Fracture Monologues

An attorney intending on climbing the career ladder toward success finds an unlikely opponent in a manipulative criminal he is trying to prosecute.

Even a broken clock is right twice a day.

You know, my grandfather was an egg farmer.

No, I used to candle eggs at his farm. Do you know what that is? You hold an egg up to the light of a candle and you look for imperfections. The first time I did it he told me to put all the eggs that were cracked or flawed into a bucket for the bakery. And he came back an hour later, and there were 300 eggs in the bakery bucket. He asked me what the hell I was doing. I found a flaw in every single one of them - you know, thin places in the shell; fine, hairline cracks. You look closely enough, you'll find that everything has a weak spot where it can break, sooner or later.

I've already found yours.

I love you. Does he?

You really need to be nice to me now, Willy.

Because… what's left of a life depends on a machine powered by a cord that leads to a plug in an electrical outlet… and I decide when it gets pulled. That's why.

I'm sorry, your honor, but what would you call it, legally, when the officer who arrested you was having sexual intercourse with your wife? You know, I think it's objectionable. It's rather disgusting is what I think, but uh... I dunno; maybe I'm wrong!"

And the look on his face, oh. He was trying to get her back to life. And I was pissing myself laughing. Because I took both the bastards out with one fucking bullet.

My dick, my private investigator. I call him Dick. Perhaps I should call him as a rebuttal witness, because since the tragedy, um, he's dug up hotel records and witnesses that confirm that my wife and Mr Nunally were having an affair. My dick is good.

My Dick is good.

Nicely done, Willy. Truly. A regular chain of evidence. Great stuff. Vivid. Heartbreaking. The victim cries out from beyond the grave. Yeah. Jurors love all that sort of crap, don't they? I bet you don't even need a confession anymore, do you, Willy? I tell you what, though, old sport. Let's make you a new one just in case. The real deal, all the juicy details. You can get your rocks off on that, then, can't you? Huh? I shot my wife in the face, right there. She didn't look so pretty after that. And l stood there looking down at her... and l watched her eyes go all empty. I could smell the blood and the shit. Smelled like metal. And the look on his face! He was trying to get her back to life and l was pissing myself laughing... because I took both the bastards out with one fucking bullet. Yeah. And now you've got your little bullet, haven't you? Got what you want. So bring it all on, kiddo. Bring it all into court. Except you can't, can you? Let's see, now, first year law, double jeopardy. I went to trial, you lost. Oh, pity about that. It doesn't matter what you do now. It doesn't matter what you know. I mean, she could come back from the dead, you see... and testify, spill the beans, and it would mean... nothing. So you can't touch me... ever.