This case was being judged by four local Gotham judges along with Chief Justice Amy Hester from Washington. After deliberations among the judges, it was agreed that Hester would make the final ruling. Among the local judges sat Meg Scott, who had become something of a meme in Gotham.

Meg had previously presided over the Penguin’s trial, where he was universally disliked—not only by the defendant but by everyone else in the courtroom. His surname, Scott, carried weight, so apart from becoming an online punchline, Meg emerged unscathed professionally.

—Well, almost. His pride had taken a hit.

Since then, Meg had been on a quest to find whoever had “set him up.” After consulting a doctor about his performance during the Penguin trial, the doctor had countered with a suspicious question: “Were you on stimulants before the hearing?” The issue was promptly dropped.

Now, weeks later, Meg found himself staring at familiar faces in the gallery, including Gotham’s mayor and Bruce Wayne. He glared at them with the intensity of a detective searching for a culprit, though he was far from an adequate bloodhound.

10:00 AM

The session began promptly.

Judges, lawyers, clerks, and defendants each swore their oaths, and the atmosphere in the courtroom turned somber.

However, for those watching the trial in distant cities, the mood was far from solemn. The live-streamed trial lacked features like comment sections or interactive chat, so viewers flocked to forums, where threads quickly became hubs of live-text commentary.

As the oaths were taken, more and more users found their way to these forums and joined the discussions.

Next came the prosecution’s opening statement. The prosecutor summarized the evidence provided by both sides in a neutral, third-party voice, laying out the crimes and their impact. But as the numbers and accusations mounted, the tone of the forum shifted.

“Honestly, just hearing this opening statement makes me think all those men standing there are absolute scum!” wrote one enraged commenter.

“This just makes me more curious to hear how the defense plans to spin this nonsense,” replied another, less emotionally involved.

When the defense lawyer took the floor, he began with a calm, polished smile. “I swear to speak the truth as it aligns with my beliefs,” he said, projecting confidence.

“I have reviewed the records and spoken with the defendants directly. I believe I now have a clear understanding of this case. It is the position of the defense that the accused, Corey Hans, is not guilty.”

The lawyer then argued that while Corey had been accused of drug trafficking and human trafficking, “from the perspective of victim consent,” Corey had neither intentionally nor actively participated in these acts.

Trials are rarely as dramatic as the media portrays. They often consist of back-and-forth exchanges between lawyers, each presenting their cases methodically. In America, a country deeply concerned with individual rights, trials are adversarial. Judges act as neutral referees, while lawyers on both sides are free to employ persuasive tactics and exploit verbal missteps to gain an advantage.

The defense lawyer’s approach in Corey Hans’ case was to deflect blame. The evidence against Corey—particularly the detailed records of drug trafficking and human trafficking at his nightclub—was too extensive to deny. Instead, the lawyer claimed that these crimes were perpetrated by Corey’s subordinates, acting without his knowledge or consent.

In Gotham, buying and selling people is hardly shocking. If the traffickers didn’t harvest organs for sale, they were practically paragons of morality by Gotham’s standards. Drug trafficking? Old news. Gotham’s drug trade was so entrenched it had its own factions. Without drugs, certain nightclubs wouldn’t even attract patrons.

A decade ago, Corey would never have imagined finding himself in a defendant’s seat—it was laughable.

Corey’s Perspective

As the trial progressed, Corey stared into the cameras, imagining the countless viewers on the other side pointing fingers at him. His gaze shifted to the jury, where it lingered on Mayor Anna Alek. Behind her glasses, her eyes were a cold, mechanical gray. Her gaze pierced through him, as if he were a pile of breathing trash.

Corey’s keen eyesight caught her tapping her left hand with her right fingers in apparent boredom, as if she found the trial too dull.

Meanwhile, the lawyer defending Corey’s nightclub business leaned heavily on two arguments:

1. “Non-involvement”: Corey’s subordinates had acted independently, concealing their activities from him.
2. “Victim consent”: The lawyer argued that some victims had voluntarily participated in the operations, especially when it came to raising children born into captivity.

Corey’s defense even produced evidence showing that the nightclub cared for the children—particularly girls and attractive boys—after separating them from their mothers. These children were “raised” by the club and exploited in industries where their appearance was an asset.

The judge, however, dismissed the children’s testimony as inadmissible, citing their young age and lack of capacity to make informed decisions.

With the defense’s statement concluded, it was now time for the prosecution to present its evidence.

Forum Commentary

“Listening to this lawyer almost made me suffocate… Does he seriously believe the garbage he’s spouting?”

“Just looking at Corey’s disgusting face, I can’t believe for a second he didn’t know what was going on. He’s the damn boss of the nightclub!”

Corey could feel the weight of judgment—not just from the courtroom but from the eyes of viewers watching the trial unfold online.

“Yes, he owns a nightclub in Gotham City. How could there not be gang involvement? This is Gotham we’re talking about—the notorious Gotham!”

“Hey! Since Batman showed up, Gotham’s crime and death rates have significantly dropped. Stop your rude, regionally biased comments!”

“Actually, that might not be entirely true. Look at South Hinckley—evil hasn’t vanished; it’s just hidden. Like cockroaches. You think they’re gone from your house, but they’re secretly nesting under your bed. Even if I cleaned them out, I’d still feel disgusted by the whole room. I’ll never visit Gotham because I hate cockroaches!” (This comment has been reported and is under review.)

“But I heard Gotham has been improving recently…”

“Do you really believe that?”

While internet users debated Corey Hans’s guilt, the real verdict would be decided in court.

The prosecution’s lawyer refuted the defense’s claims and presented video evidence. The footage showed Corey beating and reprimanding young girls brought to him and coordinating drug exchanges with South Hinckley contacts. This was far from “unknowing” or “uninvolved.”

The defense lawyer’s face darkened as the evidence played. It was clear the prosecution had verified the authenticity of the footage—it wasn’t fabricated.

Despite attempting to delay proceedings with rhetoric and technicalities, the defense lawyer was ultimately outmaneuvered. During a break, he muttered bitterly under his breath: “Weren’t all the video files supposed to be wiped?”

From the jury box, Gordon and his daughter Barbara exchanged knowing smiles. Meanwhile, Tim Drake, seated nearby, propped his head on his hand, trying to sneak in a quick nap.

Elsewhere in the courtroom, Tal handed Bella Bettywen a glass of water, while Mayor Anna Alek and Bruce Wayne spoke in hushed tones. Reporters roamed around, sensing that the case was leaning in the prosecution’s favor.

Next Up: The Dockyard Kingpin, Durr

Durr, the dockyard kingpin, faced charges of human trafficking and large-scale slave trading. His defense hinged on videos where the trafficked women stated—using broken English or their native languages—that they had willingly boarded his “ship.”

In these videos, the women appeared nervous and hesitant but claimed they wanted to work in Gotham, leaving their hometowns behind. Durr argued that he wasn’t charging a “sale fee” but rather a “referral fee” for connecting the women with employers who provided an advance payment toward their wages. Both parties, he claimed, had been aware of and agreed to this arrangement.

Thus, the defense contended, that Durr’s actions did not constitute human trafficking but rather a legal employment referral service. The court, they argued, should only demand economic compensation for these women—amounting to $2,000 to $4,000 each.

The courtroom and online spectators were appalled. The juxtaposition of the women’s humble faces on video with Durr’s shameless demeanor left everyone stunned.

On forums, discussions grew heavier:

“I can’t even process this. Watching those videos… how can this creep sit there so smugly?”

“Does he really think he can worm his way out of this?!”

The prosecution ultimately presented damning evidence against Durr: audio recordings of his conversations with subordinates.

In one particularly incriminating clip, Dour could be heard saying:

“Once they’re on the ship, those btches won’t have a chance to leave South Hinckley…”*

The vile remarks, coupled with survivors’ testimonies, cemented Dour’s guilt.

He was charged with rape, human trafficking, and manslaughter, as witnesses testified that he had thrown ill women overboard during journeys. Additionally, several cold cases involving bodies found along the coastline were tied back to him.

Next came the main defendants, Police Chief Robert Smith and Mayor Hal Smith of South Hinckley.

The trial stretched from 10 AM to 4 PM, with three breaks, including a lunch recess. Online audiences remained glued to their screens, captivated by the prosecution’s relentless charge. In forums, posters compared the lawyers to warriors charging into battle, chronicling their bravery.

However, Fris, the Smith family’s defense lawyer, wasn’t about to let things turn into a heroic narrative. For him, losing meant more than just defeat—it meant a death sentence. The international drug syndicates behind the Smiths wouldn’t forgive failure.

Straightening his tie, Fris approached the defense bench.

After the prosecution presented damning testimonies from the accused, Fris remained unfazed. He turned to the judge:

“Your Honor, I would like to question the validity of the plaintiff’s evidence.”

Pointing toward the plaintiff’s lawyer, Fris asked:

“Are you willing to swear to God that the testimonies you’ve submitted are entirely truthful and uncoerced?”

The plaintiff’s lawyer, a composed woman, replied coolly:

“I’m not Catholic. But I swear on the justice I stand for.”

Fris nodded, then addressed the jury:

“I hereby object. The testimonies provided by my clients were obtained through coercion, violence, and abuse at the hands of the police. I request that the previous two cases’ witness testimonies be annulled and that I summon—”

He paused dramatically before continuing:

“—Batman and Prison Warden Bella Bettywen to testify. Warden Bettywen, are you willing to admit that you used violence to force my clients into false confessions?”

In the press gallery, Jeff, a reporter for The New York Chronicles, had been fighting off drowsiness during the long proceedings. Fris’s bold accusation jolted him awake. After a moment of stunned realization, he scrambled to raise his camera.

To his disappointment, however, the front-row reporters had already zeroed in on Bella Bettywen, cameras clicking furiously.