What Will Be The Destiny of the Next Attorney General
The Law Offices of Justice & Justice, LLP
There was once, in this most excellent republic, a modest institution known as the Department of Justice. Its purpose, as written in old and rather dusty texts, was to pursue the law without fear or favor. This was, of course, a charming idea—like powdered wigs or the notion that facts might stand upright on their own without being steadied by a firm and helpful hand.

But as this republic grew older, it did not become wiser, and the Department of Justice underwent a most practical renovation. It was rebranded—quietly at first, then with increasing confidence—as The Law Offices of Justice & Justice, LLP, a firm singularly devoted to a single client: The Leader.
The change was subtle in language but profound in spirit. Where once the Department asked, “What does the law require?” it now asked, “What would be most satisfying to the Leader?” This shift, though minor in phrasing, proved revolutionary in practice.
Upon entering these newly imagined offices, one would find not the blindfolded figure of Justice, but rather a most attentive clerk seated beneath a sign that read:
“Tell Us Your Grievance—We’ll Handle the Rest.”
And grievances, as it happened, were in abundant supply.

Clients, though there was only one in truth, would arrive bearing long scrolls of perceived slights. Some were recent, others delightfully antique. All were treated with equal seriousness, for time, in the realm of grievance, has a curious way of folding in on itself. An insult from yesterday and a rumor from decades past were given equal billing under the firm’s most prized doctrine: Eternal Relevance of Personal Offense.
The attorneys of Justice & Justice, LLP were not burdened by the tedious neutrality of their predecessors. They understood their role with admirable clarity. Their task was not to weigh evidence, but to assemble it. They were to do this selectively, creatively, and, when necessary, imaginatively. They were to do their very best to create a most compelling narrative of wrongdoing.
“Is there proof?” a junior associate once asked.
“Proof,” replied a senior partner, “is a matter of presentation.”
And so it was that cases were constructed not from the cold bricks of fact, but from the warmer, more malleable clay of intention. Suspicion became inference, inference became suggestion, and suggestion, when repeated with sufficient vigor, became, for all practical purposes, truth.
The firm prides itself on efficiency. No longer would justice be delayed by the cumbersome rituals of impartial review. Instead, matters were fast-tracked according to a much more relevant standard: the urgency of the grievance.
Was the offense particularly irritating? Expedite.
Was it embarrassing? Accelerate.
Was it public? Announce immediately.
In this way, justice was not only served, it was served hot, and often with great theatrical flair.
Naturally, some critics raised concerns. They spoke, in hushed and somewhat anxious tones, of “abuse,” of “precedent,” and of “the rule of law.” These individuals, though earnest, failed to grasp the innovation at hand. For what is the law, if not a tool? And what is a tool, if not meant to be used?
The Leader, in his wisdom, understood this perfectly. Why rely on the unpredictable machinery of independent judgment when one might instead enjoy the reliability of personalized service?
Thus emerged the firm’s most popular offering: The Retaliation Package™.

This comprehensive service included:
- Immediate investigation of designated adversaries
- Strategic leaks to ensure public awareness
- The careful timing of charges for maximum narrative impact
- And, where appropriate, a graceful silence regarding allies
It was, by all accounts, a most elegant solution.
The public, for its part, was encouraged to observe these proceedings not as dry legal matters, but as episodes in an ongoing drama. Each case was a story, each indictment a plot twist, each hearing a scene in the grand production known as Justice, Reimagined.
And what a production it was.
Enemies were cast with precision. Allies were granted the benefit of interpretive flexibility. Contradictions were not so much resolved as repurposed, for in the theater of retribution, consistency is but a minor character—useful when available, dispensable when not.
Yet perhaps the most remarkable feature of Justice & Justice, LLP was its commitment to customer satisfaction. The Leader’s needs were anticipated, his grievances cataloged, his enemies meticulously indexed in what became known as The Ledger of Wrongs.
This ledger, ever expanding, ensured that no slight—however small, however distant—would be lost to the dull erosion of time. Each entry was a promise, and each promise a future opportunity.
“Will there ever be an end?” asked a visitor, glancing nervously at the ever-growing list.
“End?” replied the clerk, with a polite smile. “Why would there be an end?”
For in this new understanding, retribution was not a destination but a system—a self-sustaining engine powered by memory, emotion, and the most renewable resource of all: grievance.
And so the firm thrived.
Cases came and went. Headlines rose and fell. The machinery of justice, once slow and deliberate, now moved with the brisk confidence of a well-managed enterprise. It delivered results—not always in the sense once understood, but certainly in the sense most desired by the Leader.
As for the old Department of Justice, with its quaint ideals and its inconvenient independence, it was not so much dismantled as… repurposed. Its language remained, its symbols endured, but its spirit—like so many things—was adapted to meet the needs of a more efficient age.
And thus, in the annals of this once great republic, it was recorded that justice had at last become truly responsive.
Responsive not to law, nor to principle, nor even to truth—but to the far more compelling call of personal satisfaction.
Which, in the end, was deemed by all the proper authorities to be the highest form of justice imaginable.
