Shad Johnson’s first witness after lunch is neither Cora Revels nor Lincoln Turner, but my father’s personal nurse for the past fifteen years, Melba Price. This choice surprises me. Melba will project a symbolic power from the stand, because she is the modern version of Viola. She loves and respects my father, and she will help him if she can. Moreover, she is beloved in the town, much as Viola was in her day. No matter what the facts may seem to say, Melba’s belief in my father’s innocence, if she expresses such faith, will carry a lot of weight with the African-American women on the jury. So why does Shad take the risk of putting her on the stand?

It’s the adrenaline, I realize. One weakness of Shad’s forensic case is that no empty adrenaline ampoule was found at the death scene, unlike the morphine vial with Dad’s fingerprint on it. Leo Watts, the pharmacist, proved that Dad had written adrenaline prescriptions for himself in the past, but not anywhere near the date of Viola’s murder. Shad must be confident that Melba will prove that Dad had ready access to the drug, and in the time frame of Viola’s murder.

As Rusty’s texts start to trickle in, they verify my instinct. Judge Elder grants Shad permission to treat Melba as a hostile witness, and soon the DA is leading her like a child. To Rusty’s horror, and mine, Melba gets no protection from Quentin, who ought to be objecting to some questions, if only to break up Shad’s rhythm. Rusty’s furious texts come through as the modern-day equivalent of a Morse code SOS, but I can easily imagine the damage Melba is doing, even as she tries her best to save the man that she’s served and respected for so long.

Through Melba, Shad establishes that my father keeps a supply of adrenaline at his office to resuscitate coding patients, even though they don’t have a true crash cart there. Melba also reveals that the record keeping at the office is not detailed enough to know for sure whether any adrenaline might be missing. Dad’s clinic is not like a hospital with strict accounting and supply procedures—except with narcotics—and adrenaline, while potentially dangerous, is not a narcotic. In a bid to bypass the marital privilege, Shad asks Melba (rather than my mother) whether she has personal knowledge of Dad keeping adrenaline at his residence, but she evades this trap with a simple “I don’t know.” But when asked directly whether Dad regularly kept adrenaline in his “black bag,” the kit he used during house calls, Melba concedes that he did. What else could she say? Any competent physician would stock adrenaline in the bag he carried with him to handle potential emergencies, and she makes this point before Shad can shut her down.