Jonathan Franklin, the defendant, is on the stand, shifting a bit, sweating a bit. Eyes dart around, looking at the jury, the lawyers, the audience. The prosecutor moves into the foreground.
Prosecutor: "Your Honor, members of the Jury, you've heard the witnesses, seen the evidence presented so far, and have possibly already arrived at your conclusions. However I received new evidence this morning that will remove any doubt in your mind as to Jonathan Franklin's guilt."
He turns around and lifts a boombox from its place on the table, turns back and speaks to the defendant.
Prosecutor: "Mr. Franklin... get up and dance!"
Defense: "I object! Your Honor, this has no bearing on the case whatsoever!"
Prosecutor: "All will be clear within minutes your Honor!"
HizHonor: "I'll allow it."
Prosecutor: "You heard the judge Mr Franklin... shake your booty."
The prosecutor hits play on the boombox, and 'I Like Big Butts' fills the courtroom. Mr. Franklin reluctantly rises, moves in front of the bench and gets down the best he can. It's pretty pitiful. A fair amount of shuffling, awkward starts and stops, and twice he bumps into the stenographer. The prosecutor stops the music at the part where Sir Mix-A-Lot is offering his opinion on silicone parts.
Prosecutor: "That will be all Mr. Franklin. You may return to the stand. Your Honor, members of the Jury, as you can plainly see," points at Mr. Franklin, "GUILTY FEET HAVE GOT NO RHYTHM!"
Pandemonium erupts, the judge bangs his gavel, Mr. Franklin jumps to his feet and starts shouting.
Franklin: "No! NO! I'm white! White I tell you! It proves NOTHING!"
The bailiffs rush forward and subdue Mr. Franklin, removing him from the courtroom as he kicks, screams and spits. The prosecutor stands with his arms folded looking mighty smug and humming about big butts.