years later, when they go to refurbish Barclay Prison, theyāll stumble across some prisonersā belongings from the turn of the century. and among those belongings, theyāll find letter addressed to āMonsieur Drebberā, signed āforever yours, Esmeā. each one has a unique wax seal and itās clear the letters were opened in order to preserve them. maybe they were part of a code, that only the two could understand?
the records are gone, of course. itās been over fifty years and only snapshots of the former prisonersā lives are left behind. they have a relatively good idea of who Drebber might be, but less so who Esme is. the wax sculptor? maybe, but that theory seems too convenient to be true. besides, her name was Esmeralda, anyway. but, whoever they were, Esme wrote Drebber letter after letter, detailing the life theyād build together once he was released. she called him āmon cheriā in the middle of sentences as though she was speaking to him in person.
and maybe itās a romantic notion that Esme was the wax sculptor. maybe itās a romantic notion that Esme could sculpt the face of the man she loved when she couldnāt see him in person.
Phoenix Wright reads the diary of his ancestorās time in England, and he knows the truth. he doesnāt say a word. the dead deserve to rest peacefully.
once upon a time, there was a man named Drebber and a woman named Esme and they were in love. and, sometimes, thatās enough.
