse of the local newspaper. Marche was charged with a murder? How could that be? He wouldn’t really hurt someone like that, not even if we got paid to do it.

The trial was scheduled to be held that morning at ten o’clock sharp. It was nine thirty currently, so I rushed straight to the courtroom and tried to enter the audience chambers, and I was halted by a bailiff.

“Excuse me, Ma’am, the media isn’t allowed to be-” I cut him off.

“Excuse me sir, but I’m not here as the media today, I’m here as a friend to today’s suspect!”

The bailiff sweat bullets as he excused himself and pointed me to the room the trial took place in. I arrived in the audience chambers just as the doors inched by my sides to be closed as the judge arrived and sat in his chair.

The judge pounded his gavel to organize the silent attention that is traditional to all courtrooms.

The two attorneys stood at their respective podiums; Francine Credo is the defense attorney that Marche requested to defend him. I don’t blame him, either. She’s rather cute and her name sounds so passionate in her profession. The prosecution attorney was one of the best prosecutors out there. His name was Roshi; which sounded like a code name for his real name.

Francine was a new defense attorney. While I didn’t blame Marche for asking her to defend him, I question his decision. Though again, she is the apprentice to one of the best defense attorneys in the nation. Faith Weiss was her name. She was confident and had a wonderful air about her. Almost makes me want to be a lawyer too.

I would continue with what happens in the courtroom, but I wasn’t there as a media journalist. I was there as a friend and a witness. Somehow, one of the witnesses claimed I saw what really happened, and someone portrayed me! They had pink hair that I used to have and wore what I used to wear. The judge didn’t know any better, so I had to stand up out of order and object to this imposter witness. That was how I became a witness that testified to the false testimony of my imposter.

It was obvious the imposter was in cahoots with the real suspect. All I can say is that the first trial day ended without a verdict, and Francine has to do more investigation on what really happened. Such a complicated thing for her debut case to be.

I really wanted to write an article with the verdict, but the trial was so dramatic and twisting of newfound evidence and theories, that it had to be delayed for another day.

I’ll do my best to send the verdict out to you all, even after the issue is published. I’ll post what really went down on a bulletin board for all to see!