That is not a typo. Forty-seven days.
The ruling presumably leaves him with no facial expression at all.
He managed to get out of this water hazard, but it didn’t do him much good.
But coincidentally, four metric tons of them were missing from a nearby warehouse.
His long-term strategy is frankly unclear.
“Hm, well, I don’t see anything else on the docket, but I imagine the detectives here would be happy to look into it.”
No, not between “I” and “Want a Lawyer Dog,” as if he were referring to himself, Mr. Want a Lawyer Dog. Please try to take this more seriously. Dog.
In which evidence of three burps is held adequate to support a conviction.
Although his smirk has not yet wavered.