If you haven’t already figured it out, Coco’s not the only one who has letters she’ll never send.
The other foals had all left almost an hour ago, but Cameo had told Babs to meet her there, and the filly didn’t exactly trust her instincts enough to go out to her shop alone. She wasn’t quite sure of everything that was going on—all she’d gotten was a few cryptic letters during class from both of her mothers—but from what she did know, Coco hadn’t been holding up well since she’d made a breakthrough in the case. Babs didn’t even know what it was or why it’d gotten Coco out of her hopeful mood, but she owed it to everypony around her to stop it in her tracks.
This would be different from the other times she tried to save her mother from the Oranges. As long as she wasn’t working alone, ponies like Midsweet couldn’t stop her in her tracks anymore. And, even if they did, she had a special trap card this time.
As she waited, Babs flipped through the pages of a notebook, bound with special leather to differentiate it from all the spiral ones she used for class. She’d started it as soon as she’d escaped from Midsweet’s sight—almost three weeks ago, she realized in shock. It was hardly a secret from the ponies who lived with her, but even then, she wouldn’t trust anypony else she knew to read it and see her weakness.
About forty pages of it were already filled, many of them already torn slightly from the quill piercing the parchment a little too roughly. The first was embossed in italics with that single warning statement, and Babs rushed straight through it to get to page number forty-one. To start a new entry.
A few days ago, I met my uncles. Plenty of other things have happened—like they always do when you’re around—but that’s the one I’ve been thinking about the most. From what I’ve seen, the Skims are many things—cheaters, thieves, tricksters. But were they really enough to make you forget?
I know now that you can’t remember, and we can’t go back to the life we had. That doesn’t hurt me near as much as it used to, but now I still can’t help but wonder. The way you looked at me as your own daughter and even called me that until the day you cast me aside forever. Is everything you’re still doing just because I happen to be related to them? You could have done so many things to change how ponies see them, or even sent them to prison for good if they were as bad as you make them out to be. But if you did, then you would’ve had to realize how bad you really were. How much worse you were, you always were, than them.
I’m not afraid of facing you again, even after what happened last time. Because I know it’ll be the last time I’ll have to see you again. Even if I didn’t believe in Coco, I’d still do everything I could to help her through, because you haven’t just hurt me anymore. In some twisted way, you’ve actually made us closer, and whatever you’re doing now, I won’t let you keep hurting us. I will make you remember.
I am a bad seed. Then what does that make you?
By the time Cameo finally showed up, Babs was already sweating from the intensity of her emotions. After meeting Apple Bloom for the first time, she never would’ve thought about saying such terrible things to anypony. But, then again, nopony would ever have to see, and the pony everything was aimed at really did deserve it all, anyway.
In any case, she struggled to shut the book before Cameo noticed what was inside. The mare, like all too many ponies she knew, had a habit of sneaking up on others, and by the time she closed it, the other mare had already seen enough. All Babs could do was look on in fear as her biological mother stared straight at a book of her innermost darkness, completely frozen in her tracks.
“Your writing skills are improving,” Cameo remarked suddenly. “And even I didn’t have such good penmanship at your age.”
Babs stared blankly at the other visitor’s strange smile before realizing the obvious. Whatever was written in the journal, Cameo had likely already thought about in far more colorful terms. With a blush, she quickly explained that it was part of a therapy project, and that somehow, the school counselor had thought getting out her thoughts in words would help her get through her pain. Never mind that Babs was barely feeling any to begin with, having already shoved most of her personal worries away in order to focus on Coco’s.
Funny thing was, it almost made them disappear. Almost.
In exchange, Cameo quickly briefed the filly on the situation at hoof—Torte Framboise had declared himself the latest suspicious Orange, and the two of them were currently the only ponies who could confront him. Bambi and Valencia were fighting their own battle, still trying to get the splintered Oranges to reaccept their fallen members, and Silver Phoenix was throwing a benefit performance for the Manehattan foster home. Babs distinctly remembered how the event was supposed to occur several weeks before the court hearing, but the fact that it hadn’t been rescheduled made for yet another complication. Coco would have to throw herself into the benefit and go over coaching sessions with her lawyer, and as long as that was the case, her days of interrogating Oranges were over.
That is, both recognized, assuming she would have had the mental stability to do it in the first place. That, more than anything else, was why Cameo insisted on seeking out Torte as soon as possible. If it was just a misunderstanding, Coco would quickly come out of her depression and come back to the case stronger than ever. But if it was really how it appeared to be, it could throw the entire court into disarray—and could break Coco before she even approached Mosely.
After both ponies had been fully briefed on the situation and exchanged various mother-daughter pleasantries, Cameo and Babs found themselves exiting the school with a new layer of uncertainty in their hearts.
“Any idea how we’ll get through to him?” Babs questioned, already getting herself into the most serious mood the other pony had ever seen from her. “I mean, he’s one of the biggest lawyers in Manehattan, right? And if he’s investigatin’ one of the biggest cases ever, shouldn’t he be out of our reach by now?”
Instead of answering, however, Cameo broke into a swift gallop, tracing her steps to the all-too-familiar Orange residence route. On any normal occasion, the realization of where they were heading would’ve sickened Babs, but considering that Coco’s well-being seemed to hinge on Torte being exposed for who he really was, the filly barely even thought about the implications.
Midsweet’s trial was still a couple months away, and by now, Babs knew better than to dwell on events that far off. After all, at that point, they had a far greater problem to solve than some elderly former matriarch who’d already been robbed of any power she’d ever had.
“I managed to catch up with him earlier,” Cameo finally yelled as Babs continued to trail her. “I told him I had some confessions to make, and he seemed to bite. Anything to win him a case, after all. He probably even thinks I’m going back on my allegations.”
“So he doesn’t know we’re gonna confront him?”
Even though the filly was giving her an accusatory look from behind her, Cameo still stopped to shrug at her statement.
“He’s the one who thinks I’d ever do anything like that,” she muttered. “It’s his own fault for thinking Mosely’s going to end up as the winning party, after all.”
Just as the two were about to approach Torte’s office, which was all-too-conveniently located a block away from Midsweet’s old house, Cameo flashed her daughter one last doubtful glance.
“Anyway, are you sure you’re up for this? I know you probably haven’t recovered from…what happened last month, or anything that’s happened to you within the recent past, for that matter. Plus, it’s going to be quite the rough job interrogating a lawyer in there, and—“
What happened next was unexpected even for the pony who incited it. Just about as soon as Cameo began to go into her lecturing mode, Babs gripped onto one of her front legs in a hugging pose. Granted, it still didn’t feel quite as natural to her as when she did it to Coco, but something about hearing Cameo get so concerned about her safety made any barriers she still had between her and her biological mother come down at once. In fact, it’d almost felt like the two of them had never been separated all those years ago.
“I’m okay,” Babs finally answered, watching as Cameo’s gaze softened under the filly’s touch. “If it’s for Coco, I’ll definitely be okay. Thanks for askin’, though.”
In that moment, it felt as if any wounds the Mosely case would end up reopening would sew themselves back up within seconds. And then Torte Framboise entered the building.
****
Neither Babs nor Cameo knew the stallion well enough to make any strong judgements about him off the bat. Like Bambi, he’d distanced himself from the Orange family as much as he could and as soon as he could. Supposedly, from what little Orange gossip Cameo could remember, he’d even gotten into a few public arguments with Mosely, but considering that he was now defending his rumored rival, the mare now doubted the rumors had ever been true to begin with.
He walked into the room with a confident bravado, obviously unaware of any confrontation that was about to take place. Even his eyes seemed devoid of any sort of guilt or doubt that might come with defending Manehattan’s most-hated pony. Rather than the look of a tormented stallion, he emanated with a grace few ponies would ever have, both his mane and fur as cleanly shaved as they could be. His face, however, was as blank as a statue’s, especially when his face first turned to the two mares.
“What brings you here so early?” he asked, keeping his voice at a level tone that betrayed his true worry about the situation.
“I figured we’d need to look into more things than we could find in a half hour,” Cameo replied. “So, since you couldn’t change your schedule to talk later, I figured I’d just come here now.”
As Torte nodded and offered both of them seats, Babs distinctly noticed his act cracking under its own pressure. She wasn’t sure if Cameo could see it, but with enough deliberation, his eyes seemed almost like Coco’s: full of determination, but hiding a deeper fear inside.
Just as Torte was about to launch into his usual lawyer-client chit-chat, asking about the filly who so clearly was the culmination of his flawed logic, Cameo blocked his remarks and closed in on him.
“My sources inform me you’ve gotten involved with Mosely Orange’s case—specifically, as his defense lawyer. Now, I’m not accusing you of anything in particular, but don’t you think that goes against your beliefs a bit?”
Just about as soon as she’d asked the question, Torte had already fired back with a response. In true judicial fashion, he’d already had an answer prepared to even the most unpredictable inquiry anypony could’ve given him.
“Don’t you think you’re prying a bit too much into this case? Usually, it’s not the prosecution's place to question somepony’s choice of lawyer, and even if we know each other, it’s still no excuse for anything like this.”
Before Babs could get a single remark in, Cameo had prepared herself to fire back in much the same way as the stallion had done before, something made all the more impressive by her lack of a legal background. Her blue eyes immediately clouded, and from the way she was ready to launch herself into a full-out emotional appeal, Babs had a feeling that her role in the case would soon become far greater than anticipated.
“If it was anypony else, I wouldn’t be concerned,” she began, her voice cracking in all the right places for maximum effect. “But you know how bad he can be, Mr. Framboise. It may not be my place to say this, but you know your wife’s still recovering from the things he did to her all these years ago. So if you know all this, why are you still taking his side?”
Even with all the desperation in Cameo’s stance, Torte still shoved the incident aside as if it was a simple annoyance. Just a few minutes ago, he’d been anchored to his desk, but he was now beginning to move off towards another part of the law office. Despite all these details, though, the mare had a distinct feeling that she was, in some way, getting to him. He just wasn’t the type of stallion who’d want to admit it.
“It wasn’t my choice,” he muttered, not even bothering to look Cameo in the eye. “It might not seem right to you, but even guilty cases bring publicity to the firm. I’ve handled cases like this before, and sometimes justice is done. Sometimes it isn’t. What matters is that you should focus on your own side to the story and stop wondering about ours.”
Ours. The very way he phrased it was nauseating to just about every party in the room, as if his relationship with Mosely had always been far more than professional. How long had Torte been conspiring with him, if that was the meaning he’d intended to convey? Could that have been part of the reason it’d taken so long to catch the former Bridleway producer in the first place?
Still, even as Torte cantered out of the room to move onto another case, possibly involving ponies just as corrupt as he was, Cameo went after him. Even with every piece of evidence seeming to lead to him working with Mosely, the look she’d seen from him before brought all of that into question. Any lawyer willingly working for a client would’ve returned her questions with an assertive confidence, but even if Torte seemed to have just that, she knew better than anypony else what ponies looked like when they were wearing a mask. And, for just a few seconds, it’d cracked into a face that would’ve elicited sympathy from anypony.
Those few seconds, though, were enough to prove beyond a doubt that there was more to the case than Torte let on. Remembering how Valencia had told her about his habit of not telling ponies about his real problems, Cameo closed in on him yet again and shielded Babs as if he was about to pull a knife on her at any moment.
“Is it all right for me to ask if it isn’t about the case?” she questioned, staring the lawyer straight in the face as if doing so would make him crumble even more. “Because this isn’t like you. You’re the one who always said you wanted to stay out of Orange operations and, with all due respect, you stopped bailing them out years ago.”
“This time is different,” he said, shielding his emotions as much as he could. “And, if you’d just listen to what I’ve been trying to tell you, you’d know that none of this is about how I feel about my client. It’s not exactly professional to say such things in public, but he could rot in Tartarus for all I care. We’re not plotting anything together, if that’s what you’ve come here to confront me about.”
He was just about to walk away yet again, but considering the glances he got from both guests, tinged with both anger and anticipation, he slouched onto his desk and prepared himself for a very long evening. From what little he knew of Cameo, she was a mare who wouldn’t be turned away at a time like this, and if she was the mare he thought she was, she’d raised her daughter to be no different.
With a quick sigh, he continued, “I’m on your side, madam. Both of your sides, really. And while I ideally wouldn’t like to give out such information, if it’ll ease your worries, I suppose I’ll have to.”
“We’re both fine,” Babs finally piped in hesitantly, gauging the situation to make sure it was okay to interrupt the two adults. “It’s my mama Coco we’re worried about. She saw you back at the courthouse this mornin’ on her way to work, and—“
Torte took a quick sip of his coffee and stretched a single hoof out, signaling the filly to stop in her tracks.
“It was a publicity event,” he began. “The papers are already at it about this upcoming trial, and so lawyers and clients have to get along as best as they can for the cameras. Unfortunately, the prosecution and defendant's parties were scheduled to come in at different days, so I can definitely see how somepony could get the wrong impression from that. Give her my apologies the next time you see her, for what I’ve already done…and for what I may do during the case itself.”
With a final sigh, he whispered, “I really do envy your situation, even though it might not look like it. I know it’s not something either of you must be used to hearing, but I feel like it needs to be said.”
While he’d spent the last few minutes gaining the upper hoof as much as possible, that last statement made him fall on uneven ground. Cameo stared at him intently during that speech, wondering what he could possibly be implying by saying such a thing. Was this his way of making light of the situation, and therefore showing that he was still under Mosely’s control? Or was it simply a poor choice of words by an otherwise eloquent stallion?
“What’s enviable about any of this? To be blunt, we’re fighting somepony who could quite possibly be the craziest pony in Manehattan, and on top of that, our lead witness might not even have the mental stability to show up. Something that, for all we know, you could have caused.”
“You misunderstand me. It was only meant as a simple compliment. By that, I meant…not a lot of families could stay as close as yours under such dire circumstances. Believe me, I’ve seen it time and time again in my career, and in my home life as well. In a way, if you really must know, that’s actually part of the reason I’m doing this to begin with.”
Normally, when confronted with a major Orange confession such as this one, the mother and daughter pair tended to notice a sort of joy in the interrogated party, almost as if they were telling the secret just to get a rise out of them. Yet Torte’s voice sounded pained and hollow as he said this, as if it was a statement he knew would weaken him more than anything else.
Both suddenly began to look at the stallion with a more sympathetic eye, wondering how exactly Mosely could’ve ended up hiring somepony who’d seemed to hate him so much in the past. It took them all of five seconds to come up with an answer, and two more to turn their faces towards each other and realize that they’d both come to the same conclusion.
He’s ending it like he started it.
“I know this is going to seem like an awkward question, Mr. Framboise,” Cameo began, “but this is a private area, and there’s no way he’ll be able to trace what you say here back to you. With all this, and everything else you’ve said, in mind, tell me the truth—were you blackmailed into this?
Sure enough, Torte practically lurched in his chair, as Cameo predicted he would. As soon as he ensured that he hadn’t fallen off in his shock, Torte quickly regained his composure and put on his best face, something that Cameo now knew for sure had to be a mask.
“With his alleged track record, it’d be easy to think so. However, I entered the case of my own volition, knowing everything that would happen to me as a result. While I didn’t anticipate you two coming in and confronting me directly, I did figure I’d get some pushback from my decision. However, it’s like I said before—I’m doing this for my family. I don’t intend to throw this case, or do anything else of the sort, but I do intend to ensure that my client will stay behind bars for as long as possible.”
“And how can you do that without sabotagin’ him?” Babs asked abruptly. “Won’t ponies be suspicious of ya no matter what you do?”
Torte only winked in response, a particularly odd gesture for a lawyer to do, but nevertheless, one that bode well for everypony present.
“Ex-acte-ment,” he enunciated, leaving the two mares confused about why he’d suddenly responded in Prench. “When a stallion like Mosely Orange has his pick of the finest lawyers in Manehattan and still chooses to hire his brother-in-law, how exactly do you think ponies will feel about him? Corrupt as ever, I’d assume?”
For the first time in at least an hour, a wide smirk appeared on Torte’s face, proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that he, too, wanted Mosely to suffer. But what other sorts of agendas could he possibly have?
“I’ll take the temporary reputation cut that’ll come from defending a hated criminal. But in the process, no matter what I do in that case or how well I perform, nopony will be able to take the nepotism issue out of their minds, and that will be what ruins him. Now, I’ll have you know that I really was the first lawyer he consulted. He just expected me to be another one of his pawns, but I’ll be the one who really plays him in the end.”
It should’ve been enough, and by the arrogant look on the lawyer’s face, it definitely was for him. And yet somehow, something about the entire situation still made Cameo’s blood boil from the thought.
“So you’re telling me all this is just some power play?” she finally responded after mulling over his strategy. “You seriously want to make this case into some underhooved way to kick Mosely Orange in the flank one last time? Is that it?”
“Isn’t that what you want?” Torte answered with a shrug.
“Not like this. You’re telling me that you scared Coco into actually thinking you’d gone over to the other side, just for some selfish little revenge scheme?”
“No.”
It was simple and short, yet somehow, it was the most emotional answer Torte Framboise had given the entire day. The one that guaranteed he wasn’t some heartless, emotionless, robot of a lawyer.
“I know this is about you and your daughter, and I apologize again for adding to your fellow mother’s troubles. But, if you really think about it, Cameo, I think you’d say we both have very personal reasons for putting this stallion in jail for good.”
As if the message hadn’t already been nailed in enough, Torte’s head gently turned towards a photograph on his desk. Him and Valencia, presumably in better times, with her false cutie mark still showing. Yet another sign of how Mosely’s influence had gone far past Babs’ family and infected ponies that barely even knew her.
“I know it probably won’t seem like much to her,” he whispered. “To be honest, I’ve always known that I wasn’t the most important stallion in her heart, and I intend to keep her secret with my life. But after everything Mosely put her through…I feel like I owe it to her one last time. Even if we never stop going our own ways and being pulled away from each other, sacrificing myself for her is the least thing I can do.”
Steadily, in that moment, as the clock ticked ever closer to the day of the trial, the three traced through everything Mosely had ever done yet again. Each memory pained them to recall, but it brought them to a common point. Even though they would be on separate sides of the case, there was one thing that would unite them, and Coco, and everypony else involved through it.
Mosely, we will make you remember.