“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, forgive me if I seem distracted. I've been preoccupied of late with, uh, questions of morality. Of right and wrong, good and evil. Sometimes the delineation between the two is a sharp line. Sometimes it's a blur, and often it's like pornography: you just know when you see it. A man is dead. I don't mean to make light of that, but these questions... these questions are vital ones because they tether us to each other, to humanity. Not everyone feels this way. Not everyone sees the sharp line, only the blur. A man is dead. Um, a man is dead. And my client, John Healy, took his life. This is not in dispute. It is a matter of record, of fact, and facts have no moral judgment. They merely state what is. Not what we think of them, not what we feel. They just are. What was in my client's heart when he took Mr. Prohaszka's life, whether he is a good man or something else entirely, is irrelevant. These questions of good and evil, as important as they are, have no place in a court of law. Only the facts matter. My client claims he acted in self-defense. Mr. Prohaszka's associates have refused to make a statement regarding the incident. The only other witness, a frightened young woman, has stated that my client was pleasant and friendly, and that she only saw the struggle with Mr. Prohaszka after it had started. Those are the facts. Based on these and these alone, the prosecution has failed to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that my client was not acting solely in self-defense. And those, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, are the facts. My client, based purely on the sanctity of the law which we've all sworn an oath to uphold, must be acquitted of these charges. Now, beyond that, beyond these walls... he may well face a judgement of his own making. But here, in this courtroom, the judgement is yours and yours alone.”