B.G. Hilton – Author

Actually, I Am a Fancy Big City Attorney

Spencer Tracy in shirtsleeves in a courtroom scene from 'Inherit the Wind'.

Now, folks o’ the jury, my learned colleague he’ah has been makin’ a right pretty speech, yessir. A right pretty speech. Now, I myself may not be a fancy, big city attorney like he is, but I reckon I know an innocent man when I see one, and my client…

Oh, who am I kidding? I am a fancy big city attorney. I grew up in Tokyo and I was educated in Delhi, and they are the largest and second largest urban areas in the world, respectively. You don’t get much bigger city than those two, nossir. Why, after graduating from my fancy university (don’t worry, I’m getting to the fanciness) I divided my career between Sao Paulo and Mexico City, the third and forth largest urban areas respectively. Why, I never set foot a city smaller than Kinshasa until my fortieth birthday, and the tininess of that city came as something of a shock, I can tell you.

As for being fancy, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I couldn’t be fancier. I have never eaten anything except buttered asparagus covered with foie gras, and I have three manicures a week. I drive a Ferrari made out the steel from recycled Lamborghinis, your honor. Well, I say ‘drive,’ technically it’ll be my nanny at the wheel, when this trial ends and I forget this podunk hellhole on the pologolf course at a country club so exclusive that the King is only allowed in once a week to replace the billiard chalk.

Yes sir, ladies and gentlemen… Oh, who am I kidding? Filthy peasants of the jury — my learned colleague here barely comprises a fancy big city attorney when compared to me. Do you know where he went to college? University of Pennsylvania Law School. U Penn! The ‘participation award’ of Ivy League schools. I can hardly stand to look at the filthy yokel in his not-quite-three-thousand-dollar suit.

I, you shit stained peons, am the fanciest big city attorney ever. I command that you acquit my client (whoever he is) of these heinous charges (whatever they are).

The defense rests – in a silk hammock, drinking a cocktail made of Napoleon brandy and unicorn milk. Remember, not gulty, then back to your tractors.

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B.G. Hilton - Author