Mr. Himbolake knew my sister since the Wizney Rodent clubhouse back in the 90s," Janie said. "And even back then, he behaved like a rat."

Mina was way to young back then to even remember it (having not been born yet made her memory more than a little fuzzy). But as a fan of celebrity gossip at a young age, she was very quick on the uptake and knew that fact.

"He knew all the smooth moves the industry taught him at a young," Janie said "and wooed her a few years later….even with a purity ring."

"A purity ring?" the judge stammered, his eyes bulged. "Is he a hardcore religious nut?"

"Nope…your honor," Himbolake chimed in. "Just repressed by an children's animation company."

Mina couldn't help but smirk. Wizney had only managed to turn Himbolake into an e en bigger deviant. Every single one of his songs was about hanky panky, or a super extended metaphor about it. Which was fitting. Some of his older fans liked a big long metaphor.

Dustin had somehow managed to control his aura enough to smooth talk the judge. Mina hoped it would work as well as the ladies.

"Listen old dude," he said. "Why does me being a repressed super star playboy stud even have to do with the case? I've read all the dirt on me that Stabs wrote on me and it hurt. Deeply. But none of it was criminal. Whitney wasn't the naive sweetie everyone thinks she is. Even when we got back together… she loved our French kisses!"

Dustin bellowed in a high voice. "Your honor. Whitney Stabs is…NOT…THAT…INNOCENT!"

Suddenly, Himbolake's eyes dilated and he was enveloped in red aura again. Mina immediately 'eep'ed'. Why was his body aura making him malevolent again? "It's not because he's French?" she thought to herself. "No, he's from Wisconsin–which explains his cheesy puns–and besides, these cases have profiled enough French characters already!"

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Mina thought long and hard about what he said. Even when they got back together…she loved his French kisses..

Himbolake was still chewing on a box of Take My Breath Away mints…the poisoned item that he killed Whitney. And as he chewed the minty morsels…her eyes nearly blasted open with enlightenment. Himbolake at the Duper Bowl was wearing his Prince Pretty costume that included velvet gloves. That was a clever way he could carry the box with his manager's finger prints without anyone knowing he touched it too.

When he visited Whitney in her dressing room, he had taken the mint in his mouth and had french kissed her, exchanging the poisoned mint along with his disgusting saliva. Some Parisian forms of affection were unbelievably romantic but this was the french kiss of death!

"Connection!" she screamed, drawing everyone's attention to her. Even Himbolake eyed her suspiciously.

Judge Mentle ruffled his billy goatee. "Young lady," her future elderly date said. "Do you have a connection between this letch's sexual prowess and the case…?"

Mina's voice stopped dead in its invisible tracks. If she told everyone what she knew, Blind's grandmother would be killed by Dustin's bodyguard hitman.

Mina held her head in her hands.

"Sometimes I wish I wasn't a psychic prodigy and established attorney at eighteen!" she thought, rocking back and forth. "At least I'm modest."

"Nope. Nopey nope!" Mina said, rising and bobbing her head awkwardly. "My phone finally has a good connection here. Y'all legal halls aren't known for your wifi but I think it hit a good spot!"

"Disregarding that entendre," the old judge said. "Kids these days and their electrical doodads." He wiggled his fuzzy eyebrows. "But I guess that's the price a foxy grandpa has to pay when he's got a food date with a whippersnapper!"

Mina wanted to gag. From the age gap between her and her new date which could rival the vastness of the Grand Canyon, but also she was now sitting on a true turnabout for the case. If she wanted to, she could get justice for Dustin's misdeeds, but if she did, there would be no more Justice. Divine Justice that is.