77

Unfortunately for us, Rafael Rivera decided to dress like he was up for an MTV award. He wore a dark-purple pin-striped suit with a pink shirt and a broad, striped tie. His shoes were light purple and pointed at the ends, making his feet look gigantic. I had told him to dress like he was going to church. I decided next time I would be more specific.

Bill Masterson walked to the middle of the courtroom and buttoned his old gray suit. It must have been a favorite, because it was nearly threadbare. He had on a white shirt that wouldn’t quite button at the neck and was held together by his tie. Bill liked to project a man-of-the-people image.

Rivera smiled and preened while he testified about his relationship with his former attorney. The witness couldn’t decide whether to look at the jury or at Masterson, so he sprinkled his eye contact around the courtroom as if he were a rock star everyone wanted to admire.

“Did there come a time when Mr. Tate asked whether you could provide access to certain narcotics?” Masterson asked.

Rivera chuckled. “He didn’t have to ask. He knew.”

“Did you provide him with any?”

Rafael tilted his head a little. “Do OxyContin and codeine qualify?”

“That’s what I’m asking,” Masterson said disgustedly.

“Oh yeah. We started back in September, and then I got a big shipment in November. Anyway . . . yeah, I gave him a few drugs.”

“To the best of your memory, precisely when did you start providing drugs to Mr. Tate?”

Rivera looked at the ceiling and then over at the jury before turning back to Masterson. “Woulda been September of last year. Coupla weeks after Labor Day.”

“Other than OxyContin and codeine, did you provide any additional drugs to Mr. Tate?”

“One time. Got him some morphine. He said his wife was in a lot of pain. That was back in the summer sometime.”

“Why did the defendant say he needed the OxyContin and codeine?”

Rivera spread his palms. “He was a good customer. He was also my mouthpiece. I didn’t ask a lot of questions.”

“Did there come a time when you approached Ms. Brock with this information?”

Rafael smiled at me, and I wanted to slap him.

“Once I saw Mr. Tate get busted for offing his wife, I knew I had something you folks might want. When the po-leece picked me up on another drug charge, I approached Ms. Brock and told her I’d be willing to deal.”

“Did Ms. Brock believe what you told her?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Caleb Tate begin to rise, but then he brushed it off.

“No, the—” Rafael stopped, catching himself short. “The woman dissed me. Blew me off.”

“Do you have any personal knowledge as to why she might have changed her mind?”

“I told her about the morphine. Apparently nobody was supposed to know about that. The reports on the fingernails and stuff weren’t out there yet, and so that’s when she knew I was straight up.”

“Objection,” Tate said. “He’s not a mind reader. Move to strike.”

“Sustained.”

Masterson shrugged. “What were you given in exchange for your testimony today?”

“I got off on time served on the drug charge. Plus—” Rafael gave Caleb Tate a sly grin—“I got to fire my attorney.”

“Do you have any text messages or phone calls that would verify these drug purchases?”

This made Rafael chuckle. “Sorry, Mr. Masterson. We don’t keep very good records on our drug deals.”

Masterson looked at the judge, contempt for the witness written on his face. “That’s all the questions I have for this man,” Masterson said. He walked back to counsel table and sat down next to me, slouching in his chair. I caught myself grinding my teeth.

I had been dreading this moment since the day I’d talked to Caleb Tate after the Georgia Supreme Court arguments. I knew Tate would tear into Rafael Rivera, trying to expose my father and Judge Snowden in the process. Masterson had said he was ready. He would object at the first hint that Tate was trying to bring my father into it and ask for a private conference with the judge. He was convinced we could keep my father’s record in front of Judge Snowden out of the case.

I wasn’t so sure. My hands were leaving sweat marks on the glass top of the counsel table. My heart felt like it was trying to escape my chest. And at that moment, if I had it to do all over again, I would have taken the advice of Masterson and dropped the case against Caleb Tate weeks earlier when we still had the chance.