“And what plan did we agree on?”

“We asked a Louisiana judge to write a search warrant on that van, specifying videotapes among some other articles.”

“And then?”

“A Concordia deputy searched the van right there in the garage.”

“And what did he find?”

“Several articles, among them one Sony mini-DV videotape, pressed up under one of the cushions that serves as a mattress in that vehicle. A Sony videotape that had been used but recorded over. Erased, in other words.”

“What did you do then?”

“I went down to the Ferriday Walmart and bought some Sony tapes exactly like those Henry Sexton had delivered to Viola Turner’s house.”

I’m not quite sure what’s coming, but a dizzy sensation of falling tells me that it won’t be good.

“And what did you do with those tapes?”

“I opened one and recorded sixty minutes of footage with the lens cap on.”

“Just what you would have done if you were going to erase a prerecorded tape.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And then?”

“I gave it to the CPSO deputy who had conducted the search. He removed the tape from Mr. Garrity’s van and bagged it as evidence. But he left the new erased tape in its place. We also left the van in place, as though it had never been searched.”

“Why did you do that?”

“So that Mr. Garrity wouldn’t realize that the tape hidden in his van had been found by the authorities.”

Shad turns away from Sheriff Byrd for a few seconds, giving the jury time to think about what has become a television cop show.

“Was there anything special about the tape you replaced Mrs. Turner’s tape with?”

Byrd tries and fails to conceal a smile of satisfaction. “Yes, sir. I planted a little GPS tracking device in it, so we could know where that substitute tape was at all times. We also planted a similar device on Mr. Garrity’s van, one that worked on a different frequency.”

“I see. Did you learn anything else from the videotape?”

“Yes, sir. Our fingerprint man determined that there were two sets of fingerprints on the tape.”

“To whom did they belong?”

“The majority belonged to Henry Sexton, but there were several others that belonged to Dr. Tom Cage.”

A hundred heads in front of me turn and look at the person next to them.

“And how did your expert match those?” Shad asks.

“The same way he matched the ones on the morphine vial. From the prints Dr. Cage gave in Jackson when he applied for his concealed-carry permit back in 1991.”

“I see.” Shad looks at the jury as he asks his next question. “When did all this take place, Sheriff?”