Track 8: Post-war. Studying. "The beauty of the law is its ambiguity." Establishing his practice.
War is messy.
War is loud.
But the Law?
The Law is a refined art.
I trade the sword for the books and the quill.
The battlefield changes, but I have the skill.
Albany, New York. The courts are alive.
This is the jungle where I will survive.
I study the statutes, I look for the cracks.
I find the loophole that covers your tracks.
They call me "The Little Magician" in court.
Because I turn a long sentence into something short.
The Law.
It isn't about what is right or is wrong.
It’s about who can sing the most convincing song.
The Law.
It’s a fluid, ambiguous thing.
It’s a game of chess for a peasant or king.
And the beauty of the law…
Is its ambiguity.
I don't lecture the jury, I look in their eyes.
I strip away passion and legal disguise.
"Whatever is bold is concise," that’s my rule.
Only a windbag plays the fool.
I prepare. I research. I stay up all night.
So when I walk in, I have already won the fight.
My clients are wealthy. My practice is gold.
I’m barely thirty, but I’m playing it old.
You see, a lawyer is a soldier without the blood.
We fight for property. We fight for names.
And I plan to win every single game.
The Law.
It isn't about what is right or is wrong.
It’s about who can sing the most convincing song.
The Law.
It’s the ladder I’m going to climb.
One verdict at a time.
Court is adjourned.