The Devil’s Advocate Monologues

An exceptionally-adept Florida lawyer is offered a job at a high-end New York City law firm with a high-end boss--the biggest opportunity of his career to date.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I know you've spent all morning listening to Mr. Broygo talk; I know you're hungry; what I need to tell you won't take very long at all. I don't like Alexander Cullen. I don't think he's a nice person. I don't expect you to like him. He's been a terrible husband to all three of his wives; he's been a destructive force in the lives of his stepchildren; he's cheated the city, his partners, his employees. He's paid hundreds of thousands of dollas in penalties and fines over the years. I don't like him. I'm going to tell you some things during the course of this trial that are going to make you like him even less. But this isn't a popularity contest; it's a murder trial.

You know what scares me? I quit the case, she gets better... and I hate her for it. I don't want to resent her, John, I've got a winner here. I've got to nail this fucker down, do it fast, and put it behind me. Just get it done. Then - then. - put all my energy into her.

Men kill animals and eat their flesh. Phillipe Moyez killed a goat and he did it at home in a manner consistent with his beliefs. It's certainly not a religious practice performed by everyone, it's not as common as circumcision, it's not as common as the belief that wine transforms into blood, some people handle poisonous snakes to prove their faith, some people walk on fire. Phillipe Moyez killed a goat and he did it while observing his constitutionally protected beliefs. This case is not about keeping goats transporting goats or goat licensing, the city was clearly less concerned with the care of the animals than the manner in which they were slaughtered. The city timed this police action to catch my client exercising his constitutionally protected right to religious freedom.

Why not? I'm here on the ground with my nose in it since the whole thing began. I've nurtured every sensation man's been inspired to have. I cared about what he wanted and I never judged him. Why? Because I never rejected him. In spite of all his imperfections, I'm a fan of man! I'm a humanist. Maybe the last humanist.

Eddie Barzoon, Eddie Barzoon. Hah! Oh, I nursed him through two divorces, a cocaine rehab, and a pregnant receptionist. Heh. God's creature, right? God's special creature? Hah! And I've warned him Kevin, I've warned him every step of the way. Watching him bounce around like a fucking game, like a windup toy! Like 250 pounds of self serving greed on wheels. The next thousand years is right around the corner, Kevin, and Eddie Barzoon-take a good look, because he's the poster child for the next millennium! These people, it's no mystery where they come from. You sharpen the human appetite to the point where it can split atoms with its desire, you build egos the size of cathedrals, fiber-optically connect the world to every eager impulse, grease even the dullest dreams with these dollar-green, gold plated fantasies until every human becomes an aspiring emperor, becomes his own god, and where can you go from there? And as we're scrambling from one deal to the next, who's got his eye on the planet? As the air thickens, the water sours, and even the bees honey takes on the metallic taste of radioactivity. And it just keeps coming, faster and faster. There's no chance to think, to prepare. It's buy futures, sell futures, when there is no future! We got a runaway train boy, we got a billion Eddie Barzoons all jogging into the future. Every one of 'em getting ready to fist-fuck god's ex-planet, lick their fingers clean as they reach out toward their pristine, cybernetic keyboards to total up their billable hours. And then it hits home! You gotta pay your own way, Eddie. It's a little late in the game to buy out now! Your belly's too full, your dick is sore, your eyes are bloodshot, and you're screaming for someone to help! But guess what? There's no one there! You're all alone, Eddie. You're god's special little creature. Maybe it's true, maybe god threw the dice once too often. Maybe he let us all down.

Let me give you a little inside information about God. God likes to watch. He's a prankster. Think about it. He gives man instincts. He gives you this extraordinary gift, and then what does He do, I swear for His own amusement, his own private, cosmic gag reel, He sets the rules in opposition. It's the goof of all time. Look but don't touch. Touch, but don't taste. Taste, don't swallow. Ahaha. And while you're jumpin' from one foot to the next, what is he doing? He's laughin' His sick, fuckin' ass off! He's a tight-ass! He's a SADIST! He's an absentee landlord! Worship that? NEVER!

You sharpen the human appetite to the point where it can split atoms with its desire; you build egos the size of cathedrals; fiber-optically connect the world to every eager impulse; grease even the dullest dreams with these dollar-green, gold-plated fantasies, until every human becomes an aspiring emperor, becomes his own God… and where can you go from there?

A woman's shoulders are the front lines of her mystique, and her neck, if she's alive, has all the mystery of a border town. A no-man's land in that battle between the mind and the body.

Don't get too cocky my boy. No matter how good you are don't ever let them see you coming. That's the gaffe my friend. You gotta keep yourself small. Innocuous. Be the little guy. You know, the nerd… the leper… shit-kickin' surfer. Look at me.

Underestimated from day one. You'd never think I was a master of the universe, now would ya?

There's this beautiful girl just fucked me forty ways from Sunday… we're done, she's walking to the bathroom, she's trying to walk, she turns… she looks… it's me. Not the Trojan army just fucked her. Little ol' me. She has this look on her face like: "How the hell did that happen?"

Well, on a scale of one to ten… ten being the most depraved act of sexual theatre know to man… one being your average Friday night run-through at the Lomaxes' household… I'd say, not to be immodest, Mary Ann and I got it on at about… Seven!

It's your wife, man. She's sick, she needs you… she's got to come first. Ah, wait a minute, wait a minute. You mean the possibility of leaving this case has never even entered you mind?

And as we're straddling from one deal to the next, who's got his eye on the planet, as the air thickens, the water sours, and even the bees' honey takes on the metallic taste of radioactivity? And it just keeps coming, faster and faster. There's no chance to think, to prepare; it's buy futures, sell futures, when there is no future.

What can I say? Outstanding, go figure it a guy like Moyez living in some subterranean shithole. All the while he's walking around with fifteen million dollars in the bank

What do you think he's paying us in? Goat's blood? We're billing you out at four hundred an hour I don't see a lot of pro bono work in you immediate future that's your only weakness as far as I can see What is that? It's the look, that Florida stud thing: "Excuse me ma'am did I leave my boots under your bed?"