Sexton’s video isn’t the most horrifying visual evidence I’ve ever seen—not by a long shot. During my years as an assistant DA in Houston, I heard and saw tapes made by narcissistic rapists, torture-killers, and other assorted freaks. But this video would go a long way toward convincing a jury that Viola Turner didn’t die by her own choice. Worse, many people might reasonably interpret her last words as a direct accusation against my father. I think the recording is equivocal on that point, but you never know how a jury will read something. If my father were vigorously defending himself on the stand (and had a good explanation for what the recording shows), a jury might believe him. But if he sat silently at the defense table, hiding behind the Fifth Amendment, they might well convict him.

“Is there anything but this on the rest of the recording?”

“Just twenty-eight minutes of her lying there.”

“You watched it all?”

“I fast-forwarded through it, but I’m pretty sure.”

My right hand is gripping the door handle so hard that my forearm cramps, but I can’t pull myself away from the computer screen. For the first time I notice the appointments in Viola’s sickroom. On the bedside table stands a white statuette of the Virgin Mary, and hanging on the wall behind the hospital bed are three framed photos: Abraham Lincoln; Martin Luther King Jr.; John and Robert Kennedy standing on the White House Colonnade, looking pensive. The bedside lamp is a faux gas lantern, and it stands on a lace doily—an impractical item to use near a sickbed. I also see a clock-radio, which clearly reads 5:38 A.M.

“Did that look like a morphine overdose to you?” Henry asks.

“No. Is that what Shad thought it was?”

“I think he expected to see a morphine overdose until he saw this.” Henry puts his hand on my arm. “Did I break the law by making a copy of this? Or by showing it to you?”

“That’s probably open to interpretation. But you don’t have to worry about it. I won’t tell a soul I’ve seen it.”

“I trust you. I just don’t trust Shad Johnson.”

“You’re not alone in that.” I take a deep breath, then rub my eyes until I see stars. “I don’t mean to keep you, but you said Shad mentioned my father to you?”

“When I first got to his office, he said he thought he had an assisted suicide situation on his hands. He said Viola and your father had some kind of pact about it. But after he saw this, I got a very different feeling.”

“What did he say afterward?”

“Just that the drive was evidence and he had to keep it. But everything had changed somehow. It was more his demeanor than anything else. I had the feeling he was gloating inside. You know?”