Patrick McLean - How To Succeed in Evil

Hmm, thinks Excelsior. Hot mom, with child, in danger. He should probably go check that out. In the back of his head, he hears Gus saying, “Just don’t do ANYTHING!” He decides he doesn’t care. He wants to save them. He wants the easy win and the gratitude of a beautiful woman. The adoration of the public. So he’s going to do it. What were they going to do, punish him for saving a mother and child? He didn’t think so. It’s not much of a rebellion, but it’s a start.

Excelsior flies low and fast along the surface of the water. It’s more fun that way. When he reaches the bridge, he arcs high into the air so that everybody can get a good chance to see him. A cheer goes up. That’s right, he thinks, Excelsior, is here to save the day. As if there is all the time in the world, he floats down and grabs the front of the car.

“My child! Save my child,” the beautiful blond screams. She’s even better looking in person.

“Don’t worry ma’am, Excelsior is here.” He lifts the car and puts it back on to the bridge. The crowd roars its approval. Excelsior laps it up. The adoration is deafening. He is the hero. It feels good. It is a pure win.

The woman struggles to open the back door and remove her baby from the car seat. Excelsior steps forward. “Allow me ma’am.” There is a screech of twisting metal as he effortlessly rips the door from the frame. Without looking, he tosses it off the bridge.

“Hey there little fella, your mother is worried sick about you,” Excelsior says as he leans into the car. But as he’s leaning across the seat, the child leaps up and shoves a handful of papers into his face.

“Surprise, you’re being sued!” says Topper.

“What? What is this? What’s going on here?”

“It’s all in the papers. Don’t try and figure it out for yourself. Take it to a professional.”

“What about the woman?” Excelsior asks.

“Oh her?” Topper looks as his watch. “She’s paid up for another hour and a half. Have a ball.”

“What? I don’t understand any of this.”

“That’s why you need a professional,” Topper says, “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Topper steps down from the car and sees the crowd. This is a moment Topper cannot waste. “Hey Everybody, let’s have a big hand for Excelsior. He SAVED ME!” The crowd erupts into cheering again. Excelsior is still trying to make sense of the strange little man. But before he can ask any questions Topper scurries off into the crowd.

“I’m dismissing your case,” says the Judge.

“Dismissing my case!” says Topper, “but it hasn’t even started. Besides, the defendant didn’t even send counsel. It’s over, we win.”

“This travesty isn’t even getting started. You don’t have proof of service.”

“Proof of service! Your honor, please,” Topper holds up a picture of himself waving to the crowd on the bridge. In the background of the picture, Excelsior is holding a stack of papers. He has a confused look on his face. “Not only do I have proof of service. Service was covered on NBC, CBS, ABC, CNN and CNBC. How much more proof does the court require?”

“Yes, but whom did you serve papers to? The court will agree that you presented documents to a man in a costume. But this court does not recognize that you have correctly identified the party you wish to sue.”

“What are you talking about? He’s Excelsior. Everybody knows Excelsior.”

“And everyone knows Mickey Mouse as well. And if you want to sue a man who wears a Mickey Mouse costume, you don’t file suit against Mickey Mouse. You find out the man’s name and file the proper legal papers in the proper legal manner. Your case is dismissed.”

“This is a travesty! A friggin tra-ves-ty. I don’t have to put up with this kind of runaround.”

“Yes, in fact you do,” says the judge. He drops the gavel.

“Son-of-a-bitch,” Topper grumbles as he storms from the courtroom. “I need an angle.”

Twenty minutes later Topper has related the whole story to Edwin. “We’re sunk. We’re sunk before we even get out of the harbor.”

“I am shocked,” says Edwin, not shocked in the least.

“I know, right, you at least think they would play by their own rules?”

“No, I am shocked that you managed to leave the courtroom without being held in contempt.”

“What? Let my passion interfere with my work? Sir, I am a professional. But I don’t know what to do with this. I’m stymied. We could try getting the case heard in another court, but, if this is going to be their defense…”

Edwin smiles at his little friend. “Topper, don’t worry. This is a simple problem. Easy to solve.”

“Easy to solve? We can’t even appeal because we never even got to trial! This is a complete failure of the legal system! What can we do?”

“Clearly they have forced our hand. We have no choice but to reveal Excelsior’s secret identity,” Edwin says as he picks up the phone.

Topper recoils in shock and amazement. “You know Excelsior’s secret identity? You mean you’ve known all along?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea who he is.”

“But then how?”

“Shh, Topper, shhh.”

The next day a two-page advertisement appears in the paper claiming that Excelsior is really Ron Koch, a city garbage man and known pederast. Shortly after publication a completely nondescript lawyer arrives at Edwin’s office and serves him with the papers for a defamation of character lawsuit. Somehow, the case is moved to the top of the docket, and Topper and Edwin stand in court two days later.

“Your honor, this man has falsely accused one of America’s great heroes of being a child molester. Decency itself has been wounded. And cries for redress in the amount of 1.3 million” says the counsel for Excelsior.

When the judge looks to the defense table, he is surprised to see Edwin Windsor was writing a check.

“Does the defense have anything to say?” the Judge asks Topper.

“As much as it pains me to say it your honor, we have no argument,” says Topper.

Edwin rises and carries the check to the prosecution. He says, “You win.”

The attorney looks at it and says, “It’s too much. You made it out for 1.4 million? Why would you do that?”

“Call it a tip,” says Edwin as he leaves the courtroom.

“Well, I don’t know what just happened, but this very strange case is closed,” says the Judge as he bangs his gavel.

“Why would you do that?” the government attorney asks Topper.

“‘Cause now, my walleyed friend, we have precedent. If Excelsior doesn’t need to reveal his true identity to sue us, then we don’t need to know his true identity to sue him.”

The attorney blinks twice, then realizes that Topper is right. “Oh my God. What have we done?”

“Bingo Walleye, ya screwed up.” Topper looks towards Edwin. “He’s not a trial lawyer. But he’s very, very smart.”

“Call the judge back,” the attorney yells, “We’ve got to reopen the case.”

“Here’s a copy of the papers I already served your client. I’ll see you in court. You’ll see me in your nightmares.”

There are those who think that the business of the law is conducted in the open air of the courtroom. That every discussion and decision is held in the hallowed halls of justice amid august assembly with wise fathers in togas chiseling words in stone so that Justice might be preserved through the ages. But it is not so. That’s the nickel tour. That’s civics class. That’s the “Babies-come-from-Storks” explanation. And just like the miracle of birth, the reality of the manufacture of justice is much, much messier.

The trial is just the tip of the iceberg. Here’s a peek below the waterline.