Victor Frankenstein's Awkward Moments - 2. Igor Saves the Day

“All rise! The Honourable Justice Harvey Billingsworth presiding.”

“Please be seated,” the judge announced to the packed courtroom, and the shuffling of benches and chairs reverberated throughout the wooden hall as people settled themselves.

Victor glanced around nervously hoping for some way to get himself out of this mess. Thinking furiously he hoped that others in the courtroom would be called first so he would have more time to figure this out.

"Dorothy, whose first on the list?" the judge asked his court clerk.

"The matter of the Crown versus Dr. Victor Frankenstein, Your Honour." she shouted across the room.

Victor groaned inwardly and moved up to the desk he was pointed toward by the bailiff standing in the corner.

"Does the prosecution wish to proceed with the matter?" the judge asked the dude in a wig standing at the table to his right.

"Yes Your Honour, Mr. David Harrington for the prosecution. We believe we have more than enough evidence to proceed with an immediate trial."

"Objection! Objection!" All eyes suddenly swivelled to the door, and a collective gasp wrung out as a berobed and bewigged Igor shuffled slowly and loudly, grunting with each step toward the dais.

The judge looked over the top of his spectacles and down his nose at the shuffling mass coming towards him.

"And what exactly are you objecting to sir, this proceeding hasn't even started?"

Victor turned a cynical eye toward Igor as he made his way forward. "What the hell are you doing? Do you want to get me hung?" he hissed under his breath.

"Watch and learn Doc," Igor winked covertly and attempted to straighten himself up as much as his massive hump would let him.

"Apologies to Your Honour and his courtroom," Igor bowed awkwardly. "Igor Willington the 3rd, representing the defence. My objection is based on a trial going forward without my client having the necessary representation in place to offer a plea. Since I am now here, I withdraw my objection and offer a plea of Not Guilty on all charges your Honour!

"Hmmm... very well, but I warn you Mr. Willington, no more outbursts in my courtroom."

"I wouldn't think of it Your Honour." Igor respond humbly, quelling the ire of the judge.

"Mr. Harrington, please proceed."

"Thank you, Your Honour." The prosecutor rose, placing both hands on the lapels of his robes as he moved toward the centre of the room. "In the depths of the night, an evil night, I might add," the courtroom pulled back and gasped, "this man," he shouted with a pointed finger at Victor, "did willfully... and egregiously violate the very sanctity of our moral fortitude, by attempting to dig up the grave of our dearly departed friend and local blacksmith apprentice, Lenny Johnstone. Affectionately known as Smithy." The prosecutor wiped a fake tear from his eye and dramatically swept his robes as he pivoted on his foot to face the judge once again. "Your Honour, he was found with shovel in hand by our very constable on the night in question, and shackled immediately, and brought to the stockade where he has been languishing in his shame for two nights until this glorious morning! I rest my case." and he sat down on his chair dramatically, to the applause of the gathered crowd.

Igor, along with the rest of the courtroom was on his feet applauding, much to the disgust of Victor who was pulling his robe in an attempt to get him to sit down. "Your not helping when you applaud for the prosecution Igor!"

"A little trust would go a long way here Doc." Igor turned back to the court and continued clapping long after everyone else in the courtroom had seated themselves again.

"Mr. Willington, are you supporting the position of the Crown?" the judge asked.

"No Your Honour I simply thought it was an appropriate show of respect for the soliloquy that my learned colleague must have practiced for hours to get just right. Most affective." he concluded sarcastically and the courtroom erupted into laughter.

"Order, Order!" The judge struck his gavel repeatedly to calm the spectators down. "Another outburst like that and I will clear the courtroom." He turned his eye toward Igor. "You've been warned once, and you are bordering on being thrown out of my court and summarily having your client in chains."

"Again I beg the courts apology," Igor bowed, and continued, "I call the good constable to the stand."

"Objection!" this time it was the protection's turn to be outraged. "The defence can clearly see that the Constable is not here, as he is tending to his duties. Is the defence suggesting that the constable has lied in his documentation on the matter?" He turned an accusing eye on Igor, which the judge matched.

Igor stood, "Your Honour I could not call the constable a liar if I wanted to, as he is not here today. Perhaps I could cross examine the documents he submitted, as in my understanding of the laws governing this land, my client has a right to face his accuser." He sat down with a satisfied smirk on his face, and a look of surprise on Victor's.

The judge sat back to consider his statement, and turned his attention back to the prosecutor. "Objection overruled." The prosecutor sucked in his breath and turned an evil eye on Igor.

Igor once again rose to address the court. "Then I would like all charges dropped, due to lack of evidence, Your Honour."

The judge considered the request glancing back at the prosecutor who was nervously awaiting the decision.

"No. The documents will stand as is. Do you have any thing else to submit in defence of your client?"

Igor glanced at Victor whose hard stare confirmed that he was thinking murderous thoughts of him.

"Yes Your Honour," his voice rang out in the courtroom. "I call Mr. Miles Davidson to the stand."

There was a small shuffling of one chair as a small, thin man of at least 70 years, slowly made his way to the dais, and took his seat in the witness stand to the judge's right. The judge turned to the man. "Please raise your right hand sir," the judge instructed. The man did so. "Do you swear to tell there truth, the whole truth, so help you God?"

"I do." the man said.

"Please state your name and occupation for the court."

"Mr. Miles Davidson, undertaker."

"Thank you Mr. Davidson. Mr. Willington, your witness."

"Thank you, Your Honour." Igor said as he raised himself up and shuffled toward the man. "Mr Davidson, did you have, in the recent past, any occasion to meet my client?"

Victor moved forward in his seat eager to hear what the man would say. From his recollection, he had never met the man.

"Yes, sir. Not four days ago, when he came and buried his good father, a man I knew well." There was a collective sigh of compassion from the audience, which the judge looked annoyed at, but ignored.

"And where, good sir, is Dr. Alphonse Frankenstein buried?"

"Not three hundred feet from the hole that young Dr. Frankenstein was found in two nights ago."

Victor sat back with a small smile on his face.

"Thank you sir, Your Honour, I would like to call my client, the esteemed, Dr. Victor Frankenstein, to the stand."

The judge dismissed the undertaker, and swore in Victor as he took the stand.

"State your name and occupation for the court," the judge instructed Victor.

"Dr. Victor Frankenstein, I am a medical doctor specializing in genetics." There was an intake of breath from the crowd as they tried to figure out what that was.

"Your witness," the judge said to Igor.

"Tell me, good doctor, were you or were you not highly intoxicated on the night in question?"

"Objection your Honour," the prosecutor called from his chair, "Perhaps my learned colleague would like to be sworn in before he offers testimony?"

"Objection sustained, do not lead the witness."

"Point taken Your Honour," Igor acquiesced, but the fix was in. "Dr. Frankenstein, please tell us how you came to be discovered on the night in question digging a grave in the local cemetery?"

Victor picked up his cue and turned on his tears. "I drowned myself in drink that evening, I am ashamed to say. Overcome with my grief at losing my father, a man who nurtured and stood by my side for many years and who had been taken away from me prematurely by the white plague, I wanted, in my stupor, to look upon his face once more. I went to what I thought was his grave for this reason."

The prosector was desperate, and jumped to his feet sensing a losing battle. "And why did you not mention this to anyone at the time?"

"I did Your Honour, but the constable refused to hear my explanations, choosing instead to ignore my protests, and being more concerned with locking me in irons."

The prosecutor sat down defeated.

"I rest my case, Your Honour." Igor returned to his table and stood waiting.

The judge considered what was before him. "Given that we do not have the constable here to dispute your testimony," he glanced reproachingly at the prosecutor who looked away sheepishly, "I have no choice but to dismiss all charges against you. You are free to go." And the crowd erupted in applause, again to the annoyance of the judge, but he chose to ignore it and retired to his chambers.

"Let's get out of here, and you can make me some of that stew Igor."

Igor looked at Victor with a raised eyebrow. "Not even a thank you Victor for saving your ass, or buying off a drunken undertaker, or digging a grave with no body in it and marking it with your long dead father's name?"

Victor looked taken aback, "What? I would have probably done the same for you," he stated flatly.

"Really? Would you really have done the same for me, or would you have laughed while I rotted in irons, behind a cell door?"

Victor looked uncomfortable and shuffled back and forth from one foot to the other, not meeting Igor's eyes.

"That's what I thought. Perhaps, Victor, maybe once in your life, you could turn your many skills away from the dead and attend to those that are living."

Victor watched in shame as Igor shuffled out of the courtroom slipping off his wig and leaving it on the courtroom floor.