Martinez: *Jodi Arias, did you order the Code Hirsute?*

Judge: You *don't* have to answer that question!

Arias: I'll answer the question!

[to Martinez]

Arias: You want answers?

Martinez: I think I'm entitled to.

Arias: *You want answers?*

Martinez: *I want the truth!*

Arias: *You can't handle the truth!*

[pauses]

Arias: Son, we live in a world that has pussies, and those pussies have to be guarded by women with hair. Who's gonna do it? You? You, Lt. Weinburg? I have a greater responsibility than you could possibly fathom. You weep for Alexander, and you curse the French. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know. That Alexander's death, while tragic, probably saved lives. And my coont, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives. You don't want the truth because deep down in places you don't talk about at parties, you want hair on that pussy, you need hair on that pussy. We use words like muff, carpet, matching drapes. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending something. You use them as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very furburger that I provide, and then questions the manner in which I provide it. I would rather you just said thank you, and went on your way, Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a comb, and stand a post. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you are entitled to.

Martinez: Did you order the Code Hirsute?

Arias: I did the job I...

Martinez: *Did you order the Code Hirsute?*

Arias: *You're Goddamn right I did!*