OPENING STATEMENT—AFFIRMATIVE COUSEL (THE A-TEAM)

The A-Team rises. No performance. Measured. Human.

A-TEAM

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,

This case is not about assigning meaning to tragedy.

It is not about predicting the future.

And it is not about proving the existence of God.

This case is about human choice—particularly what happens after tragedy or profound life challenge arrives.

The central question before this court is simple:

When fear, grief, or despair are justified, can love still be deliberately chosen—and does that choice matter?

In this proceeding, we define Good narrowly and carefully: not as optimism, sentiment, or denial—but as the deliberate choice of love and forgiveness in the midst of tragedy or life-altering challenge.

We define Evil just as carefully: not as a cartoon villain or a single individual—but as despair, hopelessness, and the absence of love.

This court will hear no claim that tragedy happens for a reason.

No suggestion that suffering is orchestrated, deserved, or justified.

Tragedy will remain what it is: a rupture—often senseless, often devastating.

What is being examined is what follows—how human beings respond once tragedy or moral crisis has already occurred.

You have already heard foundational testimony establishing how this case understands prophecy.

Not as prediction.

Not as mechanism.

Not as supernatural proof.

But as attention—a mode by which the present moral moment becomes unavoidable.

In Scripture, prophecy does not exist to explain catastrophe.

It exists to confront the present—to clarify responsibility, awaken conscience, and invite response.

That is the only sense in which prophecy is used here.

You have also heard testimony about the origin of the numbers that will appear in this case.

They were not chosen in fear.

They were not chosen to predict events.

They were not understood as prophetic at the time they were selected.

They were chosen years before any later tragedy—entirely out of love, relationship, memory, and marriage.

Only later—after a public act of mass violence—did those numbers intersect with a tragedy in a way that arrested attention, not because they explained anything, but because they disrupted ordinary moral distance.

The Plaintiff has been explicit about the limits:

The numbers do not cause events.

They do not predict events.

They do not assign meaning to suffering.

They do not explain evil.

They function only as attention markers—ways human beings notice, remember, and reflect across time.

Coincidences, when discussed, are offered only as corroboration of attention, never as causation.

This court recognizes confirmation bias.

It recognizes pattern-seeking minds.

Skepticism is not only permitted here—it is welcomed.

You will not be asked to believe anything.

You will not be asked to suspend reason.

You will not be asked to accept metaphysical claims.

You will be asked only to consider whether attention itself—when forcibly drawn by tragedy—can become an invitation to responsibility rather than surrender.

Over the course of this proceeding, you will hear from historians, artists, theologians, scientists, musicians, technologists, and human witnesses shaped by loss.

They will not agree on everything.

Disagreement is part of the record.

But they will converge on moments where despair could have prevailed—and did not.

You will hear four encounters with the story of Jesus—not as proof of divinity or claims of causation, but as moments where that story has consistently reframed human attention toward humility, mercy, endurance, and love in the face of suffering.

You will hear American history presented not as a story of inevitable progress, but as a record of recurring moral tests—where fear and injustice often prevailed, and where, at critical moments, they were confronted by deliberate choices that resisted despair and opened space for healing. Through historians, biographers, and firsthand accounts, this court will examine moments when power was abused and when it was restrained; when violence and exclusion shaped outcomes, and when restraint, reconciliation, and responsibility altered them. These witnesses do not offer a flattering portrait of the past. They expose failure, division, and harm. But they also preserve evidence of human agency—moments when individuals and communities chose justice over fear, mercy over vengeance, and repair over resignation. American history is presented here not as proof of moral progress, but as a mirror: reflecting both the costs of despair left unchecked and the fragile, imperfect ways it has sometimes been overcome.

You will hear testimony about music—not as decoration or escape, but as a powerful human response to suffering and hope. From worship music, where communities voice grief, praise, and longing together, to the origins of rock and roll, which emerged from African American spirituals, blues, and gospel as a call for freedom, dignity, and endurance. These musical traditions are built on call and response—one voice raised, another answering—creating communal participation rather than isolation. Again and again, music has functioned as a way people have survived what they could not explain, transforming pain into shared expression and reminding individuals that they are not alone in their suffering.

You will hear testimony about sporting events not as entertainment or diversion, but as shared human moments that concentrate pressure, fear, failure, and hope into public view. In the events examined in Exhibit A, sports function as communal rehearsals of moral choice—where restraint matters, where perseverance is tested, and where individuals and teams confront loss without surrendering to despair. These moments often arise during periods of national tension or collective uncertainty, offering inspiration not because victory is guaranteed, but because effort, discipline, and solidarity are visibly chosen under pressure. In this sense, sports reveal how human beings can endure defeat, honor limits, and still inspire one another—reminding communities that meaning is not found only in winning, but in how one responds when the outcome is uncertain.

And finally, you will hear from someone who faced profound loss and chose love—not as denial, but as deliberate resistance to despair.

All throughout these stories, our prophetic numbers will appear in the background as attention markers in remarkable ways.

If you think this is random and accidental, we will give you an opportunity to test that theory.

There will be no verdict in this case.

But the court will leave you with a question—one the Plaintiff has already posed, and which this entire proceeding examines:

When fear, grief, or despair feel justified—when forgiveness feels unreasonable—when love feels difficult or even impossible—what will you choose?

The A-Team has nothing further at this time.

The A-Team sits. No flourish. The silence does the work.