"I'm about to keel over, Mike. I've got to get some shut-eye. I'll try and get up at four or five and start on it. I'll sleep at the lab-I've got a cot in my back room-then I'll call you." Bradley rose and walked slowly to the front door with the tip weight in his pocket.

He closed the door behind him silently, almost as an apology.

Rachel looked gutted. "So we're done?"

"No. If that chemical test comes back positive, we may be in business."

31

BRADLEY'S TESTS WEREN'T likely to amount to much, and if he came up empty, our road led right off a cliff. And I had no indication that Hackett would be interested in settlement even if we were interested. He would smell our desperation. The second day of trial opened with the shadow of disaster deepening all around me.

As the clerk called the courtroom to order, I stood. "Your Honor, I have no further questions of the first lady."

The judge looked surprised, as did Hackett, and the judge said, "Call your next witness, Mr. Hackett."

Hackett said, "Your Honor, we call Mrs. Collins to the stand."

She took the oath and sat in the witness chair. She looked at the jury, then at Hackett, who began his questioning by asking about her, not her husband. She testified just as she had in her deposition, only better. She was the perfect Marine wife, faithful, true, loyal, devoted, and smart. Semper fidelis. The jury loved her. They loved everything she stood for, everything she said, and how she said it. I think they all wanted to invite her over to dinner. She went on at length about what a hero her husband was, how much he had sacrificed for the country, how much his injuries hurt him when they were alone, how his titanium jaw was never the same as his real jaw, how his teeth didn't work the way they used to. How he saw himself serving in the Marine Corps until the last possible moment because nothing was greater than serving his country. Hackett had the jury on his side, and they were hanging on every word.

She concluded by saying that although they hadn't had any children, they were happily married and planned on staying married for the rest of their lives. While he hadn't yet begun to look forward to retirement, she had already been thinking about it, the hikes they would take in the mountains, the trip to Europe that he had always promised but they hadn't yet found time or money for, the sailboat trips to the Caribbean that they had considered, even though neither of them knew how to sail, and the mountain condo where they would go skiing every winter in Colorado. The dreams of a married couple looking forward to a little more free time in their lives. Hackett waited until everyone wanted to go with them, then said, "Your witness."

I glanced at the clock. We only had twenty minutes until lunch. I had given Rachel the job of cross-examining Mrs. Collins. I didn't think it would come this early in the trial, but Rachel was ready. She had maybe twenty minutes of questions. Now that it looked like we were cooked, that our theory was wrong, and that the NTSB and Hackett were right, I wasn't sure if we should even ask her any questions. Before I could decide, Rachel stood and decided for me.

"Good morning, Mrs. Collins," Rachel said, her nervousness apparent in her voice, at least to those who knew her well. Rachel was wearing a dark blue pin-striped suit that looked black. She wore heels that made her almost six feet tall.

"Good morning, Ms. Long."

"You paint a picture of your husband, Colonel Collins, that is very complimentary. Well deserved no doubt. But, Mrs. Collins, isn't it true that your husband despised the president?"

A murmur swept through the audience. Mrs. Collins frowned. "No, not that I'm aware of."

"You heard the recording of the cockpit voice recorder here in this courtroom, did you not?"

"Yes."

"Did you hear the section where the copilot, Lieutenant Colonel Rudd, chastised your husband for ignoring the president, who had spoken directly to him?"

"Yes."

"That wasn't respectful, was it?"

"I think he was distracted preparing the aircraft to take off and probably a little concerned about the weather. He was preoccupied." Mrs. Collins had been well prepared. I saw several of the jurors nod.

Rachel continued, "Well, the copilot sure didn't take it that way, did he?"

"I don't know that I'd say that. I thought he was simply pointing out an oversight of courtesy."

Rachel raised her voice only slightly, still proceeding in her gentle way. "Did you hear the rest of the tape where your husband essentially said the president was a fake? That he wasn't related to John Adams or John Quincy Adams?"

"Yes. I heard that."

"You would agree that your husband was less than complimentary about the president."

"My husband was a trivia buff. He loved to know details and play games with other people who didn't know those details. That's just something he always did."

"Well, in this case, the details he was knowledgeable about concerned the family history of the president. And he was critical about the way the president represented that history. Correct?"

"Oh, I don't know that I'd agree with that. I didn't hear it that way."

Rachel grew frustrated. "Mrs. Collins, your husband was obsessed with the president and his politics, wasn't he?"

"I wouldn't say that."

"He disagreed with virtually everything President Adams did, right?"

"I don't really know."

"Mrs. Collins, you would agree that your husband was a conservative, even ultraconservative, wouldn't you?"

"It depends how you mean that, but generally I would agree with that." Mrs. Collins shifted uneasily in her witness chair and glanced at Hackett, who was writing, taking notes, and not giving her any visual cues.

I watched her carefully as Rachel tried to read the witness. "And I think you would agree, perhaps we could even stipulate, that since President Adams ran on a moderate-to-liberal Democrat platform, and proudly called himself a 'modern liberal,' or sometimes a 'progressive,' it's fair to say that your husband disagreed with much of what the president stood for politically, right?"

"Depending on what in particular you're talking about, but, yes."

"Mrs. Collins, your husband had an extensive library, did he not?"

"Yes, he did."

"During the discovery in this case we had every book in his library copied so that we could review the numerous margin notes in his books. Did you know that?"

"Yes."

"And he read those books extensively, did he not? They weren't just for looks, to have a big library."

"Yes. He did."

"Mostly books about politics, international affairs, but also conspiracy theories and some what might be called 'fringe' writing on who was really running the world contrary to what all the rest of us believe. Fair?"

She smiled. "Perhaps."

Rachel went to the counsel table, picked up an exhibit, and put it on the ELMO, essentially a television camera suspended over a flat, illuminated base that projected Whatever was on the base onto numerous screens around the courtroom. It was a modern overhead projector, but much more useful-you could lay a helicopter-gear bearing on it, or your hand, or a pen, or a document, and project it to the courtroom. In this case Rachel pulled out a copy of one of Collins's margin notes. Rachel continued, "Let me show you what's been marked previously as Exhibit 274. It is a copy of a page from a book from your husband's library. The title of the book was The Real Government. This is page seventy-one of that book. Do you see the paragraph bracketed is discussing the forces that supposedly control the U.S. government with strings, 'like puppets'? Can you see what your husband has written on the left side of that paragraph?"