“But back to the will,” Quentin continues. “Were the bequests specified as your aunt named them?”

“No. Mama didn’t know how much money she would have when she died, so she used percentages to divide whatever she might have left.”

“I see. Were you surprised that she had that much money left when she died?”

Lincoln shrugs.

“The witness will give a verbal response,” Judge Elder says.

“Not really.”

Quentin nods, but he looks troubled. “According to the testimony of both you and your aunt, money was pretty scarce in your household. I’m trying to understand how your mother could have saved seventy-two thousand dollars when her husband was spending everything she made, and she was putting you through college and law school.”

“Once Daddy went to prison, and I was out of school, her bills weren’t so bad. And Mama was always resourceful.”

“I see. So you assume the money came from her salary as a nurse?”

“Where else?”

“Exactly. But let’s leave that for now. Mr. Turner, what did you think of the challenge of your mother’s will by Mr. Sexton’s mother?”

“I thought it was bullshit.”

“Mr. Turner,” the judge snaps. “You know better than that.”

“I’m sorry, Judge. But Judge Carroll in Chicago didn’t think any more of that claim than what I just said.”

“Just watch your language.”

“So the challenge was denied,” Quentin says, “and the original will was affirmed. Tell me, do you know what Mr. Sexton’s movie-in-progress was about?”

“It was a documentary, I think. About the civil rights movement.”

“Don’t you think that’s a cause your mother might have sympathized with?”

“The cause, yes. A homemade film by some white reporter from Ferriday, no.”

“I see. Did your mother ever speak to you about changing her will before she died?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Objection, Your Honor,” Shad says with obvious irritation. “If the defense has a copy of some other will, they should produce it. If they have a reputable attorney who can testify that he drew up such a will, they should call him as a witness. Otherwise, this is all just a waste of the court’s time.”

“We talked about this subject during the sidebar, Mr. Johnson. I will decide what is worthy of the court’s time. Your objections are overruled. Mr. Avery, continue.”

Quentin looks back at Lincoln. “Did your mother ever ask you about how a person might make a holographic will?”

“No. Never.”

“Can you explain to the jury what a holographic will is?”

“I can.”

“Will you, please?”

Lincoln looks at Judge Elder, who nods.

“A holographic will is a handwritten will,” Lincoln says testily. “Handwritten, dated, and signed. All you need to make one is a pen and a piece of paper.”

“Just so,” says Quentin. “Did you ever see any such will written by your mother? Either before or after she died?”