When the big back doors open, I don’t see the witness, but two federal marshals. One holds open the door while the second stands a few feet inside it, awaiting their charge. With a jangling clink of metal on metal, a black man of medium height enters the courtroom with a graceful walk and a twinkle in his eye. Junius Jelks’s hair is gray, but he still looks virile, and he seems to draw keen pleasure from the hundreds of eyes now riveted upon him. As he walks down the aisle, an audible hiss rises from the gallery. The sibilant rush is soft, snakelike, but when it continues without break I realize it must be coming from many mouths at once. This crowd clearly remembers Lincoln’s testimony about how cruel this man was when he acted as Lincoln’s pretend-father. And if the crowd remembers that description, the jury does, too.

When Jelks passes me, I note the handcuffs on his wrists; they look odd on a man wearing what looks like a funeral suit. In my mind’s eye, I see the old con man selling “preordered” Bibles to recently bereaved widows, à la Ryan O’Neal in Paper Moon. He probably dragged Lincoln to every door with him, like the little girl in the movie.

While the clerk swears Jelks in, Rusty leans to my ear and says, “Vondie Curtis-Hall.”

“What?”

“That’s who Jelks looks like, Vondie Curtis-Hall, but old.”

“Rusty, I don’t know these actors.”

“Shit, Vondie’s been in everything from Crooklyn to the Sopranos, but you probably remember him in the movie they made of that James Lee Burke novel. The one with Alec Baldwin as Dave Robicheaux, not Tommy Lee Jones. He played Minos Dautrieve.”

“I guess I need to get out more.”

“He looks just like Cora Revels made him sound. A born con man.”

“What the hell’s he doing here? That’s my question.”

Rusty chuckles and whispers, “Quentin wouldn’t have brought him down from Joliet if he wasn’t going to set off some fireworks.”

“Fireworks are dangerous, Rusty, especially in court.”

Quentin rolls up to his spot beside the lectern and regards his witness sternly. “Mr. Jelks, I see you’ve brought a few people with you today. What is the reason for that?”

Jelks gives a rueful smile. “They’re federal marshals. Apparently they consider me a flight risk.”

“Where did you travel from to be with us today?”

“The Illinois State Prison.”

“What are you presently serving time for?”

“Uhh, they said I tried to bribe a judge, but that’s an oversimplification. A man of your legal experience would see it in a minute. They—”

“I’m going to lead this discussion, Mr. Jelks, if you don’t mind. What was your relation to the victim, Viola Turner?”

“I’m her husband. I was, anyway.”

“How long were you married?”

“Oh . . . ’bout thirtysomething years. Thirty-five or -six.”