Chapter 14: The Hunters Hunted

Hunter had slept in some uncomfortable places before. 

During his outdoor adventures, he’d closed his eyes in tents that had been pitched on rough surfaces. He’d slept without sleeping bags. He’d even climbed a tree with his sleeping bag and belted himself into one of the stronger branches. That hadn’t exactly been a restful night, for obvious reasons.

But none of it could compare to spending the night in jail.

It did not matter that Hunter had no cellmate. The artificial lights of the Coronet City precinct did not dim even slightly, making it hard to know what time it was in the absence of a clock. The room had a bed resembling a weight bench and a toilet – that was it.

Hunter barely slept a wink that night, tossing and turning as much as the narrow bed would permit. It didn’t exactly help that he knew the reason why he was in jail.

For the past month, Hunter, Manuel, and Xander had been ordered to remain in Coronet City so that they could assist in the investigation of Spencer Teller’s disappearance. They were still permitted to attend their GPU courses remotely, but they weren’t allowed to travel more than a certain distance outside of the city limits. This also included no skiing, not that the prospect of hitting the slopes was as appealing as it had been before that event.

Now, the stated reason for the boys’ confinement in Coronet City had been so that they could help the police with their investigation. But the authorities weren’t fooling anybody with that claim, least of all Hunter. 

They wanted Spencer’s friends all there so that, in the event that they found evidence linking one of them to foul play, they could be arrested on the spot. They’d be handcuffed, sent to jail, and then a series of court dates would be arranged during which they’d have to plead their case and argue that actually, it wasn’t their fault that Spencer was gone. 

That process had been set in motion last night.

Hunter could still remember the dread that had filled his entire body as the door to his hotel room was knocked so loudly, it might as well have been with a battering ram. He’d sprung off his bed and tiptoed to the door, as though making too much noise might get him in trouble with the big ‘mon upstairs (that being Arceus).

A police officer had been waiting on the other side of the doorway, carrying a sheet of paper and a no-nonsense attitude. 

“What’s this about?” Hunter had enquired, trying to play dumb.

But the cop wasn’t having any of it. Instead, the man in blue had simply brandished the document, revealing that it was a warrant for Hunter Hawkeye’s arrest. 

Hunter’s stomach had dropped as though he were on a roller coaster, though with none of the excitement associated with such an activity. His knees had buckled, and he’d grabbed onto the door for support.

In the end, he’d had no choice but to submit to the handcuffs. He could have resisted arrest, but that would have gotten him nowhere, since the officer had likely brought backup. Hunter could not have hidden from law enforcement forever, and once he was found, that would only make his case worse.

As Hunter was led awkwardly down the hallway, past the peeling paint of this extended-stay hotel, he shivered. Not from the cold; if anything, it was hot and stuffy in this establishment. Rather, he couldn’t help but picture his future being ruined.

No more hunting trips. No more days spent walking in the woods. No more college classes, not that those were very exciting anyway. And no more time with his friends, who’d be quick to cut him off assuming they weren’t arrested themselves.

There had not been many people in the hotel’s lobby to witness Hunter’s arrest, save for the other police officers. Traffic on the Coronet City streets, however, had been heavy, as it often was in the evening. 

“Can I post bail tonight?” Hunter asked the officer driving the police car during a particularly long red light.

The officer snorted. “Oh, does little Hunty want an evening with his mommy and daddy? Does he wanna sweep in his own bed?”

Hunter cringed at this mocking treatment, but refused to let himself blush. He would not betray that it bothered him, because that would just goad the officer further into such language.

“No” the officer continued eventually, this time in a more business-y tone. “You can’t post bail tonight. Just because your daddy’s a millionaire doesn’t mean you get special treatment. You’re gonna spend the night in jail just like everyone else.”

As with other defendants, Hunter was allowed a brief visit from his friends. Neither of his parents were able to make it up to Coronet City (understandably so, given the distance from Pastoria), but Xander and Manuel sat in the visiting room when Hunter arrived.

For nearly a minute (ten percent of the time they’d been allotted), none of the boys said anything. It was Manuel who broke the silence eventually.

“We’re wasting time,” he muttered. “And we don’t have a lot of that.”

Xander chuckled, evidently trying to inject some levity into a situation that contained very little of it. “It’ll go up in flames like the pets you cremate, Manuel”.

Hunter knew how Xander Canaan operated: The worse the situation at hand, the worse the joke. The quip about Manuel’s profession didn’t exactly inspire confidence.

When that joke fell flat, Xander evidently decided that stronger medicine was needed.

“Two Magikarp are in a tank, right?” he began. “One of them turns the other and is like, How do I drive this thing?”

Hunter narrowed his eyes, determined not to bang his fist on the table – this would likely summon the officer, who could hear their whole conversation. Many things could be found in jail, but privacy wasn’t one of them.

“That’s not funny,” Hunter muttered. 

“Sorry about that,” Manuel said. 

Hunter frowned. “Why are you the one apologizing?”

“Look, Hunter,” Xander stated, “we’re going to fight this. We’ll be by your side. None of us know why Spencer disappeared that day, but arresting an innocent victim is not the answer.”

A proverbial light bulb went off in Hunter’s mind. That’ll be the perfect angle to play with the jury.

“That’s right,” Hunter said. “I’m the victim. We all are. Not only have we lost Spencer, but when all we’re trying to do is to mourn our friend, the justice system is persecuting us. It’s a giant witch hunt – that’s all it is.”

“This is all a missed steak,” Xander replied. “Not only do they have the wrong person, not that it’s anyone’s fault that he’s gone, but now you don’t get to eat steak tonight at Roy’s.”

Why the hell is he joking about something like this?

“I think you mean mistake,” Manuel told Xander. 

“I guess you’re right,” Xander replied with a sigh. “I didn’t mean to say missed steak as a joke.  I was being serious.”

Yeah, I’m SURE you were.

“So tomorrow’s the arraignment” Hunter said, trying to steer the conversation away from this topic. “And I’ve got to make the bail.”

“Do you want us to help you meet it?” Manuel asked.

Hunter shook his head. “My parents will take care of that. But I imagine I’ll still have to be in Coronet City for the duration – this is where I’m being tried.”

Manuel and even Xander seemed to understand this. Missing any court dates wouldn’t do Hunter any favors, even if he had the excuse of going home to his family.

“What’s your strategy going to be?” Manuel enquired.

Hunter laughed dryly. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll have to talk to a lawyer.”

It was then that one of the officers, a burly middle-aged man, came into the room and muttered as such: “I would advise Hunter Hawkeye here that anything he says can and will be used against him in a court of law. So he might as well remain silent if he’d like to.”

“I’m not going to remain silent,” Hunter asserted. “You guys are my friends.”

“I’m not,” the cop replied. “I have a job to do, after all.”

Very little was said during the next few minutes. Eventually, the same police officer made his way over to the table. “Are you three all done here?”

“I guess we are,” Xander said, serious for once. 

“Good, because you’re done whether you think you are or not. Visiting hours are over.”

Hunter was unceremoniously led back to his cell. As stated above, he barely slept that night – the pangs of anticipation were simply too great.

(Insert a horizontal line here)

The judge honked the horn as he negotiated the slick streets of Coronet City from behind his windshield. Traffic was severe, not that he would have expected anything else on such a day.

What made today so “special”? Well, simply put, it was the first day of one of the most high-profile trials in the city’s recent history. Therefore, it was no wonder that any number of news vans and civilians who wished to watch the trial would have turned out. To them, trials were all fun and games. To the judge, they were far from it.

He pulled into the parking garage for the courthouse. Yes, it was crowded, but those working at the court were given designated spaces on the first floor, so finding a spot wasn’t as stressful as it might have been.

Those defendants deserve to park far from the courthouse. It serves them right for being criminals!

Judge Bannock strode up the steps with all the confidence in the world. As tedious as his job could get, this was one part of it he actually enjoyed. There’s something about having a lot of authority that gives you a thrill, as you realize that you can do almost anything you might want.

He entered the break room for the court’s personnel, seeing that a box of donuts had been set out on the table. The judge scoffed at them.

“Donuts? Couldn’t you have found something better?”

One of the assistants, a woman who’d dyed her hair pink for the sake of levity, grimaced. “I thought they were your favorite.”

“They are! Which is why you have to stop buying them for this room!” Judge Bannock bellowed. “I’m on a health kick, okay?”

The assistant shrugged. “Well, you don’t have to eat them.”

“But I want to eat them. They’re awfully tempting. Anyway, Miss Sakamoto, we’ve got a bad case coming today. It’s a very bad case of everything wrong with society.”

Miss Sakamoto, naturally, didn’t seem to spend any time looking up what the court would consider today. Much like the jurors, she would remain oblivious to outside news about the case. Of course, she had a choice; the jury’s twelve members didn’t.

“And then,” Judge Bannock continued, “we have to deal with the Pokers and their right to their land! It’s like, they don’t know what to do with that land!”

At the word “Poker”, Miss Sakamoto visibly blanched. 

“Your Honor, it probably isn’t wise to use that word in court. It’s considered extremely offensive, just like the F-slur or the N-word.”

“With all due respect, Miss Sakamoto: You may be beautiful, but you aren’t the boss of me. I’m the boss of this courtroom, and I can use whatever words I like. I swear, Pokers don’t even seem to understand their own language!”

“You still have to maintain an appearance of impartiality,” Miss Sakamoto replied. “If you’re dropping slurs like that in front of the jury, they’ll have reason to think you’re not being fair.”

“How can you be fair to the Pokers without being honest with them? They can’t speak our language – we can’t understand what they’re even saying without a translation machine!”

“That is no reason not to treat them humanely.”

Judge Bannock laughed. “Humanely? Miss Sakamoto, they’re not even human! Surely it’s okay to use such words against them, because that’s what they are!”

“Whatever” Miss Sakamoto muttered, serving her boss his coffee. “It’s almost time for the first case of the day…”.

“I don’t need you to tell me that. It’s the arraignment in the criminal case of Coronet City v. Hunter Hawkeye. And then there’s a civil suit between Whitehall Village and the Dengar Corporation.” And then I’m done for the day, and then I have five more years of this, and then I get to retire to Alola.

“Fair enough,” Miss Sakamoto said. “I will see you here for lunch.”

Judge Bannock walked into the courtroom through the employees’ entrance. Entering the front of the room first made him feel honorable and important; he held his head up high, unlike the defendants, many of whom became prisoners. They always fixed their eyes directly at the ground as though they were ashamed of what they’d done to deserve this. Which they should be.

The courtroom was packed with reporters and civilians who’d come to watch the proceedings. Snow might have been falling outside the windows, but the courtroom was always kept uncomfortably cold during the winter months, the opposite during the warmer months. This was intended to make the defendant feel as uneasy as possible, which they deserved, since it served them right.

Judge Bannock banged his gavel against his desk. “Come on in, guys!” he asserted, not even bothering to use gender-neutral language.

In walked Hunter Hawkeye, flanked by two police officers who were each a few inches shorter than the defendant. Over the last month, since his original deposition, he didn’t seem to have shaved once. Hunter’s golden beard had grown to resemble that of someone who’d been lost in the wilderness for that period of time.

“Please sit” Judge Bannock ordered.

Hunter sat at the defense table, staring defiantly at the judge.

Judge Bannock narrowed his eyes into slits. You know, Mr. Hawkeye, I can make your life miserable if you give me a reason to. You’d be wise to remain cautious around me.

“All of us know why we are here” the judge muttered, rolling his eyes as he pictured the numerous formalities he was about to subject the room to. And yet, they had to be done.

Hunter’s eye twitched.

“We are here to discuss the arraignment of Indictment Number 92181, Coronet City v. Hunter Hawkeye, a single count of murder in the first degree…”.

Hunter gasped, springing to his feet. “Murder?”

The guards were rapt to attention, instantly bending the young man’s arms backward. Hunter was forced to sit down in order to prevent his shoulders from being dislocated.

“Yes, Mr. Hawkeye. Murder. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty!” Hunter all but shouted. “In fact, I’m innocent! I swear, I didn’t have anything to do with Spencer vanishing!”

Is it time to bring out Anubis? Yes, I think it is.

“Mr. Hawkeye,” Judge Bannock replied venomously, “I think I ought to acquaint you once more with my friend Anubis. I’ve got the leash.”

The judge picked Anubis’ leash off the floor and tied it to the edge of the banister. As such, the Lucario would have no option but to stare and seethe at the defendant. Anubis and Hunter would wear one another down.

Hunter flinched at the sight of the fierce Lucario, and he didn’t say anything further. Judge Bannock then continued.

“You have pleaded not guilty. Therefore, this case will go to trial. Now we’ll get around to the question of your bail. Prosecution, step in.”

A tall, skinny lady with white-blonde hair stomped one of her high-heeled feet before responding.

“Your Honor, I am Kelly Weldworth, representing Coronet City in this case. I will prosecute the case against Hunter Hawkeye. The prosecution is seeking a bail of five hundred thousand dollars, considering that this is a murder charge.”

Judge Bannock smiled. That sounded pretty reasonable to him; even if Hunter’s “alleged” crime was a first offense, it was still a very serious one. 

“Will the defense step in to contest this bail offer?” Judge Bannock replied, raising one of his eyebrows at Hunter. “Or are you going to rely on Daddy’s money to get you out of jail?”

The judge knew from many years of experience in the courtroom that most of the defendants who didn’t make bail left their trial through the same exit: The prisoner’s doorway. Of course, Hunter’s parents would probably do what they could to see the young man free temporarily. In the long term, though, he could not evade the long arm of the law.

Hunter gasped, standing up from the defense table to his full height. The defendant’s jaw dropped, and his eyes hung open as though they were being stretched by invisible forces to their maximum degree. They were also incredibly bloodshot, as though he’d slept poorly last night.

“I don’t have a lawyer, Your Honor!” Hunter exclaimed tearfully.

Judge Bannock rolled his eyes. “Have you considered, Mr. Hawkeye, that it’s possible no lawyer wants to defend you given what you’ve been charged with? Or is Daddy going to step in at the last minute and save you from these charges?”

Hunter didn’t reply, so the judge continued. 

“Mr. Hawkeye, there are some things money can’t rescue you from. The legal consequences of your actions are one of them. So if you know what’s good for you, you’re going to sit down and allow a public defender to be appointed for you.”

Hunter collapsed back into the chair at the defense table, and Judge Bannock smiled in a deadly manner. It was commonly believed that the public defenders were of a lower quality than the lawyers hired for tens of thousands of dollars by the white-collar criminals. A defendant stuck with such counsel was in a sorry state indeed.

“So nobody is here to speak for you?” Judge Bannock asked Hunter. (The judge may have known the answer, but he was still required to ask anyway for the sake of tradition).

As Anubis growled at the judge’s feet, Hunter shook his head. 

“In that case, bail will be set at half a million dollars. Until you meet that monetary threshold, you will remain in jail pending the trial.”

“Half…a…million” Hunter mouthed, glancing at the courtroom’s walls as though he thought they were about to close in on him any moment. (In a way, he wasn’t wrong about that).

“Daddy will have no problem with that” Judge Bannock replied, sticking his tongue out ever so slightly. “He’ll make sure his little Hunty is with him, though only for a short time.”

Judge Bannock ran a hand through his thinning brown hair, then readjusted his glasses. Considering that I’m getting close to sixty, I probably look pretty damn good for my age.

After bail was set, Hunter was handcuffed again and escorted out of the courtroom. He was heading back to jail until his daddy stepped in to bail him out of the pretrial lockup. 

Judge Bannock sighed with a smile. Forget five more years. I bet I could do this for fifty more years. This job is almost like my own Fountain of Youth – I probably look younger at age 59 than I did at 45!

This sentiment was short-lived, however, because as soon as Hunter was out of sight, the judge glanced at the device on his desk. It vaguely resembled a smaller version of a TV remote, so it should have been unremarkable. However, it served as a reminder of what was to come.

I have a feeling that this case is going to take a lot longer than the arraignment.

Nonetheless, Judge Bannock knew that delaying the opening statements wouldn’t absolve him of a responsibility to listen to those Pokémon speak in such an unintelligible language. The inevitable could only be deferred for so long, so he might as well get them over with.

“Come in!” the judge announced, banging his gavel.

From one side of the room, the defense team walked in. It consisted of two men – one of them was a short, bald individual with a white mustache and top hat. He wore a tuxedo and a confident smile, as though he felt certain he would win this case and relished the idea of toying with his opposition.

The other man on the defense team was considerably taller and had slightly darker skin than his teammate. That being said, you could not see much of his face, because it was nearly all covered in a white turban and scarf save for his eyes. It’s a wonder he can breathe through that thing.

“The judge recognizes those representing the Dengar Corporation in this case” Judge Bannock announced. “Richard Dengar, represented by attorney Anthony Monopoli. We are still waiting on the plaintiffs to file in…”.

They didn’t have to wait very long. The plaintiffs entered through a different doorway, consisting of a tall white Pyroar with an abundant mane and a very oddly-dressed Zoroark.

Judge Bannock had been told in advance that the plaintiff’s lawyer was known for his eccentric style. But even the judge, who thought he’d seen it all, gasped at just how far out of the ordinary this Zoroark had elected to make himself look.

He was decked out in a white lab coat and a sky blue hat that resembled that of a train conductor. In one arm he held a large black handbag containing numerous legal files and whatnot. Like Mr. Monopoli, this Zoroark smiled broadly, betraying confidence that he had everything it would take to win this case.

“The judge welcomes those representing Whitehall Village, who are the plaintiffs in this case. The plaintiff’s team consists of Mayor Barrett Pyroar of Whitehall Village, who is represented by land-rights attorney Jonas Zoroark.

“Now, I’ll set some things straight at the outset, just to make some things clear,” Judge Bannock announced. “It’s no secret that Pokémon, also known as Pokers -”.

Mayor Barrett growled, probably intending to say a few choice words to the judge. Of course, he could take advantage of the fact that Judge Bannock would remain none the wiser in terms of what he was saying. The Pyroar could have just wanted a pickle for all the judge knew.

“I’m sorry,” Judge Bannock replied (though he wasn’t actually sorry in the slightest). “I suppose I should have said, Pokémon can understand human languages. But as we all know, the reverse is not true. Therefore, both of our plaintiffs have consented to closed-captioning during these arguments, which will be displayed for all of us to see. That way, we’ll know what they are saying, and everybody wins. Well, except for the losers of this lawsuit!”

The judge had a chuckle at his little joke, but the plaintiffs didn’t appear amused. He then cleared his throat and pressed a button on his remote, a piece of technology that the primitive Pokémon living in the continent’s remote villages could never dream of possessing.

“This case,” Judge Bannock continued as the screen descended from the ceiling, “concerns one issue, and one issue only. The Dengar Corporation wishes to construct a gold mine in the highlands of Central Sinnoh, not far from Whitehall Village, in order to keep doing their job by providing jewelry to the people of Sinnoh. However, the Mayor of Whitehall has decided that he opposes this plan, so Mayor Barrett here has filed a lawsuit against the Dengar Corporation’s proposal.”

Mayor Barrett growled again, and his words showed up on the screen as follows: I didn’t file this suit alone. It was on behalf of my village, nearly all of whom voted in favor of seeing the Dengar Corporation in court.

“I will amend that statement” the judge responded. “It’s the village as a whole that opposes this plan. Maybe they just don’t know what is good for them.”

Jonas Zoroark raised a claw and humphed. Objection!

Judge Bannock raised an eyebrow. “What is your objection, Jonas?”

You are supposed to be impartial. This is meant to be a fair trial, but you don’t seem to be a fair judge.

The judge glared at the Zoroark. “Tell me this. If I’m such an unfair judge, as your kind seems to believe, why did you elect to bring this case in front of me? There are other judges in the Coronet City Circuit.”

Jonas did not respond; at least, not with words. His next grumble wasn’t loud enough for the closed-captioning software to decipher its meaning.

“Use your words, please” Judge Bannock replied with a snort. “That is, if you have any.”

That remark did not elicit the amount of laughter the judge had hoped, but that was hardly important. What truly mattered was that the opening arguments were about to begin, and the plaintiffs were supposed to go first.

“The representative of the plaintiff, please rise” Judge Bannock ordered.

Jonas Zoroark stood to his full height, tipping his conductor’s hat at the judge as though he were trying to display respect. And maybe he was, but if so, his previous words hadn’t exactly oozed that emotion.

“Please make your opening statement.”

Jonas grumbled, then responded with a series of garbled grunts that were somehow picked up and converted to digital text, clear as day for the audience to read.

My name is Jonas Zoroark, and I live in a community much like Whitehall. I graduated from law school and became a land-rights attorney representing clients much like Mayor Barrett who had similar concerns about their homes being under attack.

Recently, it came to our attention that the Dengar Corporation was planning to build a gold mine near Whitehall Village, a project we must vigorously oppose. The ecological damage from such a mine will last for generations, and in the context of our rapidly warming planet, may ultimately be irreparable. 

Over the course of the plaintiff team presenting its case, you will hear testimony from a variety of environmental experts and Pokémon activists who will demonstrate that in a just society as we claim to be, the mine not only should not be built, but cannot be built.

When Jonas paused, Judge Bannock shrugged. “Continue. Or is that all you wanted to say?”

I’m not done. You see, this mine would be constructed on a highly ecologically sensitive area. Not only do countless Pokémon species reside in the forest, but the mine would be built atop a Mystery Dungeon comprising some roughly one hundred floors. 

The audience, virtually all humans, gasped. Then, many of them (maybe even more than half) started breaking out into guffaws. The laughter in the air was so thick that a chainsaw would not have been sufficient to cut it.

“A Mystery Dungeon?” one of the men near the front of the courtroom bellowed. “Are you out of your mind, Jonas?”

Jonas swiveled in the man’s direction, a deadly glint in his teal eyes. Perhaps he was about to use an illusion to trap the man in his own mind – that was one of Zoroark’s more dangerous abilities.

Judge Bannock banged his gavel against the stand. “Order in the court, or I’ll send Anubis to chase you all out of the room!”

I don’t want to do that. But I will if I must, because otherwise I’ll probably be fired. And if I’m fired, I can’t keep doing this.

When the laughter subsided, the judge glared at the Zoroark over his glasses. “Are you certain that the mine’s proposed site is located over a mystery dungeon?”

Yes, Your Honor. Numerous independent researchers have confirmed this.

“But the existence of mystery dungeons,” the judge replied, “can be considered as not evidently true. Some would even say it’s evidently not true. There’s a difference, of course, but the absence of evidence is evidence of absence.”

Why would you expect to see evidence?

“Because if these alternate dimensions exist, that’s something we should know about” Judge Bannock muttered. “It would be a pretty big deal, probably the biggest news story of the last few years.”

Not necessarily. It could also be that the evidence exists, but you’re vain and blind to it. 

“Shut up, Jonas. I hate people who aren’t polite!” Judge Bannock exclaimed, banging his gavel again. A couple people in the gallery chuckled, but it was hardly a critical mass.

When the courtroom was silent again, the judge cleared his throat. “Look, Jonas. Let’s take a sober look at this. Why would there be a mystery dungeon in the forest that just so happens to be near the site of a proposed gold mine, and why does it matter?”

That teal glint in Jonas’ eyes returned, and this is how the Zoroark responded:

You wouldn’t want to mine a place called the Pit Of 100,000 Spiders, would you?

A chill ran down Judge Bannock’s spine, but he would not let it show in his face. He fixed his gaze squarely on Jonas and Mayor Barrett, then replied as follows:

“So far as I’m concerned, the notion that this mystery dungeon is full of spiders is just as baseless as the notion that it exists at all. Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence, Jonas – don’t they teach you that at law school?”

They do. But we have such evidence, Your Honor.

“You could’ve fooled me. Maybe your Poker law school doesn’t teach the same things mine did. In any case, is there anything else you wanted to say to make your case?”

That is all, Your Honor.

“So we have claims about mystery dungeons, a load of solid Tauros waste if I’ve ever seen one. I mean, trying to threaten me with such assertions – what do they think they’re playing at?”

We can hear and understand everything you say, you know.

After yelling some words that I dare not repeat here, the judge sighed. “Okay,” he said, “let’s move on to the defense team.”

Mr. Monopoli stood to his full height, which, admittedly, wasn’t very tall. But what the corporate attorney lacked in stature, he made up for in terms of radiating authority. He also smiled broadly as he made his case.

“I am a lawyer employed at the Dengar Corporation, and I’m here to say that the proposal should go through.”

Jonas glared at Mr. Monopoli. Isn’t that a conflict of interest, though?

Mr. Monopoli stiffened up, scratching his white mustache. “What do you mean?”

You need to recuse yourself from a case in which you have a vested interest in the outcome. That’s law school 101, Mr. Monopoli.

“Don’t we all have a vested interest in the outcome, though?” Mr. Monopoli enquired. 

Of course we do. Even you do, Mr. Monopoli. We need to leave behind a healthy planet for future generations, and that includes your grandchildren. If you know what’s good for you, you will let us win.

“But we need to make money” Mr. Monopoli stated matter-of-factly. “Besides, the whole world needs what we’re creating at the Dengar Corporation.”

Jonas bared his fangs. Jewelry? That’s what matters more than keeping the environment safe from the effects of your mine? Tell me, Mr. Monopoli, how will future generations judge you for letting this project go through?

“That’s for them to figure out,” the lawyer muttered. “Today belongs to all of us. And it’s not just about the forest, but it’s about the economy as well. This mine will create more than several hundred jobs – that is, seven hundred jobs.”

Those jobs could also be created in renewable energy. Don’t be so ridiculous.

As much as he was enjoying this drama, Judge Bannock knew that for the sake of his career, he had to end it quickly.

“I would like to know that both the plaintiffs and the defense team will have ample opportunity to make their positions known over the next few weeks. Today’s session should remain strictly focused on the opening statements rather than bickering.”

Even as he chastised the pair of lawyers, however, Judge Bannock was smiling. Whatever way this case went, he’d be fine. Who cared if a couple of Pokémon villages were displaced? 

“Today’s court session is adjourned. We will hear the first testimony tomorrow.”

Once the parties to the lawsuit had left the courtroom, Judge Bannock sighed, for there were still numerous more cases to go that day, none of which were likely to be as exciting.