The first question of Quentin’s cross-examination of Cora Revels is spoken in a gentle voice, but it comes through my earpiece with electric effect. The collective intake of breath in the courtroom sounds like a rush of wind. I’ll bet in all his coaching, Shad never prepared Cora Revels for that one.
After a long silence, Viola’s sister says, “I do believe Dr. Tom killed her. I don’t believe he wanted it to hurt like it did, like what we saw on that film. But sometimes even doctors don’t know what a drug will do. A nurse friend of mine told me that.”
“She’s absolutely right,” Quentin says. “I can tell you that from experience. I’ve taken medicines that make my legs hurt, and I don’t even have any legs.”
The crowd laughs hesitantly.
“Would you answer me this, Cora? Do you believe that Dr. Cage killed your sister to fulfill their suicide pact, out of mercy? Or did he do it to stop her from revealing the truth about their affair and the birth of that child? Or—did he do it to cover up whatever crime Viola seemed haunted by? The one she said Dr. Cage had helped her cover up?”
Quentin’s questions nearly knock me out of my chair, so it’s no surprise that Cora seems to be thrown off balance by his apparent willingness to admit that his client might have killed her sister.
“Well, I think . . . both. All of it, I mean. Maybe Dr. Cage didn’t know himself which it was at the time. That’s how people are. I know he loved my sister. But he’d gone a long time without doing right by that child. Lincoln, I mean. And everybody ’round here had thought so highly of him for so long. I think the idea that Natchez would learn the truth about everything was too much for him. Maybe he told himself he was helping Viola out of her pain. But a man that mixed up about what he’s doing ain’t got no business giving suicide drugs to people.”
I can imagine Quentin absorbing this answer like a dutiful soldier standing resolute in the face of cannon fire. Then I hear the high-pitched whir again.
“When Mr. Johnson asked you whether Tom knew that he had a son by your sister, you did not actually answer the question. You said that as of 1996, Dr. Cage had been sending money for twenty-eight years.”
“That’s right.”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean Dr. Cage knew he’d fathered a son by Viola. Does it?”
“Well, sure it does.”
“Your Honor?” says Quentin.
“Ms. Revels, forget the money. Did your sister tell you specifically that Dr. Cage knew he had a son by her?”
The pause that follows this must be killing Shad—to the same degree that it’s sparked hope in my heart—but then Cora says, “Of course she did. The night Mama died. She told me all of that.”
“I see,” Quentin continues. “Cora, did any strange white men visit your house in the weeks before Viola died?”
“What do you mean, ‘strange’?”
“White men you’d never seen before?”
“Your Honor!” Shad cries. “Mr. Avery is blocking my witness!”
Quentin was a tall man before he lost his legs, and with Shad seated, he could easily interpose himself between the eyes of the DA and Cora.
“I’m sorry, Judge,” Quentin says. “I didn’t realize Mr. Johnson was so sensitive about having eye contact with his witness.”
Having made his point that Shad might be signaling his witness, Quentin quickly says, “You were saying, Miss Cora?”
“Well, I wasn’t there all day every day . . . but I didn’t see any men like that.”
“Did your sister tell you that men claiming to be members of the Ku Klux Klan or the Double Eagle group had visited her while you were gone? Threatened her, even?”
“Your Honor!” Shad shouts. “Counsel is blocking my witness again! This is flagrant abuse!”
A broad smile stretches my mouth. Quentin’s gamesmanship with Shad gives me the first real confirmation that he has a strategy and is carrying it out.
“Mr. Avery,” Judge Elder says in a chiding tone, “you do seem to be playing games with your wheelchair. Please move aside.”
“Thank you, Judge,” says Shad.
“Now, the witness will answer the question, whether she can see you or not.”
“No, sir,” says Cora. “Viola didn’t say nothin’ about strange white men comin’ to the house. Any white men, except Mr. Henry. God rest his soul.”
“Miss Cora, earlier you testified that Viola returned to Natchez in 1996 to care for your mother. Do I have that right?”
“Yes. Mama was dying, and we needed her.”
“I see. And did Viola take a tour of her old hometown? Did she go out and see the sights of Natchez? Visit some old restaurants? Or maybe new ones?”
“No, sir. No indeed.”
“Objection, Your Honor,” Shad interrupts. “Relevance.”
“Overruled.”
“Please continue, Miss Cora,” Quentin says gently.
After a pause, Cora Revels says, “Vee and Junius flew into Baton Rouge, then drove up in a rental car after dark. Vee didn’t leave our house the whole time she was in Natchez. She even stayed out of sight when anybody who wasn’t family visited. That way word never got out that she was home. Not out to any white folks, anyway.”
“And why did Viola take those precautions?”
“She didn't want any old klukkers finding out she was here.”
“Because she was under a standing death threat?”
“Objection, Your Honor. Leading the witness.”
“Sustained.”
“I don’t know about any death threat,” Cora says. “But Vee sure didn’t want anybody on the other side of town finding out she was home.”
“By ‘the other side’ of town, did you mean the white side of town?”
“That’s right.”
There’s a silence in which I hear nothing, not even Quentin’s wheelchair. Then, in an incisive voice, he says, “Regarding this crime Viola told you had been bothering her. When was your impression that this had occurred?”
My pulse is still accelerating. Why the hell is Quentin pressing an issue that could lead to new murder charges against his client?
“Oh, long ago. Back before she left Natchez, when she was working for Dr. Cage.”
“I see. Did Viola tell you why she hadn’t told anyone about it before?”
“Judge, I’m forced to point out that counsel is purposefully blocking my view of the witness again.”
“Please return to the podium, Mr. Avery,” Judge Elder says wearily.
This time I don’t hear a whir, but Cora Revels goes on without prompting. She sounds as though she wants to be done with this topic. “Whatever it was, she said the law might have taken her away from Lincoln for it, and that terrified her. They could have hurt Dr. Cage, too. But now that she could see the end coming, she felt like it needed to be told.”
“You had the feeling there was still risk in telling what she’d done?”
“Oh, yes, sir.”
“What about the risk to Dr. Cage? He wasn’t facing a terminal illness. He would have to live with the outcome of whatever Viola got off her chest.”
“I think with all that had happened between them, she felt like she’d protected him long enough. All she really cared about at the end was Lincoln, and getting out the truth about how and why Jimmy and Luther were killed.”
“I understand. But Viola did tell you that Dr. Cage was as guilty as she was?”