[Lady Justice 07] - Lady Justice and the Vigilante Page 13
Up here in the air.
We all wish them well
In their life that’s ahead.
And may they be happy
Especially in bed!
As I look around
At my friends that are here.
I know in my heart
They’re the presents most dear.
And my Christmas prayer
And I know that it’s right.
Is Merry Christmas to all
And to all a goodnight!
Everyone sat in silence.
The guy could be so goofy one minute and so lovable the next.
Spontaneously, we all started clapping and you could see the delight in Jerry’s face.
Bernice looked at her watch. “It’s time!”
“Time for what?” I asked.
“Santa Claus! He’s started his trip from the North Pole!
“If we turn on the television, they show where he is right now!
“I used to watch that with my kids. Do you think we could turn it on?”
“Sure. Why not?”
I flipped on the TV, but instead of a big map following Santa’s progress around the world, there was a breaking news bulletin.
A grim faced reporter was speaking.
“Hearts are heavy this evening as police arrested Father Angelo Brannigan, a priest at St. Sebastion Church in the Kansas City - St. Joseph Diocease.
“Two days ago, an alter boy at St. Sebastion reported being sexually abused by the cleric to his parents.
“Word spread quickly through the church and two more boys have come forward alleging similar abuse.
“The Bishop of the Diocese has not returned our calls.”
I turned off the TV.
“How horrible!” Maggie said. “Especially on Christmas Eve.”
“It’s horrible anytime,” Ox replied. “How many does this make? It seems like there’s a new instance of abuse reported every week.”
“It’s not just the priests,” Dad said. “A few weeks ago, a Boy Scout leader was arrested.”
“Then there’s the teachers,” Judy said. “There’s more and more of them having sex with their students.”
Bernice was thoughtful, “When I was younger, I just don’t remember all of this stuff going on. I wonder if this is something new or it just didn’t get reported back then.”
Dad couldn’t resist. “Well I sure don’t remember teachers having sex with their students. If I had known that was going on, I might not have dropped out of school.
“Come to think of it, I can’t remember any teacher that I would have wanted to have sex with.”
“Dad, get serious!” I said.
“The pedophiles are the worst,” Ox said. “Taking advantage of young kids --- probably scarring them for the rest of their lives.”
The Professor joined the conversation. “To make matters worse, pedophiles are likely to be repeat offenders.
“Studies show that recidivism rates are estimated to be up to eighty-eight percent.
“If a guy does it once, he will most likely do it again.”
The room suddenly became quiet.
Ed Jacobs had just been sitting there listening.
For the past year there had been numerous articles in the Star about priests who had committed sex crimes against children.
He remembered one specific article.
It stated that, “---seven priests were accused after they died, four were in the process of being dismissed from the priesthood, six had retired and were later barred from the ministry, three of which had died, and two were on administrative leave.”
The thing that was missing from the article was any mention of them serving prison terms.
By the end of the conversation, he knew what he was going to do next.
CHAPTER 14
The Christmas season should be the most magical and joyous time of the year for children, but the news of the abuse by a trusted and revered member of the clergy cast a pall on the holiday celebrations.
In any society where children are entrusted to the care of religious leaders, teachers, coaches of sports teams and organizations such as the Boy Scouts, there has to be a level of confidence on the part of the parents that their children will be protected.
It is impossible for parents today to be with their children a hundred percent of the time, and when that trust is violated, the structure of our society is shaken to its’ very foundation.
On Christmas Day, the Bishop of the Diocese, instead of celebrating the message of Jesus birth, held a news conference.
Without confirming or denying that the abuse had occurred, he said that the Diocese took the accusations very seriously and that they would be cooperating with the authorities to resolve the matter.
He also confirmed that Father Angelo Brannigan had been released on bail, but he had been relieved of his responsibilities and would remain in isolation at the St. Sebastion Convent during the investigation.
What he had not announced at the news conference was relayed to us at squad meeting by the captain.
“There is already public outrage over this scandal and if the accusations against Father Brannigan prove to be true, there will be overwhelming pressure to prosecute him to the fullest extent of the law.
“With the current climate of ‘justice at any cost’, the Bishop actually fears for Brannigan’s life.
“Given the vigilante’s penchant for executing the perpetrators of heinous crimes, it is not beyond the realm of possibility that he would go after Brannigan.
“That’s why Brannigan is being sequestered at St. Sebastion’s and the Diocese has asked the department, in return for their full co-operation, to provide round-the-clock protection.
“Given the high profile of this case, the last thing we need is for there to be another execution right under our noses, so the brass has instructed us to comply.
“The St. Sebastion complex is huge so there will be four officers on the scene at all times, two on the grounds and two within the complex.
“Unfortunately, that will require extra manpower so I’m afraid some of you will be doing some overtime. I’m sorry to take you away from your families during this holiday season, but sometimes that’s the nature of the job.
“Your assignments are posted.”
After the meeting, there was the usual grumbling that always occurs when schedules are disrupted.
It was actually my first day back to work following Mary’s trial.
I wasn’t sure how well I would be received given the fact that we had hired the nemesis of the department to defend Mary.
Most of the officers knew my old friend and had called to wish us well, but we had, in fact, employed the same tactics that rapists and druggies had used to set Mary free.
I got a lot of ‘welcome backs’ and ‘congratulations’ and my reputation didn’t seem to be any worse for wear.
But the goodwill wasn’t unanimous.
One grizzled old veteran that had been burned more than once by the lawyer’s courtroom magic accosted me in the hall.
“Romero? Really? Do you know how many scumbags are walking the streets because of her?”
I looked him in the eye. “You know, I used to feel that way too, but this experience has helped me see things from a different point of view.
“We moan and groan when we see criminals exercising their right to a fair and competent defense, but let me tell you, you’ll thank your lucky stars that we all have our constitutional rights when the shoe is on the other foot.
“I think the question is not ‘how many scumbags are walking the streets because of her?’ but rather, ‘how many scumbags are walking the streets because we didn’t do our job right?’”
As the old veteran walked away, I heard him mutter, “Damned liberal bleeding heart!”
Ox, who had been listening to the exchange observed, “Well, you can’t please everyone.”
While I was on leave for the trial, Ed, who
had not yet been assigned a permanent partner, had been paired with Ox.
I was anxious to get his opinion of our new recruit.
“He’ll make a good cop. He has good instincts and can handle himself remarkably well for an old guy.”
“As opposed to me,” I thought.
At the age of sixty-seven and weighing a buck forty-five dripping wet, I wasn’t exactly an imposing figure.
“I’m glad to hear it. We C.R.A.P.pers have a reputation to uphold.”
We looked at the schedule and saw that we had been assigned St. Sebastion duty that very day along with Ed and his new partner.
The St. Sebastion complex sat on twenty acres. It was composed of the church itself, a large gymnasium and a separate building that housed the convent.
It was an old complex and the grounds were covered with stately oaks surrounding a garden that was lovingly tended by the nuns.
If the vigilante was indeed interested in whacking Brannigan, there were plenty of places to hide.
His task would be more difficult if Brannigan would stay within the confines of the convent.
It would be next to impossible to penetrate our security and escape the notice of the nuns, even if, somehow, he managed to get inside.
It was cold outside, so the four of us decided to rotate our posts every two hours so that no one would freeze to death.
Ed and his partner took the first cold shift and Ox and I retreated into the bowels of the convent.
Ed Jacobs knew this job would be a challenge.
As he patrolled the perimeter of the complex, he could see that it would be no problem getting on the grounds.
Getting inside and finding Brannigan was another matter altogether.
The complex was so large that he and his partner had split up to cover more ground and he realized that he would be alone much of the time.
As he entered the garden, he marveled at its’ beauty.
Even in the dead of winter, it was quite obvious that it had been tended with loving affection.
In one corner stood a small shed. On further inspection, he found that it held the shovels and rakes and other tools needed for the gardening.
A path led to the rear entrance of the convent. He made a mental note to find this door when it was his turn inside.
Precisely two hours from the beginning of the shift, the four officers met to exchange positions.
The interior of the convent was impressive.
Ed was not Catholic but he had traveled some, and his wife had always insisted that they visit the architectural wonders wherever they went.
She had dragged him through monasteries, cathedrals and museums all over the country.
This convent was not unlike many he had seen before.
On one end were the living quarters of the nuns and on the other was a chapel complete with stained glass and a confessional.
Presiding over all was the figure of Jesus on the cross.
At the rear of the building, a hallway led to store rooms, laundry and furnace room.
It was at the end of this hallway he found the door leading to the garden.
A plan began to take shape in his mind.
It was a bold plan that held more risk than anything he had attempted before, but if he were successful, this story of the vigilante would be remembered in police lore for years to come.
“As the old saying goes,” he thought, “No guts --- no glory!”
Ed had been meticulous in his planning from the very beginning.
He had used disguises on several occasions when the chance of being seen was greater than usual and he had built quite an arsenal of weapons from untraceable sources such as estate sales and even Craig’s list.
But the costume he needed now was not in his wardrobe and he had to shop.
If he was successful in this execution, the first thing the cops would do would be to canvass every costume shop in the city to try to find the guy who bought the frock of a priest.
He spent the morning transforming himself from Ed Jacobs to another persona that bore little resemblance to himself.
If surveillance cameras recorded him or chatty clerks remembered him, the description they would give would provide no clues as to his identity.
He found exactly what he was looking for in the fourth store he visited.
It was time to make his final preparations.
In a canvass bag, he placed the frock and the pieces of a disguise that could be quickly applied. The final item was a 9mm Glock with a silencer.
He was ready.
The next morning before squad meeting, Ed placed the canvass bag in the trunk of the cruiser that he and his partner would be using that day.
When the four officers arrived at St. Sebastian’s, he and his partner took the first outside shift.
As before, they split up and when he knew that he was alone, he removed the canvass bag from the trunk and hid it in the corner of the shed behind some bags of mulch.
In two hours, they exchanged places and as soon as Ed was alone, he made his way to the back door and retrieved the canvass bag.
In a back corner of the furnace room, he donned the frock of a priest and applied a mustache and goatee.
He slipped the Glock into his belt underneath the frock and headed toward the dormitory.
His partner was standing by the entrance of the convent and barely gave him a glance as he walked by.
He met a nun coming down the hall.
“Sister, I am Father Aequitas from Chicago. I have been asked to speak with Father Brannigan. Can you direct me to his room?”
She complied without question and in a moment Ed was standing outside Brannigan’s door.
He knocked and Brannigan had a puzzled look on his face seeing the strange cleric.
“I’m Father Aequitas from the Chicago Diocese. The Bishop asked me to come.
“I have had some experience in --- uhh --- matters of this kind and he thought I might be of some help. May I come in?”
Brannigan stood aside and Ed entered the room.
“I --- I don’t understand. Why exactly are you here?”
“I’m sure that you are aware of the delicate nature of this situation.
“Not only are you personally in deep trouble, but this whole incident casts a bad light on the Kansas City Diocease and the Church as a whole.”
“Yes, I’m aware of all that.”
“My task here is to give the Bishop some direction in how to proceed and how best to mitigate the damage to the Church, but I am also here for you.
“Regardless of how this plays out, you will need the help and support of the Church. Whether you are guilty or innocent, the Bishop is concerned for your mortal soul. You are still a child of God.”
“So what am I to do?”
“You know as well as I that the best way to ease a troubled soul is to cast your burden on the Lord --- seek his guidance and ask for his mercy on your soul.
“In your ministry, you have told many a parishioner to confess his sins and seek penance from the Lord, and now it is time to take your own advice.”
“You’ve come to hear my confession?”
“The Bishop thought it might be easier to share your burden with a stranger.”
“I --- I don’t know.”
“You know that absolution only comes with confession and a genuine remorse for your sins. It is one thing to be judged guilty by men and quite another to be found wanting in the eyes of God.”
“Yes, you are right, of course.”
“Good! Then let us proceed.”
They made their way to the confessional and each took their place.
Ed slid the window opened. “I’m ready, my son.”
“Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been three years since my last confession.”
“Go on.”
There was a long silence.
“I don’t want to do it. I know that it’s wrong, but I just can’t help myself.”
>
“What is it that is wrong?”
“The boys --- I see them and something just comes over me.”
“So the boys who have come forth are telling the truth?”
“Yes --- I tried to stop but it just keeps happening.”
“So have there been others?”
“Yes, since the early days of my priesthood. Is there any penance that can atone for what I have done? Is there any chance for absolution?”
Ed had the confession that he had needed. He knew that sometimes people are wrongly accused and the last thing he wanted to do was execute an innocent priest.
He cracked open the door of the confessional and seeing no one, he replied, “Yes, there is indeed a penance that is appropriate for your sins and with this penance you will sin no more.”
He drew the 9mm from under his frock and fired two rounds through the wall of the confessional.
He heard Brannigan slump against the wall.
“May God have mercy on your soul.”
Quietly he retreated to the furnace room, stuffed the frock, gun and disguise in the bag and stowed it in the tool shed.
A moment later, he met his partner in the foyer. It was time to trade places again.
It would not be until late in the evening shift that someone would discover that the vigilante had struck again.
Chapter 15
Once again, Maggie and I had just settled in for a quiet evening alone when the phone rang.
It was the captain.
Father Brannigan had been found shot to death in the confessional at St. Sebastion’s Convent.
The vigilante had struck again.
According to the Medical Examiner, the time of death was during my shift, and the four of us were being ordered back to the scene for questioning.
Great! It seemed that I just couldn’t catch a break.