Текст книги "The Simple Truth"

Автор книги: David Baldacci

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

You believe someone took him there and killed him?

More to the point, someone took him from inside the Court to the park and killed him.

Sara gaped. Meaning the killer was here?

Fiske nodded. I dont know if the person works here, but I believe he was physically present here last night.

What could Steven have seen that cost him his life?

I think he saw someone go into Mikes office. Yesterday, Wright heard Chandler tell everyone that the office was off limits toeveryone.Whoever went into Mikes office might not have known that Wright was inhisoffice. I assume you dont broadcast when youre working late.

Like last night, often we dont even know until the last minute.

Right. So somebody goes into the office looking for something

Like what?

Who knows? Copies of the appeal that Mike took. Telephone messages, something on his computer.

But thats an awfully big risk. Theres security here twenty-four hours a day.

Well, if the person knew the police were going to search the office thoroughly the next morning, hed only have a limited amount of time to do it.

That makes sense.

So Wright hears something, or hes finished his memo, he comes out, and runs right into whoever.

If your theory is correct, do you think Steven knew the person who killed him?

Fiske took a deep breath and sat back. I think he had to. Otherwise he wouldve raised the alarm right away. And I saw Dellasandro lock the door to Mikes office. Theres no sign of forced entry. The person had a key.

But someone must have seen something, then.

Not necessarily. If the killer is familiar with the layout of the Court, then hed know ways to avoid being seen with Wright until they got out of the building.

So it might be somebody he trusted.

Fiske looked at her. Like one of the justices?

Sara stared back, horrified. Ill accept a lot, but I cant accept that. She had a sudden thought. Maybe it was McKenna? Steven would have trusted him, FBI and all.

How could McKenna be involved in this?

I dont know. Hes the first one who occurred to me.

Because hes not with the Court and he slugged me?

Sara sighed. Probably. Then she remembered something and tore through the papers on her desk until she found it. I can tell you about what time Steven left. She picked up the memo Wright had left for her. Across the top of the memo was a date and time stamp. She flipped the papers around so Fiske could see it.

The word-processing system automatically puts the date and time stamp on documents because we go through so many drafts. That way we can quickly tell whats current or not.

Fiske looked at the time stamp. This was printed out at one-fifteen this morning.

Thats right. Steven finished the memo, printed it out, put it on my desk and then presumably left.

And saw whatever he saw.

Sara suddenly looked puzzled. Wait a minute. Something doesnt make sense here. When a clerk works late, ordinarily what happens is one of the Court police officers will give the clerk a ride home, if you live nearby. She looked at Fiske. The police here are really good to us.

And at one-fifteen the metros not running, is it?

No. Besides that, Steven lived barely a five-minute car ride from here. Hes gotten rides home before.

So the chances are very good that Wright got a ride home from somebody at the Court?

Leaving here at one-fifteen in the morning, Id say it was a really safe bet.

How about a cab, though? Maybe at that hour there werent enough guards to spare to take him home.

Sara looked doubtful. I guess its possible.

If a police officer did take him home, that should be easy enough to check. Ill tell Chandler.

So where does that leave us?

Fiske shrugged. We need to see Harmss military file. Ive got an old friend with the Army JAG. Im going to call and see if he can help expedite the process. Until we know whos involved in all this, I want as few people as possible to know were looking around.

Sara shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself.

You know what? she said. Im starting to become terrified of what the truth might be.

["C40"]CHAPTER FORTY

While Sara went back to work, Fiske telephoned his lawyer friend at the JAG office, Phil Jansen, and relayed his request. Among other things, he asked Jansen to obtain a list of the personnel stationed at Fort Plessy during the time Rufus Harms was there. When Fiske rejoined Chandler, he related his theory of why Wright had been killed. Chandler was impressed. Well check the cab companies too. We can only hope somebody saw or heard something.

Chandler stared intently at the young man. So, did you find out anything interesting with Ms. Evans during your time together last night?

I think shes a good person. A little impulsive, but a good person. Very smart.

Anything else? At our initial meeting, Ramsey said that she and your brother were close. She have any reason why he might have been killed?

You might want to ask her that.

Well, Im asking you, John. I thought we were a team. He moved closer to Fiske. Ive got way too much I dont understand on the front end of this case without having to watch my backside. You were a police officer; you should understand about covering somebodys backside.

Fiske said angrily, I never let a partner down.

Good to hear. So tell me about last night.

Fiske looked away, thinking how best to handle this. Withholding information was not the best course. So how could he do the right thing with Chandler and avoid destroying Saras life and his brothers reputation?

Can we get some coffee around here?

In the cafeteria. Ill even buy.

A few minutes later they were in the ground-floor cafeteria. The Courts afternoon session was in progress and thus the cafeteria was fairly empty. Fiske sipped on his coffee while Chandler watched him.

John, it cant be that bad, unless you tell me youre the one running around popping people.

Buford, if I tell you something, then you have very specific rules as to what you do with that information and who else learns that information.

Thats true. And those rules are whats stopping you from coming clean?

What do you think?

I think lets talk hypotheticals, okay? Now, my job is to collect the facts and to use those facts to ultimately arrest somebody for a crime. If were not talking facts, but just theories like your theory of why Wright was murdered then I can follow up that theory but I dont have an obligation to report it to anyone until its proven correct by the discovery of facts to corroborate it.

So we can talk theoretically and itll just stay between you and me?

Chandler shook his head. Cant promise it willstaybetween you and me. Not if it becomes a fact.

Fiske looked down at his coffee cup. Sensing he was losing him, Chandler tapped his spoon against Fiskes cup.

John, the bottom line here is finding out who murdered your brother and Wright. I thought thats what you wanted.

It is. Thats all I want.

Really? Chandler suddenly doubted that. Then whats the problem?

The problem is you can hurt people at the same time youre trying to help them.

Just your brother? Or somebody else?

Fiske knew he had already said too much. He decided to go on the offensive.

Okay, Buford, lets discuss theories for a minute. Lets suppose that somebody at the Court took an appeal before it was put into the Courts system.

Why and how?

Apparently thehowis easy. Thewhyisnt.

Okay, go on.

Now lets suppose that somebody else at the Court saw this appeal, discovered that it wasnt on the system, but didnt say anything about it.

I take it thewhyon that is also complicated?

Maybe not. Lets further assume that the person who took the appeal did so for a good reason. And that this person went somewhere, to visit the person who had filed the appeal.

The eight hundred miles on your brothers car?

Fiske stonily eyed the detective. Thats a fact, Buford, Im not discussing facts.

Chandler took a drink of coffee. Go on.

And lets suppose that the person filing the appeal was a prisoner.

Is that a fact or just speculation?

Im not prepared to say.

Well, Im prepared to ask. Where is this prisoner?

I dont know.

What do you mean, you dont know? If hes a prisoner, he has to be in some prison somewhere, doesnt he?

Not necessarily.

What the hell does that Chandler abruptly closed his mouth and stared across the table. Are you saying this person escaped from prison? Fiske didnt answer. Please dont tell me that your brother got all suckered by some cons BS plea for help, went to the prison, helped bust him out and then the guy killed him. Dammit, please do not tell me that. Chandlers voice rose in his agitation.

Im not telling you that. Thats not what happened.

Okay. This appeal . . . do you know what it says?

They had gone well beyond theories now, Fiske knew. He shook his head. Ive never even seen it.

So how do you know it exists?

Buford, Im not going to answer that question.

John, I can make you answer that question.

Then youre going to have to.

You know youre taking a risk here.

I do. Fiske finished his coffee and stood up. Ill grab a cab back to pick up my car.

Ill drive you. I do have other cases Im working, even if this is the only one the world cares about right now.

I think it would be better for both of us if you didnt drive me.

Chandler pursed his lips. Suit yourself. Your cars in the back lot. Keys are on the front seat.

Thanks.

Chandler watched Fiske leave the cafeteria. I hope shes worth it, John, the detective said quietly. *����*����* Chandler had put some inquiries of his own into play, and when he returned to his office he found a stack of paper on his desk. One standard line of investigation had been to obtain the phone records of Michael Fiskes office and home phones over the last month. The results were catalogued in the ream of paper. The phone call to his brother was on there. There were others to family. A dozen of them to a phone number that had been identified as Sara Evanss. That was interesting, he thought. Had both Fiske brothers fallen for the same woman? When Chandler got near the end of the list, his pulse quickened. After all the years on the job, that rarely happened anymore. Michael Fiske had called Fort Jackson in southwest Virginia several times, the last only three days before his body had been discovered. Fort Jackson, Chandler knew, housed a military prison. And that wasnt all. Chandler scattered the piles on his desk until he found what he was looking for. The telex had been sent nationwide asking for assistance on apprehending the man. When he had seen it earlier, Chandler hadnt thought much about it. Now he intently studied the photo of Rufus Harms. He picked up his phone and made a quick call. Chandler needed one piece of information and he got it within a minute. Fort Jackson was approximately four hundred miles from Washington, D.C. Had Harms been the one to file the appeal John Fiske had mentioned? And if he had, why, according to Fiskes theory, had his brother taken it? Chandler looked back at the list of phone calls. His eyes flitted over one number without registering, perhaps because it was to some law office and there were several law-related calls on the list. But the name Sam Rider would have meant nothing to the detective even if he had focused on it for some reason. Chandler put down the phone list and contemplated bringing in Fiske and Sara Evans, and making them tell him what was going on. But then the instincts built up over thirty years kicked in with one precept clearly emerging: You cant trust anyone. *����*����* Come on, John, Sara pleaded. They were in her office near the end of the workday.

Sara, I dont even know Judge Wilkinson.

But dont you see? If someone at the Courtisinvolved, this would be a perfect opportunity to find out some information because practically everybody from the Court will be there.

Fiske was about to protest again but then stopped. He rubbed his chin. What time does it start?

Seven-thirty. By the way, have you heard from your JAG friend?

Yeah. There are actually two files that are applicable. Harmss service record, which contains not only his record of service, but also evaluations, personal info, enlistment contract, pay and medical histories. The second file, the record of his court-martial proceedings, would be with him at Fort Jackson. His lawyers work product would be maintained at the JAG office that handled Harmss defense. That is, if theyve kept it all these years. Jansens checking. Hell send what he can.

As Sara started gathering her things to leave, Fiske remained sitting. So what can you tell me about the Knights? Their pasts and all that?

Why?

Well, were going to a party that theyre hosting. Shes a big part of the Court and hes a VIP in his own right. That qualifies them to be part of our investigation, dont you think?

You probably know more about Jordan Knights past than I do. Hes from your hometown.

Fiske shrugged. True. Jordan Knight is big business in Richmond. At least he was until he entered politics. He made a lot of money.

And a lot of enemies?

No, I dont think so. Hes given a lot back to Virginia. Besides, hes a low-key, nice guy.

Then hes an odd match for Elizabeth Knight.

I could see how shed bruise a few egos on the way up.

More than a few. It came with the territory. Tough federal prosecutor turned tougher trial judge. Everybody knew she was being groomed for a seat on the Court. Shes the swing vote on most of the major cases, which drives Ramsey crazy. Im sure thats why he treats her the way he does. Kid gloves most of the time, but every once in a while he cant resist jabbing her.

Fiske thought back to the confrontation between the two justices at the conference. So thats what it was.

How well do you know the other justices? You seem to know them well enough to believe they couldnt commit murder.

Like in any other large organization, I know them mostly superficially.

Whats Ramseys background?

Hes the chief justice of the countrys highest court and you dont know?

Humor me.

He was an associate justice before being elevated to the top spot about ten years ago.

Anything unusual in his background?

He was in the military. Army or Marines, maybe. She caught Fiskes look. Dont even think it, John. Ramsey is not going around killing people. Other than that, just whats in his official bio.

Fiske looked puzzled. I would have thought youd know everything about the other justices by talking to the clerks.

The clerks for one justice tend to stick together to a certain degree, although every Thursday afternoon theres a happy hour when we all get together. And periodically the clerks of one justice take another justice out to lunch just as a get-to-know-you sort of thing. Otherwise, each chamber is pretty self-contained she paused except for the famed clerk opinion network.

Mike mentioned something like that to me after he first came to the Court.

Sara smiled. Im sure he did. The clerks are the mouthpieces for their justices. We send up trial balloons all the time, feeling each other out on a justices position. For example, Michael used to ask me what Knight needed in a majority opinion to join Murphy.

But if Murphy is already writing the majority opinion, why does he need to court other votes?

You really are in the dark about how we work.

Just a simple country lawyer.

Okay, Mr. Simple Country Lawyer, the fact is if I had ten bucks for every time a majority opinion turned into a dissent because enough support wasnt garnered for it, Id be wealthy. The trick is you have to craft an opinion thatll get five votes. And of course the opposition doesnt just sit idly by. One or more dissenting opinions might be circulated simultaneously. The use of dissenting opinions, or even the threat of them, is a fine art.

Fiske looked at her curiously. I thought the dissenters were on the losing side. What kind of leverage could they have?

Lets say a justice doesnt like how a majority opinion is shaping up, so the justice either circulates a draft of a scathing dissent that may make the whole court look bad if its published or that even undercuts the majoritys opinion. Or better yet, and easier, the justice will let it be known that he intends to write such a dissent, unless the majority opinion is scaled back. They all do it. Ramsey, Knight, Murphy. They go at it tooth and nail.

Fiske shook his head. Like one long political campaign, always scrounging for votes. The legal version of porkbellies. Give me this and you got my vote.

And knowing when to pick your battles. Lets say one or more justices doesnt like how a case was decided five years ago. Now, the Court doesnt lightly overturn its own precedent, so you have to think strategically. Those justices might use a case in the present to start laying the building blocks for overturning the precedent they didnt like years from now. That also goes for case selection. The justices are always on the outlook for just the right case to use as a vehicle to change a precedent they dont like. Its like a chess game.

Lets hope one thing doesnt get lost in all the game playing.

Whats that?

Justice. Maybe thats what Rufus Harms wants. Why he filed his appeal. You think he can get justice here?

Sara looked down. I dont know. The fact is the individual parties involved in the cases at this level really arent all that important. The precedents established through their cases, thats what counts. It all depends on what hes asking for. How it will impact others.

Well, that really sucks. Fiske shook his head and gave her a penetrating look. A damn interesting place, this Supreme Court.

So youll come to the party?

Wouldnt miss it.

["C41"]CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Josh Harms assumed the police would now be covering the back roads, so he had taken the unusual tactic of driving on the interstate. It was dusk, though, and with the windows rolled up, they were okay; a police cruiser would have a tough time seeing inside. But despite all his precautions, he knew they were steering toward disaster. Funny, he thought, after all the hell his brother had been put through, that he would even think about wanting to do the right thing at the risk of dying, of losing the freedom that never should have been taken away from him in the first place. He felt like both cursing and praising Rufus in the same breath. Joshs outlook on life wasnt complicated: It was him against everybody else. He didnt go looking for trouble, but he had a hair trigger when confronted with anybody looking to piss on him. It was a wonder hed lived this long, he knew. Still, you had to admire a person like Rufus, who could fight through all that, through people who didnt want to see the world change one iota since they were riding on top of it. Maybe the truthwillset you free, Rufus, he thought. Suddenly out of the corner of his eye he saw something in the trucks sideview mirror that made him ease his hand over and grip his gun.

Rufus, he called back through the open window connecting to the camper, we got a problem here.

Rufuss face appeared at the window. What is it?

Stay low! Stay low! Josh cautioned. He again eyed the police cruiser, which was a fixture in the trucks side mirror. Troopers passed us twice and then dropped back.

You speeding?

Five clicks under.

Something wrong with the truck, taillight out?

I aint that dumb. Trucks fine.

So what, then?

Look, Rufus, just because youve been in prison all these years doesnt mean the worlds changed any. Im a black man in a real nice-looking vehicle on the highway at night. Cops think I either stole it or Im running drugs. Shit, going to the store for milk can be a real adventure. He looked in the side mirror again. Looks like hes just about to hit his light.

What we gonna do? I cant hide back here.

Josh didnt take his eyes off the mirror even as he slipped his gun under the seat. Yep, any second now hes gonna hit that light, and we are done. Get down on the floor and pull that tarp on top of you, Rufus. Do it now. Josh pushed his baseball cap down low so that only the white hair of his temples showed. He stuck out his chin and pushed his bottom lip out, giving the impression that he had no teeth. He leaned over, flipped open the glove box and took out a tin of chew and put a big plug of it in his mouth, which made his cheek bulge. He let his strong frame collapse. Then he rolled down the window and stuck his arm out, motioning in long, slow waves for the police cruiser to pull over to the highway shoulder. Josh eased the truck off the road and stopped. The cruiser quickly pulled in behind the truck, its roof lights throwing off a startling, ominous blue into the darkness. Josh waited in the truck. You let the boys in blue come to you, no hurried movement. He winced as the cruisers searchlight beam reflected off the side mirror. A cop tactic to disorient you, he knew well. Josh heard the boots crunching on the bite of gravel. He could envision the trooper approaching, hand on his gun, eyes trained on the door. Three times in the past, cops had pulled him over and then Josh would hear the tinkling of glass as the baton just happened to collide with a taillight, with the result that he had been cited for an equipment infraction. It was done just to piss him off, see if hed do something that would warrant some jail time. It had never worked. Yes sir, no sir, mister policeman, sir,even as he wanted to beat the man unconscious. At least they had never planted drugs in his car and then tried to pin that on him. He had several buddies idling in prison right now after being hit with that shit.

Fight it, his ex-wife Louise had always said.

Fight what? he had retorted. Might as well be fighting God for all the good itll do me.

As the footsteps stopped, Josh looked out the window. The state trooper stared back at him. Josh noted that he was Hispanic.

Whats the matter, sir? the trooper asked. The chew bulging against his cheek with each syllable, Josh said, Wanta git me on Luzzana. He pointed down the road. Dis aight?

The puzzled trooper crossed his arms. Now where do you want to go again?

Luzzana. Bat Rouge.

Baton Rouge, Louisiana? The trooper laughed. Youre a long way from there.

Josh scratched his neck and looked around. Got me chilren on down dare aint seen theys daddy in a while.

The troopers expression turned serious. Okay.

Man say I gone git dare from dis here road.

Well, the man didnt tell you exactly right.

Huh, you knows hows I git dare, den?

Yeah, you can follow me, but I cant drive the whole way.

Josh just stared at the man. My chilren, dey bin good. Dey wanta see Daddy. You hep me?

Okay, I tell you what, were close to the exit you need to take to head on down that way. You follow me there, and then youre on your own. You stop and ask somebody else. Hows that sound?

Aight. Josh touched the bill of his cap. The trooper was about to return to his cruiser when he glanced at the camper. He hit his light through the side window and saw the stacked boxes. Sir, you mind my taking a look in the camper?

Josh didnt flinch, although his hand edged toward the front of the seat, where his gun was. Hell, no. The trooper went to the rear of the camper and opened the upper glass door. The wall of boxes stared back at him. Behind the stacks, Rufus huddled under the tarp in the darkness of the camper.

What you got in here, sir? the trooper called out.

Food, Josh called back, leaning out the window. The trooper opened one box, shook a soup can, opened the box of crackers and then replaced it, closed the box and then the camper window. He walked back to the drivers side window.

Lot of food. The trip isnt that long.

Axed my chilren what dey want. Dey say food.

The trooper blinked. Oh. Well, thats good of you. Real good of you.

You got chilren?

Two.

Aight, den.

Have a safe trip. The cop walked back to his cruiser. Josh pulled back onto the road after the cruiser did. Rufus appeared at the camper window. I was sweating a damn river back there.

Josh smiled. You got to take it cool. You play badass, they cuff you. You act too polite, they figure you scamming their ass and they cuff you. Now, you be old and dumb, they dont give a shit.

Still a close call, Josh.

We caught us a break with the Mexie. Theyre real big on family, kids. Talk that shit and theyre cool with you. If hed been white, we might have had us a big problem. Once he made up his mind to look, Whitie wouldve pulled everything out of that camper until he found your ass. Now, a bro mightve cut me some slack, but you never know. Sometimes, they got that uniform on, they start to act white.

Rufus stared at his brother with a look of displeasure.

Now, the Asians, they the worst, Josh continued. You cant say shit to them. They just stand there and look at you, not listening to a damn word, and then go off and do what theyre gonna do. Might as well just shoot them mothers before they kung fu your ass. Yeah, its real good we met up with Officer Pedro. Josh spit the chew out the window.

You got everybody figured out? Rufus said angrily. Josh glanced at him. You got a problem with that?

Maybe.

Well, you live your life the way you want, I live mine the way I want. We see who makes it farther. I know you had it hard inside, but it aint no picnic on the outside. I got me my own little prison right out here. And nobodys convicted me of a damn thing.

God made all of us, Josh. We all his children. Aint no good trying to divide us all up. I seen plenty of white folk beaten up in prison. Evil comes in all forms, all colors. Bible says so. I aint judging nobody except on themselves. Only way to do it.

Josh snorted. Look at you, saying that. After all Tremaine and them done to you. You telling me you dont hate them, want to kill em?

No. If I felt that way, thatd mean Vic took the love from my heart. Took my Lord away from me. He does that, that means hes controlling me. Aint nobody on this earth strong enough to take God from me. Not old Vic, you or anybody else. Im not dumb, Josh. I know life aint fair. I know black folk aint riding on top of the world. But I aint adding to the problem by hating people.

Shit. You got the gold card from God to hate every white person ever born.

Youre wrong. I hate them, its like hating myself. I went down that road when I first went to prison. Hated everybody. The Devil had me, but the Lord took me back. Cant do it. Wont do it.

Well, thats your problem. Sooner you get over that the better. *����*����* That was a big oversight on your part, Frank. You take out Rider and his wife, but you didnt search his office?

Rayfields grip tightened around the phone. Well, tell me exactly when I was supposed to do that. If I had done it before we killed him, he wouldve gotten suspicious and maybe gotten away. If we had gotten caught going through it now, there wouldve been questions I dont have answers for.

But you just told me they ruled it a murder-suicide. The cops arent going to investigate that anymore.

Probably true.

So you can hit his office. Like tonight.

If the coast is clear, well do it.

Have you found the letter Harms got from the Army?

Not yet He broke off as Tremaine burst into his office, waving a piece of paper. Hold on.

Tremaine slid the paper in front of Rayfield, who went pale as he read it. He looked up at a grim Tremaine.

Whered you find it?

That SOB hollowed out one of the bed supports. Pretty slick, Tremaine grudgingly conceded. Rayfield spoke into the receiver. In terse sentences he conveyed the contents of the letter.

Was this your doing, Frank?

Look, if the guy had died in the stockade the way we planned, they wouldve done an autopsy, right? Well, this was the only way to cover that hole. We all agreed.

But, Christ, Harms didnt die. Why didnt you have it expunged from the system later?

I did! Dont you think if I hadnt, it wouldve come out during the investigation? Rider wasnt stupid, he wouldve pounced on that as a defense.

So if you took it out of the record back then, why did the Army send him that letter all these years later?

Who knows? Some dipshit clerk could have come across a piece of paper and put it back in, or these days entered it into a database. Once in the Armys official record, you never know if somethings going to resurface, no matter how hard you tried to bury it. Its the biggest damn bureaucracy in the world. You cant account for everything.

But it was your job to stay on top of it.

Dont tell me what my job is. I tried to stay on top of it, but its not like I could check on it every stinking day for the last quarter century.

The voice sighed. So now we know what triggered Harmss memory.

Any strategy comes with risks.

Well, maybe Rider had a copy of this letter.

I dont see how Rufus Harms couldve had access to a copier, and the letter wasnt part of what he filed with the Court, we know that for a fact.

But we cant be sure that he didnt. Thats all the more reason for you to go over Riders office tonight.

Rayfield looked up at Tremaine and then said into the phone, All right, well hit it tonight. Fast and hard.

["C42"]CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Senator Knight warmly greeted Fiske and Sara as they entered the foyer. Behind him, they could see the place was filled with the business and political elite of the nations capital.

Glad you could come, John, Jordan Knight said, shaking his hand. Sara, you look radiant as always. He gave her a hug and they exchanged pecks on the cheek. Fiske looked over at Sara. She had changed out of her business attire and into a light summer dress of soft pastel colors that accented nicely her suntanned skin. The bun was gone and her hair swept appealingly around her face. She caught Fiske staring at her and he quickly looked away, embarrassed, before accepting a drink from one of the waiters. Sara and Jordan Knight did the same. Jordan looked around, seemingly a little embarrassed himself. I know the timing on this damn thing is atrocious. He eyed Sara closely when he said this. I know Beth feels the same way, although she wont admit it.

Sure she does, thought Fiske. Jordan pointed his drink toward an elderly man in a wheelchair and spoke softly. Kenneth Wilkinson unfortunately isnt long for this world. Hes a scrapper, though, and he might fool us all. But hes lived a long, inspiring life. My mentor and my friend. Im a better man for having known him.