After a short drive to the state prison (20 minutes without Kairos, 2 minutes with it), Iris asked around about Franklin Hubert, and was relieved to find he actually existed as she sat across from him in the visitation room. She put the phone to her ear (or whatever the fuck it is they have there, just imagine them with a pane of glass between them or some shit).
"My name is Iris. I'm a Urasaria student out on investigation."
"A Urasaria student, thank god. I knew one would come eventually."
"You did?"
"Yes. Given you requested me by name, might I assume you know why I am here?"
"Supposedly, yes."
"I know precisely who is to blame for my predictament."
"Who?"
"That Godforsaken Jew Leonard Hoffman."
Iris looked over to the guard, then leaned in and whispered. "Tell me more. I've heard the name before."
"The facts match; I was his competitor as a fellow opthalmologist, my practice opened rather close to his own, and I had outbid him on the purchase of my former home, which I was forced to sell to cover my court fees."
"What's him being Jewish have to do with it, though?"
"Allow me to explain. I might seem ridiculous, but I hope you'll listen to me."
"You've got me."
"Now, I am not one of those toothless lunatics who seeks to paper over their own powerlessness by hurling invective at the world. I am, and still should be, a respected opthalmologist. I worked very hard through medical school... I am not uneducated. But I have happened across some interesting literature in my time here, and I believe it would cohere with your own experiences, as well, even as a student. After all, Urasaria Academy is one of the few institutions the Jews don't control."
'He realizes we're located in New York, right?' thought Iris. "That's true. Not one of our top students is Jewish."
"Yes. You're an intelligent young woman, so you might be quite receptive to this information."
'Wait, is Kunst a Jewish name?' she thought. 'Eskel? Ezekiel?'
She spoke. "We can discuss that after. Right now, there's a host I'm investigating. Is he Jewish? I'm not sure, but the police are stonewalling me. There seems to be a coverup at play. They told me I shouldn't listen to you, so I decided to come right out here and give you my ear."
"Yes, terrific."
"I was at the house of the woman you allegedly murdered recently. I found some documents indicating financial improprieties. They had your name on it. Is that why you're in prison?"
"Yes, that's correct. It was a sham trial; I had never once partaken in any foolish crap like that, nor had I ever met the woman I supposedly killed. Unfortunately, the opthamology business, and doctors in general, tend to be Jews, and if you aren't a member of the tribe, they'll trump up whatever false charges they need to oust you. Leonard Hoffman is merely another one of those; the specific Jew representation of the Jew general, if you please."
"So you were falsely accused, and the police forged evidence against you? Is that what you're saying?"
"On Hoffman's behalf, yes, although... hmm. I suppose the Jewish people do often make large donations to the police. That's certainly possible. Gods, if I had a Revenant. That would level the playing field some, eh?"
"Certainly would. You mind telling me about the trial?"
He began telling her the story of the trial, and how, in particular, Leonard Hoffman, would not even take the stand to testify against him; he had bribed several eyewitnesses to do so for him, all who claimed to have seen Dr. Hubert consorting with the woman on several occasions. There even existed audio recordings of the two together.
But, for Hubert there was some small hope, in that once he accepted that he likely would be imprisoned for this absurd crime, he had begun to see that the Jewish people were behind this; far from an expression of powerlessness, his conspiracizing became his understanding of the world and knowledge he might wield against it, however dismally unchanging his conditions were when risen up against by this supposed wisdom.
During his expletive-filled rants about Leonard Hoffman, Iris asked where his practice was located; Franklin had forgotten the address. She asked why, if he existed, she nor Olivia had never once found evidence for his existence, and he claimed again a cover-up by the government or police, both of which he identified as being controlled by... you get the point. It was odd, for far from this dissuading him, every bit of inconsistency to Hubert's mind seemed only to more deeply embed his belief; whenever he found no evidence he thought he need only mine deeper.
Iris soon realized precisely why he had zero supporters. Any objective analysis would reveal a lunatic of a man.
"Now, the prosecution lawyer was a shyster by the name of Herman Rosestein. Are you writing that down? You aren't writing it down."
"I have a good memory for Jewish lawyers."
"Shysters, we used to call them. And those are certainly the shysterest shysters. I hired one, myself, actually, because they do certainly make good lawyers. Unfortunately, tribalism overrode his fiduciary concerns. What tremendously stupid evil those human attachments are, to one group or another. It's why I always voted third-party."
Iris spoke with him for a while longer, though she found little relevance to his recollection of the trial; merely the sham evidence and that he claimed to not have ever met the woman he was accused of murdering, who he (surprisingly) never claimed as Jewish.
"One last question I'd like to ask." she said. "Were you ever a host?"
"No. Who told you that?"
"Just a hunch you weren't."
On her way out and with some literature recommendations for *starters* (one shudders at what the *advanced* course would entail), she thanked the guard for allowing her alone with him, and remarked some upon his anti-Semitism.
"Oh, Franklin? Yes, he's quite a character, that one. Which did he play for you today?"
"He claims he was falsely accused and convicted."
"Yes, the prisons are filled with innocent people. I know it's not my place to intrude on your investigation, but the man is a serial conman. Someone like that would rather climb a tree and tell a lie than stand on the ground and tell the truth."
"I wasn't here for his testimony."
She went outside to Olivia, who was waiting outside. "So, does he exist?"
"I've never wanted someone to exist less." Iris placed her head in her hands. "God, he's as bad as my uncle talking about black women. Fuck."
"Wanna tell me about it over some food?"
"I'd rather wash him out with drink, but either works by me."
She walked with Olivia for a few minutes, and came to a small lot of a few local stores and diners.
"Like I said, I won't pretend that some of my dislike of my uncle is because of who he replaced, but there's much to him that's uglier than my parents were, too. My father never told me that he would only fuck a black woman if he held a clothespin to his nose."
"God, that's fucking gross."
"I know." She sighed. "…and yet, stupid as his comfort was after Natasha died... objectively I found it embarrassing, hokey and stupid. But letting my mind rest back on it, that was still the most comfort I received from anyone besides you. I'm sorry I couldn't recognize that fully then."
"It's okay." Olivia smiled and rubbed Iris's shoulder. "I've been thinking over things, lately, too... things in the past. We can't blame ourselves for not being able to comprehend in the moment. Hey, there's a Mexican place over there. Wanna go?"
"Let's see how crowded it is first."
As they walked up to the Mexican restaurant Iris sensed someone viewing them from across the street, then crossing it over to them. It was Harman Horstmann, and he had a cigarette in his mouth. "Either of you have a lighter?"
"I have a Revenant." said Iris. The air heated around the cigarette's end, and it seeped into flames.
"Terrific."
He walked past them as they entered the restaurant to where few were.