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thekimspoblog · 1 year ago

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Iris Wexler-McGill (Born Dec. 2017) They/Them

The night dad didn't come home. They never forgave their mother for it.

They steal. EVERYTHING!

Poetic sensibility. Their sister warns them that their recklessness is going to backfire, but they went and shook-down the old HHM building anyway. The way they see it; that building always belonged to them.

FIGHT! Quick thinking and deception is the first course of action, but Iris will always stand their ground over fleeing. Thinking globally means realizing you cannot outrun tyranny.

That's a tricky question, because they would do anything for the cause, but it isn't really THEIR cause. They were born into a second civil war; defending feminism and LGBTQ rights with tooth-and-claw is all they've ever really known.

Iris isn't willing to kill, not by acting on purpose and directly at least. And there are many times where murder would have been the easiest option.

A lot of things, up to and including their gender. But the biggest thing is obviously that they were originally supposed to be born in June of 2004.

Absolutely. Call it a hereditary trait. But mostly just... see aforementioned Second American Civil war. As I've mentioned in other posts, this kid's gonna grow up post-apocalypse. If it wasn't for the time capsule Iris dug up, there would be little evidence this country ever even HAD law and order.

"Do the Evolution" by Pearl Jam

The sequel to BCS I want to write focuses more on how the Breaking Bad universe occasionally teases magical or supernatural elements. And yeah if I get bored it's going to stop being subtle and its' just going to turn into an urban fantasy AU. I'm waiting for "WYCARO" to air.

Iris can use guns for self-defense and intimidation tactics. But their most prized possession is the pinky ring they inherited.

Iris isn't LITTERALLY a reincarnation of Howard Hamlin, but there is a sort of symmetry to their character arcs. Iris spends their whole life into young adulthood fighting the same war/revolution their parents did, under great pressure to uphold some family legacy that promises to retroactively make all the bloodshed justified. But after a full television season of their sister begging them to reevaluate The Cause, Iris finally does decide to lay down their proverbial sword. The cause might have been righteous, but Iris isn't a messiah; they're just another stray dog roaming the wasteland. Kim and Jimmy took up this cause to give everyone's children a better future; neither of them would have wanted their kids to die for this crap.

I'm trying my best not to write Iris as a self-insert. This character (and other similar baby OCs from other fanfics) is significant to me because my mom is the person who got me into this show in the first place. A few years ago, my mom and I were fighting really badly and (to paraphrase) my mom said something to me: "If your 20-something kid is standing in front of you yelling 'you screwed me up!' it means you did at least TWO THINGS right; you kept them alive and you gave them the emotional freedom to be critical of you". MOM is a very crushing label to put on someone, and you're bound to be criticized for falling short sooner or later. But just remember motherhood is a primordial force of nature, not something you can actually succeed or fail at, no matter what the justice system says. And you can't be paralyzed by fear of failure from living your life indefinitely. That's what I think is the heart of any fanfic exploring a surprise pregnancy and Kim's mom baggage. So to answer your question, it's not about any specific overlap I have with this character (or Kim), but the intergenerational dynamic of mother/daughter is somewhat autobiographical.

Tough. Unflappable. Rebellious. Just. Always the one with the witty comeback and the plan to save the day.

Originally it was going to be Hadley Delany, but I guess representational casting would necessitate finding someone who's actually nonbinary.

High. Iris is a hardened soldier. Basically Se6 of Better Call Saul didn't turn out how I expected, but we DID get a post-apocalyptic miracle baby in the form of Frankie Nichols from Westworld. Iris and Frankie are basically the same character.

See #1 again. A lot of childhood was spent with the au pair, and their parents disappearing for weeks on end. It was always scary, the possibility they wouldn't come home that time. And then one night... it finally happened. RIP Jimmy.

It's more like if the Joker had a coherent and ethical reason for their actions? Iris is warm and bright and funny. Because "Mother's sharp ruthlessness + Dad's cavalier attitude = a dangerous winning combination" is the persona they've lived all their lives. But don't mistake that for intimacy; it's all an act. Their sister is the only one Iris actually talks to.

"One must imagine Sisyphus laughing" - Albert Camut. A lot of scarring things happen in Iris's life, but they're able to take most of it in stride. Because they are so certain of their own convictions, it's like they can see 100 years into the future, when so many small horrors will be forgotten. So it's not really about rage; raging against the machine is what they do on a good day. It's when Iris's faith in THE PLAN is shaken, that you would actually be able to provoke them.

Jealous? No. Passing-off-an-act-of-selfishness-as-being-for-the-greater-good-because-they're-a-spoiled-brat? Yes. Iris does believe the world and the future belongs to them.

Healthy as a clam. Can ward off the evil-eye. Closest thing to a disease, the unnatural circumstances of their birth lead Kim to always find her daughter a little creepy. They're a changeling.

Lawful-good in a chaotic-neutral world.

Doubt.

Jimmy and Kim had ample choices to pick alternate timelines for their daughter. But Iris was always going to be generally the same person in generally the same circumstances.

This is my Half-Life 3 bro. Hollywood can never stop milking a cash cow, and if we get any more content set in the Breaking Bad/Better Call Saul universe, I hope we get more stories about the crotch-dumplings' abilities to survive. If not Iris, the demand to know what Kaylee, Flynn and Holly did next seems pretty vocal.

Edgy/misc OC ask meme ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Send me a number and an OC, and I'll answer.

What memory would your OC rather just forget?

What's something about your OC that people wouldn't expect just from looking at them?

What is your OC's fatal flaw? Are they aware of this flaw?

When scared, does your OC fight, flee, freeze or fawn?

How far is your OC willing to go to get what they want?

How easily could your OC be convinced to do something that goes against their moral compass?

What's one way your OC has changed since you first came up with them?

Would your OC ostensibly be able to get away with murder?

Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC?

What's an AU that would be interesting to explore with your OC?

What is your OC's weapon of choice? Have they ever actually used it?

Is your OC self-destructive? In what ways?

If you met your OC, would the two of you get along?

How does your OC want to be seen by other characters?

Does your OC have a faceclaim? If so, who?

What is your OC's pain tolerance like?

What is the worst thing you have put your OC through story-wise?

Is your OC more cold and detached or up close and personal?

How does your OC behave when enraged?

Does your OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest?

Does your OC have any illnesses or disorders? How do they handle it?

What character alignment would you consider your OC to be?

What emotion is the hardest for your OC to process? How about express?

What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions?

What is your favorite thing about your OC?

#better call saul #breaking bad #bcs #kim wexler #slippin jimmy #jimmy mcgill #jimmy x kim #mcwexler #mcwexlerjr #saul goodman #slippin kimmy

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thekimspoblog · 1 year ago

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"Sheepdog" (Kim Wexler Pregnancy fanfic) Chapter 3: "Kafkaesque"

“One side, everybody! The parade float’s coming through!”

That’s what they were all probably thinking. Pregnant women were a common sight in the hallways of the courthouse, but they were usually dressed appropriately in mumus or jumpers. Pudgy, soft, anonymous. The other women hadn’t attracted enough fame for anyone to take notice, if they had clearly not been pregnant the previous Friday. But now they were all staring at her. They were all staring and whispering. It set her ears on fire, and sent a prickle up the back of her neck.

Fucking Howard! Today started off badly, but she could have recovered by now if that prick hadn’t shown up to undermine her. “Don’t let him get to you,” Kim reminded herself, “You don’t even have to answer to him anymore”. In another week, her plan would go into effect, Davis and Main would drop Sandpiper like a hot potato, and if he still couldn’t see how much stronger she was than him, that’d be his problem. He and his condescension would be in the rearview mirror. She had to keep her eyes forward: Lynn Percival, 31. At issue were the material facts; the chain of events during her arrest. The prosecution was probably going to call attention to her wrap-sheet, but that had no relevance to her interaction with this officer. The cop was expected to deny that he had any prior relationship with her off-duty, but she would be able to get the voicemails he left on her answering machine admitted into evidence, so long as… It’s just insulting, you know?! Ok, Howard never liked Jimmy, and that was understandable. Jimmy was an acquired taste. But when it came to her, Howard couldn’t even grant her the dignity of being his enemy. After all these years, he had still deluded himself into thinking she had a modicum of an iota of an interest in what he thought of her. Why did he think he was any authority on what made someone a respectable professional? And why did he think she was ever that person, before Jimmy corrupted her pure-as-the-driven-snow morals? He was such an insignificant toad, and yet he still somehow found exactly the wrong thing to say, to have her fuming for the rest of the day.

She regretted not buying any antacids on her way to work. It was difficult to focus, when her stomach was a tempestuous ocean of venom. She was starting to regret not wearing sweatpants either. Cobbling together some fitting business attire had been hard, but not impossible. Jimmy had fished this XL gray pencil skirt from the top shelf of the back of her closet, and even so, it was a tight squeeze. As long as she kept her suit jacket buttoned, nobody would notice how badly her blouse was forced to ride up over her turgid bump. What if this wasn’t even a pregnancy? It would make more sense if she had an ovarian cyst. Oh well, the doctor’s appointment was this afternoon, and if she found out she had cancer, Kim wasn’t even sure whether she’d be that upset. She didn’t want to die when life was just starting to get good, but if she had to, dying happy was better than the alternative. She could still put a full day in before the dreaded appointment.

District Attorney Ericsen charged at her, briefcase in hand. “Kim! Do you know where Officer Kirk is?” Ericsen’s eyes were worried, stern, and just a little bit suspicious.

“He’s your witness. Contact his precinct if you can’t find him. Let them know he’ll be held in contempt if he doesn’t show up. This is completely inappropriate to be asking opposing counsel”

“Does Saul Goodman know where Officer Kirk is?” Ericsen made no pretense of the fact that she was asking the same question twice, just slightly reworded.

“No! He does not! I think he would have told me if he did” Kim was under no obligation to answer that last question, but she didn’t feel like playing games. The honest truth was she had shown up today, fully expecting to face the brute on the stand. It was short notice, but if she could file a missing witness charge, that would be good news for Lynn. But the fact remained that the pig’s disappearance was a coincidence! This one was clean of any meddling, from her or her partner.

“Two months! Two months I’d been speaking with him, and he was nothing but willing and able to testify against Percival. I know the signs of when a witness is getting cold feet. When an officer goes missing right before a trial, he doesn’t answer his phone, there are no reports of being injured-on-duty, no hospitalization records in the whole county, and even his relatives can’t explain why he never came home from work yesterday, that starts to look like something else. I’ve seen it before, but this is not cold-feet”

“If you’re accusing my defendant of foul-play, I’d remind you that she cut all ties with gang affiliation after she was released on parole. Putting herself at great risk too, I would add”

“No, I might not have as much sympathy for Percival as you do, but I do pity her. Living in the gutter, getting by day-by-day. If I were writing the laws, I’d categorize severe depression as enough to reduce someone to an animalistic state, to the point where mens rea can’t be proven. But I don’t. And the fact is that Percival struck Kirk in the stomach first, and even if Percival is not a sophisticated criminal, she was still sane enough to understand what she was doing. The point being I agree; she’s not a mastermind, and she currently has no connections to someone who would do this for her. So no… I’m not accusing your client of anything” Ericsen shot Kim the side-eye.

“Again, I’d blame the precinct,” Kim deflected, “It’s not like there’s any shortage of organized crime in this city. Who knows who might have intercepted him, or what he might have done to provoke them? It’s a hazard of the occupation. OR! Maybe he was cooperating with you, then realized how hard perjuring himself would be when the rape was caught on camera, and he decided to hop a plane to Grenada instead. Because frankly I wouldn’t be that worried if I were you. There wasn’t going to be much benefit to having him testify anyway”

Ericsen changed her posture. “How are you feeling, Kim? Are you ok?”

“I’m fine!” she snapped, “You’re like the eighth person to ask me that today. So if I’m sick of anything…!”

“I only ask because it seems like there’s something going around. Just the fall flu season, but a lot of people are out today. I’m kind of under the weather myself”

“I’m sorry” Kim shrugged.

There was a moment of impasse where it seemed the older woman was going to try to feel her belly.

“That’s alright,” the district attorney huffed, “I was just thinking to myself this morning, ‘You know what I need? More paperwork. I hope someone intimidates my officer so I can have to explain to Papadomian why my witness is a no-show’ “ She wandered off muttering to herself. She herself seemed a little off today.

An amorphous hope, a blip of a thought began to bubble up, that if Lynn’s hearing was postponed, maybe Kim could take a sick day after all. But before the hope had words, it was already dashed. The mobile phone in her jacket pocket began to vibrate. It was the office.

“Hello?”

“Hey Kim,” Franchesca fought through a yawn, “I’ve been trying to reach you. Your motion to bump up the Estrada trial was approved, but they insist on trying him as an adult”

“I’ll take it as a victory anyway. When is the date?”

“Next week, Monday the… um… the 15th!” rustling papers could be heard on the other end of the line.

“Today’s the 15th!”

“Oh crud… I’m really sorry. I’m really really sorry! The letter came in, and it sat on the pile, and you know usually I’m so on top of things, but-”

“Franchesca, Franchesca! It’s fine. It’s fall flu season. What’s the time?”

“12:15. Right now it’s 10:4-”

“I know. I only have a little over an hour to prepare. I think I can make it work”

“You’re really not mad?”

“A little”

“I’m sorry”

“Thank you, Franchesca”

*Click!*

She dialed Jimmy; she’d delegated the task of updating the Estrada brief to him, and even if he didn’t have it, she just needed to vent.

________________________________

But the cell phone was sitting on the car seat next to Saul’s briefcase, switched on silent mode. He didn’t hear it buzz.

“What do you mean Lalo’s not dead?” he asked Mike.

“Turns out he had a trap door installed in his bathroom, and a tunnel leading out from under his compound”

“Turns out” Jimmy repeated incredulously.

_____________________________

The phone just rang and rang and eventually went to voicemail. Kim gave up and started to seek out somewhere to sit down and write on the older version of the document, when the parasite in her belly decided to do a summersault. Suddenly a foot was on her bladder.

“Women’s Restroom Out of Order” said the sheet of notebook paper scotch-taped over the door.

“UNISEX” read the sign over the men’s room.

…

When she stepped out of the stall, Bill Oakley was loitering at the sink, washing his hands at the next basin over. It was a bit awkward having the bathrooms desegregated like this, especially given the lack of soundproofing, but they were all adults. Anyway, she was so nauseous she almost didn’t notice he was there at first. “Keep it together!” she commanded herself, “Get this done, then I have permission to pass out”. Something was wrong with her skirt. Ever since she had pulled it back up, it was painfully tight. She adjusted it and adjusted it in front of the mirror, but no matter what, the seams at the waist were threatening to split open. Was she still growing?! Totally illogical, Captain. Then again how did she account for last night? This whole thing felt like science fiction. And if her clothes couldn’t keep this existential crisis contained, what chance did her mind have? Too many questions were pulling her in a million different directions; it was better to keep them stuffed into the confines of the fabric and deal with them later when she got home. Bill looked her up and down, ponytail to flat dress shoe, with a nonplussed expression, and then finally broke the silence.

“Hey Kim… New haircut?” he asked with a tone drier than a saltine.

For the first time this morning, it cracked a smile across her face. “I know right?” she played along, “Probably the only thing left recognizable about me. Lop this off, and I could disappear into the crowd”

“Not on the 19th, you can’t! Martinelli? Let’s just say some details are going to come out in discovery, which I’m pretty sure you were trying to conceal. I was looking forward to the damage I was going to do to your pride”

“Not conceal! You and I just have differing opinions about whether the spring-gun should be treated as an assault with a deadly weapon. Because Martinelli thought it was a toy gun and it went off by accident, blame shifts to the manufacturer. When plead down to products liability, which is all this is, I’ve already given you all the relevant facts. Freely and openly! Anything more would be an unnecessary invasion of the defendant’s privacy”

“Yeah yeah, you can keep singing that song!” the DA taunted, “Until Wednesday! I recommend bringing some bactine!”

“All locker-room talk” she chuckled. She turned for the door, but stopped. “Thank you”

“For what?” Bill straightened his tie in his reflection.

“For not getting all touchy-feely about it. Everyone’s being sickeningly sweet to me today, and you’re the first person who’s talking normally. Even Howard’s being nice to me, but you know… it’s Howard. Even when he’s trying to be nice, he’s an asshole. It doesn’t even matter if he’s right about understanding what I’m dealing with; it’s none of his business. But he is right… My kingdom for a cigarette right about now”

“He’s probably just jealous,” Bill assessed.

“He’s welcome to trade places whenever he wants! I’m sure his life is so hard”

“He’s getting divorced, after all,” he shrugged.

“I didn’t know he was married,” Kim was taken aback.

“Yep. Looks like you get to have it all. Profitable career, big house, stable marriage, baby on the way? While some of us are about to lose everything. Some of us never had that much to start with”

Maybe she couldn’t bring herself to feel sorry for Howard, but she did feel pity for Bill! “At least you said you were moving to an office with a window, right?” she tentatively asked.

“They gave it to someone else”

“Jesus! I wish there was something I could do”

“Not unless you have any female friends you could set me up with?”

Kim thought for a moment to consider the question seriously. “Well I think you and Steph could potentially hit it off. But I doubt her wife would appreciate me giving you her number”

“Eh. I’m no-one’s type,” Bill had resigned himself to this fact years ago, “Honestly I’d settle for any male friends you have too. I don’t have any of those either”

“On second thought,” Kim retrieved a paper towel and a pen from her bag, “If you just want someone to talk to, I guess I don’t see the harm. The three of you kind of have the same sense of humor”

Oakley took the flimsy brown napkin with cherishment. Before the conversation could end, he had one last thing to add:

“Speaking of Howard,” he cleared his throat, “and speaking of butting in where I don’t belong, I might have been eavesdropping when Howard was making some rather frantic calls earlier this morning. He mentioned you more than a couple times”

“Who was he talking to?” she leaned against the wall.

“If I had to guess, probably Rebecca, right? There’s still unsettled business about McGill’s estate the four of you have been sifting through?”

“Howard’s been talking to Rebecca?”

“Kind of a lot. I assumed you knew”

“I haven’t been involved since the reading of the will. After the meeting with the scholarship board, we both decided we didn’t want anything else to do with it”

“Well whatever it was, he pretty adamantly wanted to call off the whole thing. Said something about not wanting to destroy an innocent life”

Kim’s stomach gave out an audible gurgle. This had been a nice distraction, but now the sinking feeling was back worse than before.

Between the heavy book bag slung over her shoulder and her shifting center of gravity, each step was becoming an increasingly precarious balancing act as she waddled back down the hallway, but Kim felt like she was starting to get the hang of it. She kept her free hand supporting the underside of her belly, both to keep her passenger calm and to keep the gray pencil skirt from beginning to ride down her hips.

Her house wasn’t that big - she thought - Howard’s house was still bigger. That wasn’t the point of course; she only needed one square acre to call home - one square acre she couldn’t be muscled out of - but still. She didn’t think she was being a pedant, to point out that anyone who still had a car to sleep in had not, in fact, lost everything yet. Hyperbolic claims of victimization like that only proved how sheltered someone really was. She knew so many people who were at the absolute bottom, and she’d been there herself; Howard was nowhere near that point of humility yet.

And as far as her profitable career? That wasn’t what it seemed either. She had money now, sure, but at what cost? Never being able to dismiss a bump in the night again. It’d cost her peace of mind, sleep. Ever since childhood, she’d wanted to live in a movie, but now that the movie had finally begun, she’d do anything to go back to normal. Ever since her husband had retrieved that bail money for the cartel, they were both on a merry-go-round they couldn’t get off of. Really, it was the state of New Mexico’s fault. If they just paid their public defenders a living wage, this all could have been avoided.

The stability of her marriage? That was something that was hard to quantify. It wasn’t close to perfect, but she didn’t necessarily expect better. Of course she and Jimmy were always on the outs, of course they argued constantly; they met at work; fighting was the relationship. But they did see eachother, in ways the rest of the world didn’t, so she really wouldn’t have had it any other way. The man was so much more than a 2-bit con-artist. He was sweet, and loyal, and he actually gave a damn about people. He gave a damn about the depths of rage she concealed under her smile.

... And the baby? The baby! … was a Metaphor…

Somewhere nearby, someone’s cell phone was going off. At least that’s what she thought at first; the tinkling bells were oddly familiar…

La la la la la la la. La la la la la la la…

In the periphery of her vision, an old woman was sitting on one of the benches holding a hand mirror. As Kim walked past her, the mirror caught a light beam from the window and… OW! Kim’s hand flew to cover her right eye. The flash was worse than blinding; something sharp had buried itself under her eyelid. She wanted to dismiss it as an eyelash refusing to lay flat, but no, she was pretty sure she was bleeding. Limping, blinking frantically, trying to avoid suits coming the opposite way as she found a corner of the hallway to pull over. And then as quickly as it had started, the pain was gone. The tears in her hand were crystal clear, no blood, so she couldn’t explain what had just happened. But the air in the hallway was suddenly several degrees cooler, and as the buzzing of the fluorescent lights overhead pulsated in and out, the sound resembled a gravelly voice.

WITCH! WITCH!

The chill passed. Nobody else seemed to have noticed the power surge.

David Estrada (16) was waiting to meet her, standing just inside the bounds of the metal detectors.

“What the hell is this?” Kim criticized his wardrobe as she approached, “David, I thought we talked about this. Suit? Tie? Loafers? Professional clothes! Jeans and a dress shirt at worst!”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Wexler,” came his mealy-mouthed answer, “You know I tried to look for some church-clothes, but your secretary only called me today saying the court hearing was today. And besides, last time you lent me a tie. I wasn’t sure if we were doing that again”

She had been very explicit about the fact that David needed to get his own tie. She looked over his outfit; the camo cargo shorts, the white wifebeater. “At least give me the gold chain,” she ordered.

“Isn’t the whole point of court to represent yourself as you are?”

“Nope!” Kim kept her palm outstretched expectantly. David groaned but relinquished the necklace.

“Well this is who I am…” Estrada stubbornly finished the thought under his breath.

There was no time left for debate. The defense scrambled to their table just before the bailiff announced the entrance of the judge.

“All rise. The honorable Judge Toledo presiding”

The justice was an unfamiliar face to Kim. Weathered and sagging, though he couldn’t be more than 55. It looked as if his pale jowled face was sculpted by filling a nylon stocking with tofu. Maybe he had lost weight recently, but his skin had not yet gotten the memo. A broom of fire-engine red hair sat lopsided on his head like a crown of straw. His eyes were tiny blue marbles.

“David Estrada…” Toledo began, but the defendant shot to his feet and blurted out, “Not guilty!”

Kim put a hand on his shoulder to let David know he should sit back down; “Please excuse my client’s exuberance. As you can see, he’s very young and his only experience with criminal procedure comes from television. (. . .) We are actually prepared to take a plea deal on counts 1 and 2; the malicious mischief and the criminal trespass. We are only contesting count 3; larceny”

“I see. And in pre-trial, you stated that you also wished to contest count 4. Is that still correct?”

**Count 4?**

The color began to rise in her cheeks as she burrowed back into her notes. She found the old brief, but it only mentioned charges 1-3! What was Count 4?! Clearly, she knew enough about it at some point to submit a plea. The domino effect of the day’s failures, delays, procrastinations and miscommunications were finally gaining momentum. Was this the result of deliberately pouring alcohol on her memory each night, or was 221 cases maybe just too many cases for any one person to juggle in a month? Hard to say whether her nerves upset the fetus or the other way around, but now there was a dull stabbing pain developing under her kidney. Toledo glared at her before impatiently turning his attention back to the district attorney.

“Hello, everyone,” began the prosecutor, “My name is Simon Rodriguez. I represent the district of San Berndillio county and the state of New Mexico, and it’s ironic the defense should characterize her client as ‘young and inexperienced’, as Mr. Estrada has in fact committed this exact crime already once before. The prosecution will show that at 2:43 pm, Tuesday, October 19th, 2004, Mr. Estrada picked up a cinder block and threw it through the front window of Jared's Jewelry on 2260 Louisiana Blvd. It was his intent to smash the glass of the property then, during the confusion, enter and steal a diamond and silver necklace costing $3,850. This act constituted a criminal trespass and Mr. Estrada did this while the business was open and operating. As a result, the victim, Ms. Bellamy, sustained lacerations on her face and arms from the broken glass…”

Ok now Kim was sure this was the first mention of a fourth charge against David. If Count 4 was a battery, which is what the prosecution seemed to be asserting, they would have needed to notify her about the witness ahead of time. And she was certain she’d never seen this woman before in her life. The prosecutor was a stranger too. Rodriguez kept smugly staring daggers at her as he gave his opening argument. It wasn’t clear what, but he seemed to expect something more than to just win the case. The man looked like an elf, with warm brown eyes, a sharp little face, and a cap of black hair greased down like he was Dracula. While his stature was reminiscent of a lawn jockey, something about the way he smoothly paced the floor made his legs look much longer than the rest of him. In truth, something about him reminded her of Lalo Salamanca, and that only made the baby kick more anxiously in protest.

“Objection!” Kim heaved herself into a standing position, “m-MMMs. Bellamy is a surprise witness. The defense has not been given time to prepare a cross examination, and therefore her testimony should be inadmMMMhis…able”

“Overruled. You had the opportunity to object to this witness in pre-trial. The court cannot make exceptions to accommodate your lack of organization, Ms. Wexler”

That was odd, she thought! She’d been nervous in court more times than she could count, but never before had she developed a stutter like that. She coughed repeatedly, trying to clear her throat from whatever had caused her to get caught on her M’s like that. When she glanced back into Mr. Rodriguez’s eyes, the ethereal tune from that horror movie last night started to ring in her ears again.

La la la la la la la. La la la la la la la.

“The court will now hear the opening arguments of the defense”

She stood up again and cleared her throat. “Good afternoon. I’m Kim Wexler, co-council for the defense. Yes, it is true that David Estrada broke the window of the jewelry store. Yes, it is true that because he entered the store illegally, this was trespassing. But! Any intent to commit larceny had already been abandoned by the time he entered the premises. Store security footage shows that the defendant touched the necklace, but never asported it. The burden is on the prosecution to prove that Estrada at any point intended to permanently deprive “Jared’s” of its property. At worst, he is guilty of an abandoned attempt. As for the battery charges? There is an issue of transferred intent because her injuries occurred during the commision of a separate crime, but my client is innocent until proven guilty”

At this, David interjected, “Yeah! And let the record show I only grabbed the necklace as an act of protest!”

Kim rubbed the palms of both her hands against her forehead slowly. With a gritted smile, she requested a recess.

“Sustained. But you only have three minutes”

She grabbed David by the arm and pulled him back out into the hallway outside the courtroom. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” she confronted him.

“Do you know where that diamond necklace came from?! I Googled it! De Beers relies on slavery in the Congo to this day to make a profit. And then more slavery in India to assemble the jewelry. And the courts’ attitude is that as long as it happens overseas, and as long as they’re importing the rocks from middlemen, it’s legal! I wasn’t trying to hurt that lady, but if I ruined her fancy romantic shopping spree because she was standing too close to an artifact of human rights abuses, I can’t sincerely say I’m sorry”

“Do you really want to do the ‘This whole system is out of order!’ thing today? Fine! I’ll go home and eat Cheerios, and you can represent yourself. I would love to be doing that instead right now”

“Not like it would be much difference! All you’ve done is sit there and agree with the prosecutor. Is that what they teach you in law school? How to take it like a bitch?!”

“I have done nothing but bend over backwards for you since we met. Most public defenders would have mentally checked out the moment you rejected a full plea deal and insisted on taking this to trial. I told you it was a bad idea. And yet here I am. Angry that you were stupid enough to commit the same crime twice, angry that you couldn’t just keep your nose clean and work for your grandfather like I told you to, angry that all the strings I pulled for you the first time have been thrown out the window. But I’m here!”

“Oh yeah, thanks so much for that, by the way! That’s right, I took your advice the first time. I went back to my grandpa and begged for a job. I mopped the floors like you said. I scrubbed the toilets like you said. Picked up a pretty nasty stomach virus in the process too. But what you might not have counted on is that my grandfather is an abusive prick!”

“He was the only one who was willing to bail you out for the first cinder block, and he bailed you out this time too”

“You’re right! He has money! He must be a saint. Look I don’t know what nice-guy act he gave you, but you don’t know what he’s like behind closed doors. Are you really going to tell me to go back to him? Like that’s helping keep my life on track? Do you want that on your conscience? If so, I think I’d rather go to jail. I can’t drop the soap no matter where I go; at least in prison it wouldn’t be incest. I mean we all knew it was alway going to be this way anyway, right? Forget protecting people; god forbid an international corporation loses a few shiny stones”

Kim sighed. This was at the same time the most rewarding aspect of working with minors, and the most exhausting. The world hadn’t yet sanded their dreams and principles down to a tiny nub. The job meant having to convince them that putting a little faith into the justice system to work as intended was not, in fact, emblematic of the rise of a fascist dictatorship. Only when we lose faith and start resorting to extralegal methods of expression, is fascism empowered.

“... How much do you need?” she asked in a hushed tone.

“Huh?”

“I can get you emancipated. We can press charges against your grandfather. Find a motel room to move into. I can support you if you promise to stay out of trouble. I’ll write you a check every month. You can start looking into correspondence school. You made a mess in there trying to self-advocate, but you clearly have critical thinking skills. You could go be a lawyer too. I don’t want to see you throw your life away. I admire your passion, and it’s not even that you’re wrong about De Beers. All I’m asking for is a little patience, and for now you let me do the talking”

“I don’t want your money. I want you to do your job. There’s an angle to this, about how I wasn’t stealing the necklace, I was stealing it back. Or… or it’s a free speech issue or something. There’s an angle that could work”

In terms of rule statements, David was objectively wrong. Even if the courts weren’t corrupt, larceny of stolen property was not a defense. A defender would have to be out of her mind to try that strategy. But it was hard not to respect the mischievous, optimistic glint in the kid’s eyes.

“Come on, Ms. Wexler. You know I’m right!”

After much grumbling, she nodded and gave a flat “OK”. Just as her phone buzzed that the three minutes were up.

…

The prosecution called the witness, a glassy-eyed woman named Dawn Bellamy, to the stand. Mostly, Dawn just stared off into the distance with a naive grin, but while being sworn in, she perked up at the mention of god. Her testimony revealed that she had been standing over twelve feet away from the window when it broke. In fact, in Kim’s opinion, the “lacerations” on her face and arms looked more like acne. On cross examination, Kim asked Dawn if she had seen any medical experts about her injuries. Dawn said she did, and presented a note which was (a) written on blank paper as opposed to any physician’s stationary, and (b) not at all specific about what happened to her skin. When Kim requested that Toledo read the letter himself and wait for verification that Dr. Patcher was a licensed doctor before admitting it into evidence, the judge took one brief glance at the note, stated “It doesn’t look like anything to me”, and treated the note as admissible. Then the case took a sharp turn! The witness revealed that she was one month pregnant at the time of the larceny. This led to a protracted and uncomfortable debate about whether Estrada should have known she was pregnant based on her appearance. And Rodriguez acted supremely smug as he made an extremely bizarre decision; he drew a parallel to Sherwood v. Walker to argue that because Dawn’s status as a pregnant woman was a substantial fact, the court should rule based on her status at the time, not based on Estrada’s mistaken belief.

Oh come on, she thought. He didn’t have to make it so easy: “Motion for jury instruction: Sherwood v. Walker set the precedent for mistake of fact in contract law. It has no holding on a criminal case. Not to mention it’s a Michigan case and has no control over New Mexico jurisdiction”

“Motion Denied. Legal precedent can be extrapolated from contract law”

“I’m not even asking that Mr. Rodriguez should amend his conclusion. McDuffie v. State sets a clear precedent that battery against a pregnant victim is a violent felony under the American Career Criminal Act. But McDuffie had reason to believe his victim was pregnant, plus he punched her in the stomach, plus she suffered a miscarriage. Here, the victim suffered no damages”

“Motion Denied”

“Mm- (cough) My concern, your honor, is that when you bring in comparisons to Sherwood, you treat the value of life as too specifically quantifiable. The crime of battery is no longer an offense against a person, but against their value as a commodity to produce value in the future. It’s important to treat a battery against an individual woman the same as a battery against a lone man, and take into account any additional statutes elevating the victim’s status as a protected class. We must treat these protected class statutes as what they are - nothing more, nothing less - when determining a fair sentence. Because the alternative is a double standard in the law that does not, in fact, elevate a pregnant woman’s value above a man’s, but cuts the value of every nonpregnant woman in half. After all, before Walker knew Rose was a fertile cow, he was preparing to send her to the slaughterhouse. I can’t imagine translating such a precedent for livestock onto humans”

She was sweating profusely under these lights. She wanted to take her jacket off, but underneath, she could feel that her boobs had outgrown and spilled out over the top of her blouse. Her shirt and her bra had twisted together into a bunched up wring of fabric, and her skin itched. It was breaking her concentration something awful the way beads of moisture dripped from her underarms.

Toledo beckoned her close to the bench and growled, “Do you want to be held in contempt?”

“NoooOOOOOhh!” The sound that came out of her was deep and animalistic. It worried her how good it felt. That is to say, it made the stomachache much more bearable as a wave of pleasure radiated through her.

“Good. As I was saying, I am prepared to adopt that precedent. As recent as Dred Scott v. Sandford, the US has recognized a value innate to the labor a person could potentially provide in the future…”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing! She had stood at this table plenty of times, and tolerated old white men vomiting bad standup comedy or failed slam poetry in place of judicial analysis. But this… this was something new! What was even happening?! Who was this guy and what did he think he was doing?!

She opened her mouth to point out the painfully obvious - that the case had been overturned by constitutional amendment over a century ago - but the words wouldn’t cooperate. Her own throat and tongue were betraying her, and all she could say was “Moo! MOOOO!”

Rodriguez continued to lecture the jury about how frail and fragile Ms. Bellamy was. How - seemingly as an act of property damage against Mr. Bellamy - the battery was a serious offense. Kim wanted badly to interrupt him by screaming that the woman was not weak and by extension neither was she, but it was hard to say that convincingly, when she was gripping the banister, fighting vertigo just to find her way back to her seat. The cramp refused to let up. She felt incredibly bloated, and the muscles in her thighs and abdominals were straining under the building feeling of pressure.

She was being scrutinized from every angle; the stubborn incumbency of Judge Toledo, the vacant, placid gaze of the witness, Mrs. Bellamy, David - who wanted to be respectful and avert his gaze, but as a teenage boy - he lacked impulse control, the malicious stare of the district attorney, and finally, the jury, who were seeming more and more 2-dimensional by the moment.

Rip! Rip! Ping! Ping! Ping!

The pencil skirt ripped in two places on both sides of her ass, and the buttons on her jacket shot off in the direction of the gallery. Her massive ripe melon of a stomach hung out for the whole court to see. Veiny stretch marks which hadn’t been there this morning were sprouting up from her pelvis. With her naked breasts exposed, it was obvious that the dampness was not just from her sweat. Her tits felt huge, pendulous, and sore, and milk was starting to leak from her browning nipples. She gasped for air, finally able to breathe freely for the first time this morning. Toledo had abandoned all pretense of professionalism and was leaning out of his seat to get a better view of her. Rodriguez was visibly pitching a tent, and he was just shaking his head side to side as if to say “I told you so”.

At that moment, she was released from the hex on her vocal chords. She straightened her posture. Kim’s face was beet red, nevertheless she tried to keep her head held high.

“If I may please,” she spoke slowly, loudly, and deliberately, “request a recess to change my clothes”

“Uh… Sustained…” Toledo banged the gavel, “I think we got everything we needed. This trial will resume at some time next month”

“Thank you” our heroine said with as much decorum as she could muster. She marched out, holding her left arm over her boobs and keeping the dregs of her skirt together with her right.

David watched her leave, and it took a minute before it occurred to him that he should follow her into the hallway. He found her gulping down water at the fountain and tugged on the sleeve of her jacket.

“What the hell happened?!”

“I don’t know,” Kim answered, exasperated.

“Well are you going to be okay?!”

“I don’t know”

“What do I do now?!”

“The trial will resume in a month. Silver lining, this gives us more time to prepare… I must be having a bad dream. This is all just too weird”

“You think?”

“No. I mean I know every judge in this court. Every district attorney. And I’d never seen either of those guys before. That man did not conduct himself like an experienced judge”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know. Best case scenario, we can file a complaint and appeal. Worst case scenario… I just don’t know. Nothing about this was normal”

“Are you scared?”

Their eyes locked, “Don’t do anything until I figure this out, promise? Then you can throw as many bricks as you want”

She turned and headed for the exit at the end of the hallway. When she started to feel tears of humiliation run down her cheeks, she picked up her pace. By the time she reached the door, she was running to escape.

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