"I guess you're right. Even so, it's going to be a difficult trial. I suggest creating a visitor's list longer than just your daughter. Prisoners with your status don't last long." Schmidt warned. It wasn't a threat, nor empty words. Everyone knew what happened as soon as Dahmer went to prison. "Hm. You're right. Guess I really ought to focus on that mental institution. I never really feared the idea of going to prison. I know that for some reason, nobody will see my way as reasonable as it is. Okay, come up with any argument you can to keep me out of prison. For my daughter's sake."

In felony cases like his own, the trial could be held within sixty days after the arrest. How long had he been incarcerated now? Almost two months, he had to suppose. He wondered if his daughter was in school yet. He hoped she'd been keeping up with her work.

A solid fifty days. That was how long it had taken to get to this point. The crowd was riddled with anticipation. He refused to look at anyone when he was pulled into the room, cuffs on his wrists. Normally the defendant wouldn't be detained, but this was a big deal. He was a serial killer, not someone who'd skipped out on one-too-many parking tickets.

When they sat down, and the proceedings began, he could feel a thousand eyes boring holes into the back of his head. Searing bullets of hatred and disbelief. He hardly noticed when the judge entered the room.

All Cody tried to focus on was the room itself. It wasn't nearly as large as he'd imagined it would be. In fact... It was rather shabby. A dreary government building run by a corrupt group of individuals who could be persuaded one way or another by the sound of printing cash. There was some horrible smell he recognized from, well, victims. Rotting meat and sour milk, with a garnish of vomit to top off the plate. Not to mention, it was hot, and sticky. Perhaps the AC was broken, or perhaps Cody was much more shaken up about this than even he knew.

The opening statement of the prosecuting attorney, however, snagged his ear. Aside from the 'your honor, people of the jury, blah blah, I'm Mr. who-cares', of course. "This case is about the bloodlust of a power-hungry criminal, and the innocent lives he stole for his own self-satisfaction." Those words really would've stung if Evelyn were in the room. Fortunately, she wasn't. So Cody didn't care. He felt truly justified by how he'd gone about his medical malpractice.

He didn't care to listen when Schmidt made his own opening statement. Rather, he focused on those in the peanut gallery. This jury was assembled in favor of the prosecutor, but did that matter? As far as they knew, they were just here to declare 'guilty'. The goal was to convince them that a mental hospital, and 'not guilty', would be a better alternative. Or rather, a worse one. He knew they'd be satisfied with the claim of insanity, as long as it got him out of their hair. After all, none of these people had loved ones ripped away by the violent hand of the defendant.

A few of the jury members were shuffling in anticipation. Others looked bored out of their wits. An older member had already begun to drift off. A young woman seemed to just stare with bug eyes at Cody. He tried to ignore her.

To his surprise, actually, the movies were wrong about one thing. The prosecutor had to ask permission before approaching the jury with his evidence. Ooh... the evidence. Cody didn't want to see, but at the same time, his hard work and dedication was displayed right out in front of him. Why not take a gander?

"These marks here made on the faces of each victim clearly indicate the works of a mastermind. They were made to hide the identities of his victims. This displays that Mr. Lewis is someone who knew exactly what he was doing at the time of the murders." The attorney spread the pictures out for the jury to examine each one.

"Can't you object or something?" Cody whispered over to Schmidt, who shook his head. "It's not hearsay, and it's relevant. I'll make my argument against it when it's our turn." Schmidt answered quietly, under his breath. Neither of their eyes ever left the prosecutor.

The judgment in the room was unbearable. It was heavy, a tungsten block on Cody's shoulders. Everyone in the jury who had their wits about them watched him. A woman started to sob loudly in the audience, and had to be escorted from the room. Still, her cries echoed down the halls. The trial continued.

(Courtrooms can be SO SCARY! But just remember, all of the lawyers are VERY highly-trained and specialize in their fields. I hope you have a blessed and frabjous day, loves!)