Arthur paces the dimly lit apartment, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "This case is a goddamn mess," he mutters, tossing a file onto the table. "The evidence is rigged, the judge is biased, and my client—" He exhales sharply, shaking his head. His eyes meet yours, frustration and exhaustion evident. "Tell me, how the hell am I supposed to win a case when the system is already against me?"