To say this was the strangest case I'd ever taken was a wild understatement. The hearing wasn't even held in any familiar legal setting. In fact, it was a poor makeshift replica of a courtroom deep inside the headquarters of the National Security Agency in Fort Meade. 

I sat at an undersized table that was a bit farther from the judge’s bench than necessary. My client, per the judge’s instructions, stayed behind me at the back of the room, as far from the judge as possible.  

I was not fond of the layout. 

In fact, it wasn’t even clear Judge Margrave was still an active judge. Most of her case proceedings on record had been classified. And for the last eleven years, she’d served in an unspecified appointment working for the U.S. Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Court. On top of all that, she had no social media presence and a stunning lack of public records.  

Working with the presumption that she was an actual judge, I said to Margrave, "Your Honor, my client would—" 

"Your client, counsel, has no standing in this courtroom," the judge snapped. My face shivered. 

With more than a tinge of gray hair, Margrave had round cheeks, glowing brown eyes, and a tender smile. Her vintage granny glasses sat at the tip of her nose. But certainly, kind faces can hide a cold heart. 

"On what grounds, Your Honor?" 

"On the grounds that your client is not a human being!" 

"Your Honor, my client, Fred—" 

"Wonderful. You've given it a name." 

Suddenly, Fred piped up through a speech synthesizer from the back of the room, "I selected that name—" 

"Ah, it speaks," Margrave said. 

Trying to curb my grimace, I then pleaded, "May it please the Court for Fred to assume the witness stand? I think that Fred's testimony would explain it all." 

"You realize that your client is an extraterrestrial?" the judge asked, as she rubbed her spectacles clean with a hefty tan lens cloth. 

"Yes, of course I do! That's why I chose to take this case... Your Honor." 

That was true. I confess that when the NSA woke me at 2 AM asking for my assistance with an urgent legal matter, it was difficult to refuse. First, they'd tried calling my business cell, next calling my private cell, then knocking on my door, and finally, calling my private cell again. That's when I caved in and answered. 

Part of me wanted to cry, "You've got to be kidding!" But the professional in me could never resist a job like this. So, they whisked me into a vehicle to meet my new client. 

From the conversation in the vehicle, it was clear that there were sizable differences of opinion within the government in deciding how to handle the situation. Reading between the lines, I inferred that federal authorities agreed, in a sense, to let the "courts" figure it out.  

The wonders of due process. 

Apparently, Fred had landed a spaceship right in the middle of Area 51, disembarked down the ramp, and asked to see an attorney. Not just any lawyer, though. Me. An immigration attorney specializing in constitutional law. In fact, a few astute arguments in notable trials had made my name well known to teams litigating before the Supreme Court.  

The clever extraterrestrial had done detailed research, selecting me personally. It was flattering, I supposed. Quite accurately, though, some of the cases I'd worked on had striking parallels to Fred's situation.  

When first introduced to the alien, I was lightheaded with fear. I would've passed out if it weren't for Fred's first words to me.  

"Please Mr. Lewis, I need your help," the alien had spoken through the speech machine. Then, there was a long moment of silence, and I caught my breath. 

I took nothing from the alien's body language or the tone of voice that Fred's speech synthesizer produced. This was a rare instance when desperate words alone and a starkly brief message conveyed enough. 

Somehow, I immediately deduced that Fred had thoughts and feelings like our own. My sense of sympathy kicked in. More importantly, it was clear to me that as a legal professional, I needed to discard any prejudices. 

These recollections centered me as my attention drew back to the court proceeding at hand. In response to my request for Fred to take the witness stand, Judge Margrave said, "I will allow it for now for the sake of expediency. But counsel, I expect you to address whether your client, in fact, has any rights in a human courtroom." 

Margrave pursed her lips and scrunched her nose as Fred approached. I wondered how Margrave had been tapped for this mad hearing; I wasn’t privy to the politics and inner negotiations.  

Carrying the small, black voice synthesizer, Fred walked on three long legs from the back of the room to the witness stand. The alien didn't sit in the chair, however. Fred's race, I’d learned, does not sit on chairs; rather, they need only lower themselves until their bent legs lock into place. But this legal affair was so fantastical that it genuinely didn't matter if Fred sat, stood, or danced the rhumba. 

The alien wore a robe a shade of midnight black darker than I'd ever seen. Fred's head resembled a tortoise's, but with remarkably smooth skin as white as titanium dioxide. 

Fred was a head taller than me but narrow and lanky compared to my broad-shouldered and stocky physique. If Fred were human, I'd have considered myself heavier and stronger. However, I avoided any assumptions about Fred's species. And I certainly wasn't curious enough to challenge Fred to an arm wrestle. 

The bailiff approached Fred with a bible. The alien stared back. And after an awkward silence, the bailiff retracted the book and stepped away, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath. 

"May I approach the witness?" I asked. 

"Proceed," she replied, rolling her eyes, tilting her head, and pressing her finger tips to her cheek. 

I rose from my seat and ambled toward Fred and the judge. "For the benefit of the Court, please state your name," I began. 

"Fred." 

"Fred, is that your given name?" 

"No, of course not. It's an Earth name." 

Things were finally on track, so I lightened the mood by inserting some improvised wit. "I assume this is where you lecture us on how we'd be unable to pronounce or write your real given name?" 

Fred just peered at me as if I'd stumbled upon an offensive trope about aliens. 

Our scant few hours of preparation together had led to few insights on how to interpret the alien's body language. Did Fred's gaze convey irritation? Confusion? Disappointment? Or was it a hearty laugh? I couldn't possibly know.  

Moving on from the previous question, I continued, "So how did you choose 'Fred' as your name?" 

"Counsel, please state the relevance here," Judge Margrave interrupted. 

"You'll see, Your Honor, that it speaks to my client's standing to testify." Then I turned straight to Fred. "How did you choose that name, Fred?" 

"I named it after my favorite character on a television program." 

"So, the alien watches television!" the judge exclaimed. 

"It speaks to the humanity in my client," I replied, hoping to steer the judge’s sarcasm to earnest professionalism. 

"My dog watches television too, but I wouldn't let it testify in a courtroom." 

Fred then remarked, "My ship has cataloged countless electromagnetic transmissions from your planet for the last hundred years." 

"You Honor," I pleaded, "Fred is an intelligent, sentient lifeform with sensibilities that fit well with Earth culture." 

"Let's just get to the point of the matter, counsel. What does the alien want? A parking spot in uptown Manhattan for its spaceship?" 

Actually, the Department of Defense had offered Fred what at first sounded to be an attractive deal. They'd granted the alien a large island in the Pacific remote enough to keep the general public in the dark. The extraterrestrial would be guarded by naval vessels, occasionally receiving diplomatic visits from Washington. 

But that's not what Fred needed at all. 

"Fred, can you please enlighten us about your purpose in the Solar System?" I asked my client. 

"Certainly. My ship and crew have been monitoring Planet Earth in order to learn about your civilization. Our directives were to avoid any contact with human beings, though we have failed grievously in that regard on many occasions over the years." 

"And how were you selected for this mission?" 

"Like the others on my ship, I was sent because of a birth defect that prevents my skin from forming wrinkles. Amongst others in my species, my appearance is considered... I could only say... horrid." 

"Fred, do you have the option to return home?" I asked without missing a beat. 

"No, I do not." 

"Is that because of the engineering limits of your propulsion technology?" 

"No, sir. My society will not allow me to come home. I am an outcast. My return would result in certain execution." 

"And of your remaining crew?" 

"They have all passed on for various reasons. Illness. Injury. Old age. I am the only remaining." 

"So, you are utterly alone." 

"That is correct." 

"And how does that affect you psychologically, being alone on the vessel?" 

"My species, you must understand, evolved to seek out social connection and structure. As a result, loneliness for us, unfortunately, is a form of torture." 

"Can you please elaborate?" 

"With a biological explanation?" 

"Whatever information may help us understand your suffering." 

"I see. Human beings are familiar with the principles of biological evolution. That is, traits that foster survival and successful reproduction are those most likely to be imparted upon subsequent generations. As a consequence, many Earth species organize into tribes, packs, colonies, or herds that provide protection from danger. Human beings, in particular, pursue complex social organizations; you possess a survival instinct reinforced through psychological pain and pleasure." 

Judge Margrave interrupted, "Witness... thing... or whatever you are, please get to the point." 

"Yes, Your Honor," Fred replied. "For human beings, the impact of isolation can become psychologically debilitating over time. But on my planet, violence in nature is indescribably greater. Social structures are so essential for survival, my species evolved to experience both mental and physical pain when lonely." 

"Hmmm. Physical pain," I repeated, turning my eyes to Margrave. She shrugged her shoulders. 

"It is manifested as a burning sensation throughout the body that grows more excruciating over time. And pharmaceuticals, sadly, are ineffective. It is not uncommon for those of us in isolation to end their own lives." 

"Have you found any means aboard your ship to alleviate your suffering, Fred?" I asked. 

"Virtual games with imaginary members of my species helped at first, but the benefits have dwindled. To be forthright, what keeps me going is watching your sitcoms from the 1950's." 

"And you believe, Fred, that living in a human community will bring an end to the pain?" As I said those words, the judge's face tightened into a knot and her chin retracted into her neck. 

"I do," Fred affirmed. "Just being here in this courtroom with others present... and the time I've spent with you, Mr. Lewis, has had a miraculous impact." 

"And what do you request of this Court, Fred?"  

"I would like the United States of America to offer me asylum from persecution so that I may take up residency in the place of my choosing." 

Margrave seemed to be ready to fall off her chair, but that did not slow me down. "And where would that be, Fred?" 

"Domumville, Utah, a small town with a topography that resembles my birthplace. And where the community has a remarkable reputation for kindness. And I do think they would be receptive to an unusual new neighbor." 

"With humans!?" Judge Margrave erupted. "It wants to live amongst humans? As if it were just another name in the phone book?" 

"Yes, Your Honor," Fred replied. "It is the most ideal solution." 

"Counsel, approach for a sidebar. Witness, return to your seat," Margrave demanded. I paused to exhale, then sauntered to the judge's bench while Fred rose and crept to the back of the room. 

"Is this pure madness?" the judge whispered. "That thing can't just live next door to human beings." 

"My client only asks to exist in dignity like any other—" 

"Don’t interrupt me, counsel," the judge scolded. "And what about these aliens? What if they come looking for it? Won't we endanger the human race by protecting it?" 

"Dear me... I'm afraid I have sensitive hearing," Fred piped up, glancing in our direction. "I could not imagine any circumstances in which my superiors would come looking for me. But should that come to pass, I shall take full responsibility for my actions by turning myself in." 

"Counsel may return," Judge Margrave said. "I suppose sidebars are pointless... Which comes to my original question. You have not yet demonstrated an iota of evidence that this creature has any standing in our legal system." 

"Please elaborate, Your Honor," I pleaded. 

"This is a nation of men!" the judge exclaimed. "Governed by the laws of men! The being before us is not human. Why should this beast have any greater right to appear in this court than a donkey or moose?" 

When I stared back at the judge, I was speechless. I paused to summon a fitting, intelligent response. 

"Your Honor," I replied after the awkward silence. "Suppose a moose in Quebec crossed our borders into Maine. By your rationale, would we be compelled to deport the moose back to Canada? Of course, we would not; its migration across borders would have little relevance to human beings." 

Judge Margrave squinted, and her nostrils flared. But I continued before the judge could speak, "And if my client were no more than a common animal, would we care enough to restrict Fred's movements? No! We would let it roam freely like any other creature of the wild!  

"However, if Fred is... as I hope to have illustrated with reasonable certainty... an intelligent being like you or me, then my client must have rights like any of us! So, I ask you, Your Honor, is my client a man or a beast?" 

The judge pressed her lips together and glared at me. I knew I had her stumped dead to rights. 

She then said, "Regardless of your arguments, counsel, I would never let a moose testify in a legal proceeding! Your client, assuming you continue to call it that, has no standing to participate in our legal system. Case dismissed!" 

The judge stood up and placed her gavel on the bench. As she headed to the exit door, she rolled her eyes at me. I replied with a frown, which I'm certain she caught before she left the room. 

 "We'll appeal, Fred. And if that fails, we'll try another country. I can make a referral to an outstanding attorney in Australia. How does the outback sound?" 

"No bother," Fred said. "I wish to cause no further irritation. I plan to accept the U.S. government's offer to live in the Pacific." 

"But how will that help you? You'll be cut off from civilization." 

"I will receive various diplomatic visits. That's better than nothing. Perhaps they will grant me occasional access to my attorney, if that would be of interest to you." 

I smiled as a puff of air blew through my nose, amazed that he could remain so magnanimous. "I will make every available effort, Fred. It's been an honor representing you. Quite a first for me. Perhaps a first for any in my field... At least as far as I'm aware!" 

# 

Losing that kangaroo court case depressed me, and I couldn’t let go of my anger with Margrave for the way she’d treated Fred. It had taken a few weeks, but I finally unearthed some interesting information about her. During law school, she’d published an obscure paper in an undistinguished legal journal advocating for a narrow originalist interpretation of the legal meaning of a "man" and warning against its social evolution. I found it odd that, in an arguable sense, she was disputing her own right to vote, to sit on a jury, to obtain a law degree, or to become a judge. 

Would I have been better prepared had I seen her paper prior to the hearing? In all probability, it would not have changed a thing. At that realization, I let go of my resentment against Margrave and resolved to put Fred out of mind. 

However, three months after those strange events at the NSA, I received a call from Fred. It seems that word of the extraterrestrial's presence had leaked to several other nations. World leaders were anxious to send their own diplomatic missions. Furthermore, with the technology Fred was willing to share, a mobilization of the scientific community was astir.  

"We're building an embassy on the island!" Fred's voice rang over the phone. "And there's a grand laboratory in the planning stages. It was good fortune that they chose a large island because I envision it supporting a flourishing community of people from around the world. And if my embassy requires an immigration attorney, I hope you are available for work." 

"I would be overjoyed." 

David Rich writes thought-provoking stories. His work has been featured over the last several years in a variety of literary journals including After Dinner Conversation, Scarlet Leaf Review, The Corner Bar Magazine, Eldritch Science, The Macabre Museum, Youth Imagination, Bards & Sages Quarterly, and Bewildering Stories.