75

We spent Thursday trying to nail down the elusive issue of motive. A financial expert named Nathaniel Barnes took the stand and testified about the financial status of Caleb Tate’s law firm prior to his wife’s death. The firm had lost nearly four hundred thousand dollars and had laid off three young associates. Tate’s personal finances were in no better shape. He had borrowed heavily against his house and maxed out all of his credit cards. He’d sold two expensive automobiles. Rikki had a million-dollar life insurance policy payable to Caleb if she died. Caleb and Rikki had a prenuptial agreement, so he wasn’t worried about alimony. But Rikki didn’t work outside the home. To Caleb Tate, she was worth more dead than alive.

Tate wasted no time debunking Barnes’s allegations. He established that the policy had been in place for two years and hadn’t been increased during the last six months of Rikki’s life. The life insurance company hadn’t paid out yet and never would if Caleb were convicted of murder.

The cross-examination ended with an exchange that showed how quick Caleb Tate was on his feet.

“Are you really suggesting that I would kill my wife and risk a murder conviction just to get out of a financial jam? Haven’t you ever heard of bankruptcy, Mr. Barnes?”

“I doubt that you would ever seriously consider bankruptcy,” Barnes said. “It has a stigma.”

“And murder doesn’t?” Tate asked.

I objected, but the judge let him answer.

“Yes, of course it does,” Barnes admitted.

In my heart of hearts, I didn’t really believe that Caleb Tate had killed his wife for money. LA believed Tate was having a fling with his legal assistant, though we had never been able to develop the kind of proof needed for court. We hadn’t been able to drum up one incriminating text message or e-mail. We hadn’t found one eyewitness, just a lot of rumor and disgruntled former coworkers who said Caleb and his assistant “couldn’t keep their hands off each other.” According to the associates he had laid off, “everybody in the office knew they were having an affair.” But judges have a few choice words for that kind of testimony—hearsay, speculative, and inadmissible.

I wasn’t so sure Tate was even having an affair. For me, it was more a question of the glamour wearing off. Rikki was no longer the ex-Vegas showgirl. She was a Christian. Someone not willing to be Tate’s suggestively dressed eye candy at the cocktail parties. Someone whom Tate could no longer control.

Barnes was followed by the emergency responders who took the stand and explained what they had seen and heard on the night Rikki Tate died. Caleb Tate’s statements to police officers from that night were admitted into evidence. He’d told them that Rikki had been taking drugs for some time but that he didn’t know the specifics of where she got them or what she was taking. The police had found promethazine in the medicine cabinet and the half-empty bottles of OxyContin and codeine in Rikki Tate’s dresser drawer.

I ended the day with the testimony of Elizabeth Franks, Rikki’s best friend from Alpharetta Community Church. Elizabeth had befriended Rikki and played a large role in Rikki’s conversion. For the year and a half prior to Rikki’s death, Elizabeth had attended a women’s Bible study with Rikki, and the two became soul mates over coffee. She testified about Rikki’s determination to get her embarrassing pictures removed from the Internet and Caleb Tate’s lack of support. She testified about the problems Rikki had experienced in her marriage and how she had requested prayer for Caleb. But most importantly, Elizabeth testified about how Rikki had changed with her new faith and how much she was enjoying life. She loved the women at the church and had found something worth living for. Nobody could listen to Elizabeth’s testimony and think Rikki was suicidal.

Caleb Tate came out swinging. Did you know that your good friend Rikki Tate was ingesting large amounts of oxycodone and codeine even after her conversion? No, Elizabeth didn’t know that. Wouldn’t that be something you would expect such a good friend to share? Yes. Did you notice any signs that she was addicted? No. She didn’t act funny or lethargic or out of it? No, not really.

The subtlety of what Caleb Tate was doing might have been lost on Elizabeth Franks, but it wasn’t lost on me. Addicts can tolerate higher and higher levels of the same drug without it having much effect. He was painting the picture of Rikki as a functioning addict, taking more and more of the narcotics until one night she just accidentally overdid it. I knew we would hear about this testimony again during Tate’s closing.

“You read about my wife’s lawsuits trying to get her topless pictures removed from various websites?”

“She told me about them.”

“But you also saw reports about those lawsuits on TV, right?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think that did to the traffic on those websites?”

Elizabeth hesitated before answering, but there was no way out. “It probably increased it.”

“Would it surprise you to know that it increased the traffic by 9,000 percent?”

“I don’t know. Not really.”

“Did it ever dawn on you and the other women praying for my lost soul that maybe I was just trying to protect my wife by keeping her from filing those lawsuits? That maybe I didn’t want to see her become a sex object for millions of perverts all over this country?”

Elizabeth appeared surprised by the assertion. “I guess I never looked at it that way.”

Caleb Tate walked back to his counsel table, but I knew he wasn’t done. I had seen him do this to several witnesses during Antoine Marshall’s trial. It was like the Columbo routine—turning around as if he had just remembered one last question.

“Oh, one more thing. . . . You testified that I seemed controlling; do you remember that?”

“Yes.”

“That Rikki would have to call me to get authorization even to use the credit card for a fifty-dollar purchase?”

“Yes. I saw that happen several times.”

“Have you ever lived with a drug addict before, Ms. Franks?”

“No, sir. I haven’t.”

“Then you probably didn’t realize that one of the things you do is try to cut off the source of the drugs. And this means controlling that person’s spending very tightly. Did you realize that?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No, sir, I didn’t.”

“I didn’t think so,” Caleb said. “Thank you for your honesty.”

I had wanted to end the day on a high note, but Caleb Tate was no slouch. It seemed that for every witness I put on the stand he was able to raise enough questions to muddy the waters. And so far, I had only been questioning my best witnesses. This part of the case should have been my high-water mark. Instead, I felt like Tate was landing one body blow after another.

And I knew he would go for the knockout punch tomorrow.