Interior. Daytime. Camera zooms in on a series of bound documents lazing on a judge's desk.
Narrator: At one time, this courthouse would have been full of sealed filings. Flitting about through the hallways, their quiet calls echoing to one another as they played amongst the corridors.
[Music turns more somber, two smaller briefs seem to cling to a larger one with "DENIED" written in large red letters on the cover. despite their plaintiff cries, the larger brief does not stir]
Narrator: (continuing) Following years of habitat destruction, however, these beasts—once as common as pigeons or garden slugs—are on the verge of extinction.
[Music swells, as camera focuses on sealed papers being seemingly fed into a furnace; then we turn to a verdant valley where things seem brighter, ink flows in a peaceful stream and a jaunty fiddle tune takes over]
Narrator: But one hidden nook remains, untouched by the changes of recent years where a sealed filing can expect to live a long life in the the quiet secrecy that is its true home. That ancestral home is ...
