“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a witness get on the stand and confess to murder without being forced or tricked into it,” Shad Johnson begins.
My father regards Shad without much interest. “Is that a question?”
“The question, Dr. Cage, is why? Why did you confess to that crime? Why, after thirty-eight years of silence, did you admit to being an accessory to murder in court, and open yourself to further charges by the State?”
Dad takes a long breath. “I want people to understand the depth of hatred that existed between the Double Eagle group and Viola Turner. And more than that, I want them to know the truth.”
Hallelujah, says a voice in my head. And the truth shall set you in Parchman Farm.
“I don’t think that’s the reason,” Shad says, half turning toward the jury. “I’ve been sitting there asking myself why you did that. It took me a minute, but now I know. You’re being very subtle, you and your attorney. You’re doing something that Lincoln Turner described yesterday in his moment of greatest anger, only he didn’t know then how prescient his assessment would prove to be.”
Shad faces the jury. “Lincoln warned us that Dr. Cage and his lawyer were doing exactly what his stepfather had trained him to do—what all con men and magicians do. They get us to focus on one hand while the other dips into our pockets and does the real business. Well, ladies and gentlemen, that’s what is happening before our eyes.”
Every eye in the jury box is on Shad, waiting for him to tell them how they’re being tricked. Shad looks back at Dad.
“You admitted to helping Viola kill Frank Knox because in hindsight that killing looks justified—even heroic. Remember the so-called DA’s test that Mr. Avery told us about in his opening statement? His famous two questions? One: Did the victim need killing? And two: Did the right person do the killing? Well, in Frank Knox’s case, the answer to both questions would be a resounding yes, at least in our hearts. Admitting to helping kill a gang rapist and murderer might technically carry a penalty, but it buys you an enormous amount of sympathy from the jury. By forthrightly confessing to one killing, you hope to buy our faith that you’re telling the truth when you deny a different one. You draw our attention to Frank Knox with one hand, while the other injects Viola Turner with deadly adrenaline. But we will not be taken in. Killing Viola Turner was a vile, shameful act—”
“Your Honor,” Quentin says in a weary voice, “did I fall asleep and wake up for the district attorney’s closing argument? I thought this was supposed be a cross-examination.”
Several lawyers titter in the rows behind me, but Joe Elder silences them with his dark eyes.
Shad turns back to my father. “There’s another reason you spoke so openly about that murder. It’s because you’re afraid that very soon we will be viewing the tape that Viola Turner made for Henry Sexton. And when that happens, we will find out about that crime in any case.”
Dad says nothing to this, and his face betrays no more.
“Isn’t that why you confessed to helping to commit and conceal that crime, Dr. Cage?”
“I’m not that devious, Mr. Johnson.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Doctor. You were devious enough to carry on a secret affair with your employee while you were married. Devious enough to send her money for thirty-seven years without your family’s knowledge. Devious enough to conceal your part in a murder for the same amount of time. You’ve admitted all this under oath.”
Devious my father may be, but I’m betting his reckless honesty and conviction moved at least one or two jury members.
“Mr. Johnson,” Dad replies, “the only thing you just listed that felt wrong to me was having the affair. Hiding it from my wife. A few minutes ago, I swore to tell the whole truth and nothing but. I intend to do that, come hell or high water. What happened back then has been secret for too long. That’s why I admitted my part in Frank Knox’s murder. That son of a bitch deserved to die, and whoever killed Viola deserves the same treatment.”
Shad starts to protest, but in the end he settles for shaking his head in amazement.
“Do you know what strikes me most about your testimony, Doctor? That so little of it can be substantiated. Oh, it’s a known fact that Snake Knox was a member of the Double Eagle group. But there’s no proof whatever that he or anyone else threatened to kill Viola Turner. No one has come forward with any audiotape, and the police found nothing like that at the crime scene.”
When I glance back at Lincoln, I find him staring a hole through me. He knows that such a tape exists—or did—yet he says nothing. Would he sell me that tape for a million dollars now? Or would he rather watch his father twist in the wind? Or has he taken the choice out of his own hands by destroying it, as he threatened to do?
“The things you attribute to Will Devine cannot be substantiated,” Shad goes on, “for the man himself is dead.”
“Murdered before our eyes,” Dad responds. “After coming forward voluntarily to testify against his former comrades in arms. Don’t you find that a little suspicious?”
Shad’s temper shows in his taut smile. “Dr. Cage, I can’t account for the private feuds of former Ku Klux Klansmen. If Mr. Devine corroborated any of your statements on the record before he died, I’d certainly welcome seeing the evidence. But my understanding is that Mr. Devine refused to tell the FBI anything about what he was going to say on the stand.”
Dad shrugs. “I believe Mr. Devine meant to unburden his soul before he died. I can relate to that sentiment.”
“Can you really? As for all you claim that Viola Turner said on the night she died, we have only your word for it—you, the man accused of killing her. And that brings us to the only evidence we may actually be able to use to test you. The erased videotapes.”
Again Dad shows no reaction.
“Dr. Cage, you admitted that you erased one tape after Mrs. Turner’s death because it contained information you couldn’t bear to have made public.”
“I didn’t say I couldn’t bear it. I said I would prefer my wife and children not have to deal with it.”
“Hair-splitting, Doctor. But what I wonder is, what else did that tape contain? Did it show you killing Viola Turner?”
“No.”
“You’re under oath, sir.”
“It couldn’t have shown that. Because I didn’t kill Viola.”
I shake my head, knowing that Shad’s sole objective is to elicit statements from my father that the tapes will prove were lies.
“Did it show you injecting her with morphine?”
“No.”
“Do you appear on that tape at all?”
“No. Viola finished making that tape before I ever arrived at the house that night. She talked about me on it, but that’s all.”
God, I hope he’s telling the truth. Surely he knows he must—
“Let’s talk about the tape that was in the video camera when you arrived.”
“I didn’t know there was a tape in that camera.”