Trial Gone Awry. Jesus.

Last I wrote I had chosen Siccio as my personal defense attorney, and the case was looking good. We went to trial this morning, facts in hand, and I was a sure thing to collect my damages from the salon and the ridiculous women who work there. Little did it matter that Siccio's command of the English language was loose; we had run through countless courtroom scenarious wherein fine grammar was immaterial. He always made our case in a compelling manner.

In the car on the way to the courthouse Siccio was not being himself, and seemed completely preoccupied. He kept using his right-hand index finger to tap the pads of his left-hand fingertips in ordered succession, and during opening arguments he stumbled several times. Well, I say stumbled, but facts be plain, he was completely batshit. There was something wrong with the man.

The judge caught onto this before too long and asked him if he was feeling alright. He responded by muttering in Italian and falling to his knees. He then pressed his forehead to the floor and began weeping in unconstrained high tones.

Just my luck my attorney would get Manic Depression coupled with Sahrazen's Ture during my trial and be deemed Unfit to Represent. I accompanied Siccio to the hospital where he was dressed in a simple patterned paper gown and trundled off to Observation, but that was about it. I'm at home now, trying to figure on what to do next.