Walt gives Shad a bitter smile. “Because you and your wannabe-cowboy sheriff had been trying to frame my best friend for a week. After Tom turned himself in to the FBI, I stayed a night at his house to make sure his wife was okay. The next day, I decided to go back to Louisiana and get my van. Given the situation, I figured the Roadtrek might draw some unwelcome attention from Sheriff Byrd when I crossed back into Mississippi. So I searched it, just to be careful. I found that tape under a seat cushion. I also found a half-empty bottle of Maker’s Mark and a video camera. I’d never seen the tape before, so I put it in the camera and fast-forwarded through it. Wasn’t nothing on it. In the end, I decided to stuff everything in the bag and toss it when I drove back over the bridge. If you want to charge me with littering, go ahead. But I wasn’t going to help anybody frame my best buddy for something he didn’t do.”

An odd smile touches Shad’s lips, and the sight of it strikes fear in my heart.

“Captain Garrity, did Tom Cage ever tell you that he killed Viola Cage? As a mercy killing, even?”

Walt’s face darkens. “No, sir. He did not.”

“I see. Did he ever tell you specifically that he did not kill her?”

“Yes. He did.”

Shad takes a step toward the jury and looks back at Walt. “Captain, is it your deepest conviction that Tom Cage is innocent of the murder of Viola Turner?”

Walt leans forward. “Absolutely.”

Shad nods slowly, then turns to Judge Elder. “Your Honor, at this time I would like to enter an audio recording into evidence as State’s Exhibit Seventeen.”

“What is the nature of this recording?”

“It was made in Navasota, Texas, under a warrant duly ordered by a Texas circuit judge.”

The blood has drained from Walt’s weathered face. Navasota is where Walt lives, where his wife lives. And in this moment Walt is asking himself the same question I am: What the hell has Shad done?

In a short enough span of time for me to know this has been rehearsed, Shad’s assistant rises from the chairs behind him and goes to the side of the courtroom to load a tape into a player.

Quentin could object to this recording and stop it from being played until its authenticity is verified. But I guess he figures it’s going to be admitted in the end, and if he’s going to keep up the appearance of Dad having nothing to hide from the jury, better to let it be played without argument.

Walt must be losing it up there, but he’s been in the witness box enough times to know better than to let anyone see him sweat.

“Ready,” says the ADA.