He makes eye contact with several women on the jury. “I’m not condoning an extramarital affair, ladies and gentlemen. We all know that adultery is wrong. But in extraordinary circumstances, the heart will seek its own comfort. And the flesh is weak, as the Good Book tells us.

“We can’t shy away from human truth in this court, however painful it might be. We have been called here specifically to uncover the truth. But Tom Cage is not on trial for adultery. And he has never denied that he had a relationship with Viola Turner. He didn’t advertise it, mind you, and I don’t blame him. In 1968, a revelation like that would have put his whole family in mortal danger. But neither did Dr. Cage try to deny that he might be Lincoln Turner’s father, once he’d been told of the child’s existence. Why didn’t he try to evade that responsibility? Because he’s not that kind of man. Tom Cage loved Viola, and she loved him in return. Theirs was a tragic affair. They were two good people caught in a bad situation. But whatever sins Tom Cage may have been guilty of in 1968, they have a lot more to do with the Seventh Commandment than the Sixth, which is not, by the way, ‘Thou shalt not kill,’ as most people quote it, but ‘Thou shalt not do murder.’”

While most people in the court try to remember what the Seventh Commandment was, Judge Elder says, “‘Thou shalt not commit adultery.’ That’s the Seventh Commandment.”

“Thank you, Judge,” Quentin says to the younger man, like a Sunday school teacher complimenting his favorite student.

Before Joe Elder can find a way to put Quentin back in his place, the click and whir of the wheelchair sounds, and Avery rolls out from behind the defense table. He steers toward the jury box, but stops a few feet short of it and speaks in a conspiratorial voice.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m going to let you in on a secret of the legal profession. There’s an interesting test that district attorneys apply when they decide whether or not to prosecute a murder case. They ask themselves two questions. One: Did the victim need killing? And two: Did the right person do the killing?” Quentin pauses to let these questions sink in. “If the answer to both those questions is yes, most DAs won’t touch the case with a barge pole.”

While the jury members ponder this, Quentin says, “That logic might seem cynical to laymen, but there’s a sound reason for it. And the reason is, sometimes judges don’t fully define reasonable doubt, and sometimes jurors follow their hearts instead of their heads to find it. We lawyers call that gut sense of right and wrong the Unwritten Law. Why? What is the Unwritten Law? Well, it’s exactly what it sounds—”