“Yes, sir.”
Cora’s reply hits me like a line drive in the solar plexus. I can only imagine the horror my mother must be feeling now, for if this is true, who can believe that Dad wasn’t sending that money to take care of an illegitimate child? A married man might send his old lover money for a few months, maybe even a year or two. But nearly thirty years? My God. Even with Mom’s iron constitution, how can she sit in that courtroom without staring at Dad in shock and fury? After what he told me about being ignorant of Lincoln’s existence until the night Viola died, I know I couldn’t.
“There was many a month that Viola and that boy would have gone hungry without that money,” Cora goes on. “Later on, it helped with Lincoln’s schooling. Sometimes Junius drank up every cent Cora earned as a nurse. Or used it in some scam of his, some get-rich-quick scheme. That was probably the thing that made me keep the secret so long. I thought if it ever came out that Dr. Cage was Lincoln’s father, that money might stop coming. So I kept quiet.”
“I understand, Miss Cora. Lord, Lord. Any sister would have done the same.”
Shad’s attempt to emulate Quentin’s folksy manner is clumsy, but without the genuine article to compare him to, the jury might just be buying it. How the hell can Quentin sit quiet through all of this?
“So when,” Shad asks, “did Junius Jelks learn that Lincoln was not the son of a Vietnam war hero, as he’d been told?”
“Oh, that was a few years after Mama passed. About 2001, or the year after. Junius found an old newspaper notice of James’s death. Maybe somebody from Natchez sent him one, I don’t remember. Anyway, Junius knew right away that James Turner couldn’t have fathered that boy. James had been killed eighteen months before Lincoln was born.
“What did Mr. Jelks do when he learned about this?”
“First, he beat Viola, for lying to him.”
“Did Viola tell him the truth at that point?”
“No, sir. She tried to tell him that old story of a one-night stand, but Junius didn’t believe it. He just kep’ on beating her.”
“What did she tell him then?”
“She told him about the Klan rape back here in Natchez.”
“And did Mr. Jelks believe that story?”
“Yes, sir. He did.”
“Did he come to you for confirmation?”
“Sho’ did.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I stuck by my sister. I told Junius that Lincoln had been fathered by a black man in that one-night stand. And Lincoln was always pretty dark-skinned, so Junius couldn’t be sure. Vee was terrified of what he might do to Lincoln if he really thought he’d been tricked into raising a boy with Klan blood in him . . . Junius couldn’t abide that.” There’s a pause, then Cora says: “I wish now that I’d just told Junius the truth about Dr. Cage right off, because what he told Lincoln in the end caused him terrible pain. But Lincoln can tell you about that better than I can.”
“And he will,” Shad promises the jury. “But before you step down, tell us this, if you will. Why would Viola fall back on the Klan rape rather than admit Lincoln had been fathered by a reputable white doctor? Did she do that only to protect Tom Cage?”
“For God’s sake,” I mutter. Any prelaw student would know to object at this point. Cora Revels cannot read minds and consequently cannot testify to what her sister might have been thinking when she made any given decision. But the hissing silence of the cell connection tells me that Quentin Avery is sitting as mute and motionless as an Easter Island statue.
“I’ve thought about that a lot,” Cora says. “Maybe you got to be a woman to understand this, but . . . as bad as that rape story was, one thing would have torn up Junius Jelks even more than that.”
“What’s that, Miss Cora?”
“Knowing there was a white man somewhere that Viola had loved in a way she could never love him. And if Viola had said Dr. Cage’s name out loud just once, Junius would have seen the truth in her eyes. He was quick that way. So she buried it down deep, deep as she could, and told a terrible lie that was partway true.”
Several seconds of silence follow this. Then Shad speaks in a mournful tone. “That’s a hard story to listen to, Miss Cora. You look worn out. I’m going to let you go in just a minute. But first tell us this. Did Junius Jelks never hear that rape rumor himself?”
“No, sir. He never spent much time in Natchez.”
“Lots of black folks moved up to Chicago from here during those years.”
“Yes, but they didn’t want to tell such a terrible tale on Vee, and nobody knew for sure it had happened. The Klan might have spread that tale just to get Jimmy, which they did. No black folks wanted to help the Klan spread lies.”
“Except maybe the person who sent Mr. Jelks the Killed in Action notice of James Turner?”
“Yes, sir. Could be.”
There’s a fairly long pause, during which I hear some throat clearing and the sound of heels on hardwood. Then Shad says, “Miss Cora, in all our talk about family and the past, I forgot to ask you one thing. We all saw the video recording that was accidentally made on the hard drive on Henry Sexton’s camera. But let’s talk about the camera that hard drive was attached to. When did Mr. Sexton put that into the house?”
“About a week before Viola died. Just after his second interview with her.”
“Did he tell you why he was leaving the camera there?”
“Yes. He wanted Viola to be able to record her recollections about the old days, if the mood struck her. That’s why he gave her that remote control.”
“Did she keep the remote control by her bed after Mr. Sexton left?”
“Yes, sir.”
“All that week?”
“That’s right.”
“And was there a tape in that camera?”
“Yes. I saw Mr. Sexton put one in it.”
“Do you know if your sister made any recordings prior to the day of her death?”
“I didn’t see her do it. But I know she did. Sometimes when I’d come in, that remote would be laying on her blanket. I think she was recording whenever I wasn’t around. One time she even asked me to leave, and I saw her pick up that remote.”
“I see. What about the day she died?”
“Well . . . that day was different. Late in the afternoon, Viola asked me to go out for a while. And she gave me some instructions.”
“Which were?”
“She said I should make sure Mr. Henry came back and got his camera the next day.”
“Is that all?”
“No. She told me Dr. Cage would be coming by later, but I shouldn’t say anything about her making a tape for Mr. Henry.”
“Did you do as she said?”
“I was going to. But then she changed her mind.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I got back—before Dr. Cage came that night—Vee told me she’d decided to ask Dr. Cage to give the tape to Mr. Henry.”
“Viola was going to give this videotape to Tom Cage?”