“Get ready for round three,” I said, rolling my eyes.

When we got back into the courtroom, Mr. Brenner informed me that an agent from the Immigration and Naturalization Service had finally shown up, and that, as an added bonus, he had brought an agent from the Department of Homeland Security with him. He pointed out a bland-looking guy in a blue suit, who stood next to a bland-looking woman a blue suit, who stood next to a stack of papers that they must have brought in with a wheelbarrow. I took a deep breath and the two of us went over to brief Uncle Sam.

“Hello, I’m Matt Brenner, from the Philadelphia District Attorney’s Office. This is Gabrielle Pierce, who represents Mr. Smith.”

“Mike Fisher from INS. This is Susan Brooks from the Department of Homeland Security. We understand you have a foreign national here charged with a crime.”

“I wouldn’t say he’s a foreign national, more an interplanetary visitor.” I smiled.

Mr. Fisher looked at Ms. Brooks. Then both of them looked at Mr. Brenner. I had a feeling they didn’t have much in way of a sense of humor, or possibly a pulse.

“He’s in need of a psychiatric evaluation,” Mr. Brenner explained slowly, in case the words were too big for the Stepford agents, “But apparently, the fact that he claims to be from another planet, is enough to trigger a federal investigation.”

“Well, he’s going to have to fill out some paperwork,” Ms. Brooks offered in a monotone voice. Interestingly, I noted that she actually kind of resembled the paperwork piled next to her, at least in personality.

I decided to give it a try, “Folks, what Mr. Brenner is saying, is that Mr. Smith isn’t really from another planet; he’s mentally ill. He needs to go to a hospital.”

“He’s still going to have to fill out the paperwork,” Mr. Fisher replied and I sighed. Okay, they wanted Captain Kirk to fill out paperwork, that was fine with me. I went off in search of Mr. Smith. I found him in the vending machine room, talking to a beverage dispenser, and I led him back to meet Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dumber.

When I got back to the courtroom, it was immediately clear that there was some kind of situation going on. A group of deputies were meeting with the Spirit Hunters Team. Burt was gesturing wildly and the rest of them were nodding. I didn’t see Ernie anywhere, though. I led Mr. Smith over to the government think tank, and tracked down Braden to ask him what was going on.

“Is there some sort of crisis in the spirit realm?” I asked.

“Ernie is missing.”

“Missing?” I raised an eyebrow, inquisitively.

“Missing. He went off to retrieve some equipment and he never came back. I’m thinking that maybe he’s with Mr. Marley, who is also still MIA.”

“Oh hey, that reminds me, Edna Manson said something weird.”

“That’s not really surprising. Edna Manson’s pretty weird in general, Gabrielle.”

“Yeah, she is kind of creepy,” I agreed, “but listen to this, she claims that Mr. Marley’s case is just supposed to be administrative, because Mr. Marley died of a heart attack before it could be resolved.”

“What?” he asked turning to look at me. “He was sitting right over there, in the vortex area. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Wait, it gets better. This fatal heart attack happened in, you guessed it, 1905, in this very courtroom.”

“Yeah, right,” Braden replied skeptically. “What is this a horror movie?”

Suddenly, as if on cue, the lights went out, leaving us in total darkness. There was a second of silence, and the room filled with sounds of chairs scraping and falling over as people started yelling. The lights immediately came back on. Everyone froze and stopped yelling. The lights went back off. They started moving and yelling again. They came back on! Back off! Back on! That happened three more times, until finally everyone just shut up, and they came back on and stayed on, illuminating a bunch of bored, pissed off looking people. At that moment, the courtroom doors flew open and there was a sudden explosion of color. It was Delores Crowley. She was running up the aisle toward the bench.

“He’s here and he wants justice!” she cried, waving her arms like she was trying to land a 747.

“Who wants justice?” Judge Epstein asked with a scowl. There wouldn’t be any justice in her courtroom, dammit.

“The one who died,” Ms. Crowley answered. “I need an empty vessel.”

“Have you met Ms. Brooks and Mr. Fisher from the federal government?” I asked helpfully. Suddenly a blast of cold air came shooting down from the ceiling, blowing their enormous stack of papers all over the courtroom. Coincidence?

“The EMF meter is going off the scale!” one of the Spirit Hunters called out.

“Three point five, three point six, point seven, point eight,” another chimed in, looking at his own little light up box.

“This place is crawling with abnormal energy!” Burt informed us.

“It’s like that every night,” Mr. Brenner noted.

“His soul is disturbed,” Delores went on in a deep raspy voice, her eyes rolling back in her head. I had news for her, that wasn’t all that was disturbed. From somewhere out in the hall, came a horrible sound, not unlike the wail of a Banshee.

“Sid! It’s my Sid! I knew it! He wants justice!” Apparently, Gladys Peterman had not left the building. She came tearing into the courtroom like a bat out of hell, or more accurately, like a bat into hell, in this case I suppose.

“If he wants anything, Gladys, he wants you to shut up already,” her brother-in-law Irv said, coming in after her. “The poor guy can’t even get away from you by dying.” A loud clanging noise sounded from somewhere in the building. I guess Sid agreed.

“I need something to contain it!” Delores cried. “An empty vessel of some sort.” She looked around frantically. A guy who looked like a biker stood up and dumped a bottle of vitamin water onto the floor, handing it over to Delores.

“Fifty dollar fine!” Judge Epstein yelled out with a bang of her gavel.

“Ask Sid if that pervert violated him!” Gladys demanded.

“Tell him it’s about time he got some,” Irv muttered.

“What’s going on in here?” Edna Manson asked, joining the party a bit late … from the jury room? Mr. Bates came out behind her, pulling up his fly. Okay, that was something I really didn’t need to see. I glanced at Braden.

“Don’t think about it,” he said grimly.

“There’s a ghost in the room, and he’s pissed off, because somebody screwed him … or didn’t screw him,” a woman who looked like a working girl answered.

“Is it Mr. Marley? If so, I have that case,” Edna said, heading over to the prosecution table and digging through a pile of files. Braden rolled his eyes.

“It’s my Sid!” Gladys insisted.

“How do you know?” Edna shot back. She wasn’t going to let Mr. Marley off the hook just because he died in 1905.

“Because she said that the spirit wanted justice and he was disturbed!” Gladys seethed. A Spirit Hunter approached her with his Light Bright and she swung at him with her purse.

“I think this one might be a demon,” the Spirit Hunter said, ducking just in time.

“You’re just figuring that out now?” Irv Peterman asked.

“Enough of this!” Judge Epstein shouted, banging her gavel so hard that she broke it. “Everybody shut up!” There was silence as we all waited expectantly. “You, in the shit shirt, you first. What’s going on in here?” She glared at Bert malevolently.

He cleared his throat and launched into his explanation. “Well, Judge, my partner Ernie went to retrieve some equipment and seems to have gone missing. Our equipment is indicating that there is paranormal activity going on in this room at the moment.”

“Okay, and you, dressed in the rummage sale, Ms. Crowley, what’s your problem?” she asked Delores.