My first impression of Shad Johnson is of a man in motion. Before I can adequately focus on the figure sitting behind the desk, he is rising and coming around it, right hand extended. A few inches shorter than I, Johnson carries himself with the brash assurance of a personal-injury lawyer. He is light-skinned—not to a degree that would hurt him with the majority of black voters, but light enough that certain whites can reassure themselves about his achievements and aspirations by noting the presence of Caucasian blood. He shakes my hand with a natural politician’s grip, firm and confident and augmented by a megawatt of eye contact.

“I’m glad you came,” he says in a measured tenor. “Take a seat.”

He leads me to a folding chair across from his spartan metal desk, then sits atop the desk like a college professor and smiles. “This is a long way from my office at Goldstein, Henry in Chicago.”

“Up or down?”

He laughs. “Up, if I win.”

“And if you lose? Back to white-shoe law in Chicago?”

His smile slips for a nanosecond.

“You said my family is in danger, Mr. Johnson.”

“Shad, please. Short for Shadrach.”

“All right, Shad. Why is my family in danger?”

“Because of your sudden interest in a thirty-year-old murder.”

“I have no interest in the murder of Del Payton. And I intend to make a public statement to that effect as soon as possible.”

“I’m relieved to hear you say that. I must have taken fifty calls today asking what I’m doing to help you get to the bottom of it.”

“What did you tell them?”

“That I’m in the process of putting together the facts.”

“You didn’t know the facts already?”

Johnson examines his fingernails, which look professionally manicured. “I was born here, Mr. Cage, but I was sent north to prep school when I was eleven. Let’s focus on the present, shall we? The Payton case is a sleeping dog. Best to let it lie.”

The situation is quickly clarifying itself. “What if new evidence was to come to light that pointed to Payton’s killer? Or killers?”

“That would be unfortunate.”

His candor surprises me. “For local politicians, maybe. What about justice?”

“That kind of justice doesn’t help my people.”

“And the Payton family? They’re not your people?”