Arrogance.

The three piece Armani suit was expertly pressed and coordinated. His shirt was extra starched. The loafers were spit polished to shine. He had long accepted the short comings of his chosen career focusing instead on the glamour and controversy he knew he was capable of.
With his locked leather briefcase in hand he climbed into the driver's seat of his Jaguar XJ. One hour before his big performance.
Just his luck, traffic was light and parking found quick. He slipped in the back door not wanting to compromise his grand entrance. Through the back halls he waltzed. This twisted dance he had long learned all the steps to led him in. Time was essential. Delivery demanded precision, accuracy and a pound of charisma.
While sipping a grande Starbucks extra shot latte in the prep room, he checked his teeth for traces of breakfast. Finding none, he set down his cup, picked up his case file, straightened his tie and winked at his reflection. It was time.
He crossed the front of the room to take his seat already annoyed with the formalities that would fast follow. He ignored the whispers in the crowd.
Once everyone was seated again he paused a moment, then stood. With a strong, solid voice he declared, "Your honour, the defense would like to call..."