by Mark M Bello
Finally, he discussed the Coalition. He made it sound as though it was not clandestine at all. It was merely an effort to monitor parishes and respond to the needs of the community. When Walsh concluded his cross-examination late in the afternoon, Blake wondered if Moloney might be in line for sainthood.
Rather than start the testimony of another witness so late in the day, Judge Perry adjourned until the next day. It was not a good start for the plaintiff. Zachary needed help from someone, somewhere. He wondered about the missing families and the mystery caller. Then he realized he was being selfish and hoped, prayed, they were out there somewhere, alive and well.
***
Blake sat alone, in his office, burning the midnight oil, preparing for the testimony of Jennifer, the boys, and Rothenberg. He couldn’t decide which order to present these witnesses, so he prepared for all four witnesses at the same time. He also wanted Micah on the stand to discuss Berea. He was deeply engrossed with writing practice questions for Jennifer and Rothenberg when the telephone rang.
“Zachary Blake.”
“I watched the proceedings yesterday and today, Mr. Blake,” advised the mystery caller. “Your tenacity is impressive. You couldn’t shake Father Gilbert, though,” critiqued the caller.
“You were in the courtroom?” Zack wondered. Where? Who?
“Yes, I was,” the caller admitted.
Zack continued to search the crowded courtroom in his mind. “You’re correct. I couldn’t shake him much. He’s a tough nut,” Zack admitted. “But I thought he came across as smug and unfeeling.”
“Very coached,” the caller suggested.
“I agree,” Zack was impressed with the caller’s perception. “I hope the jury agrees. Nonetheless, I can’t take that chance. He didn’t give us enough on priors. I need you badly.”
“I don’t think so, Mr. Blake. I think you underestimate the jury.”
“No, Father, you overestimate the jury. I can’t leave this issue to chance,” he warned. “Without the two families, I need you or someone like you to contradict the testimony of Father Moloney.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Think quickly. After the psychiatrist and the family, I need to get into priors. I can call Detective Jack and perhaps my investigator, but that’s it. I’ll need testimony of the church’s involvement in the Berea cover-up at that time.”
“How long do you think that will take?” the caller inquired.
“What?”
“The testimony of the witnesses who will testify before me.”
“Two or three days.”
“Then we still have some time.”
“Please, ease my mind and say you will do it,” Zack pleaded.
“I cannot make that commitment right now. It is very dangerous for me. You must understand.”
“Oh, Father . . .” Zack noticed the caller hadn’t protested earlier when referred to as “Father.” This man was a priest. “I do understand. I also understand the only way to free you is for you to testify. If something happens to you after that, the public and the authorities will surely know the church is involved. Right now, you are the maverick who dissented and deserted, the mouth that needs to be shut before you expose the real work and function of the Coalition.”
The caller reflected. Blake was right, but the caller was still justifiably apprehensive. After a long silence, he offered: “I’ll think about it, Mr. Blake, and let you know.”
Zachary heard the audible click of the telephone disconnecting. He stayed on the phone until he heard the dial tone. He slammed down the receiver, several times.
“Damn it!” shouted Zack.
He tried to calm. He had lots of work to do. There were other witnesses and mountains of evidence to present. This was the fight of his life, and he had to keep his eye on the target. If the caller didn't testify, he’d have to find another way to convince the jury. You can do it, Blake, a little voice on the right side of his head told him. Bullshit, came the reply from the left. Zachary shook his head from side to side and returned to work.
***
Zack met Jennifer and the boys for breakfast on the morning of the third day of trial. He wanted to let Jennifer know about the mystery caller and get her take on the situation. They met at The Breakfast Club in Farmington Hills.
“So, how is everybody holding up?” cooed Zack.
“We’re good, aren’t we, boys?” Jennifer prompted, for Zack’s sake.
“Kinda looking forward to this being over,” Kenny fretted.
“Me too,” Zack agreed. “Say, I wanted to ask you guys . . . someone called me. He won’t tell me who he is, but I know he’s a priest. He’s a member of this Coalition organization within the church. He seems to know a lot about you. Did you see anyone who looked familiar in court? Do you know anyone in the church’s hierarchy? I’m looking for anything I can use as leverage to get this guy to testify. He seems to be on our side.”
“I have no idea.” Jennifer quietly mulled it over. “Boys?” She glanced at both boys, turning from one to the other.
Kenny and Jake both shrugged in response.
“It could be a trick,” offered Jennifer.
“I don’t think so,” Zack decided. “The guy seems very sincere. And I believe he can give testimony about Gerry’s prior activity and the church’s knowledge and cover-up. Those are the keys to a verdict in this case. It is so frustrating to be so close with no cigar,” Zack grumbled.
“I didn’t know you smoked, Zack,” Jake peeped.
Zack smiled at the innocent youngster. So young to be forced to go through something like this.
“It’s an expression, squirt,” Kenny explained, always the smarter, big brother. His tone was harsh, but he quickly softened it. “He means like in baseball, when you’re rounding third heading home, but you’re not there yet. The outfielder throws the ball to the catcher. Will you score or be thrown out? Right, Zack?”
“Exactly right, sport, great analogy,” Zack noted, impressed.
“What’s an ‘alanogy?’” Jake inquired, botching the pronunciation.
Jennifer and Kenny put their hands over their mouths and stifled their laughter. Kenny spit food into his hands. Jake blushed with embarrassment.
“Analogy, Jake,” Zack corrected, smiling, coming to Jake’s defense. “It means something or someone who is very much in the same situation as the one you are in. We have the information we need, and we are heading home. But without testimony church officials knew about Father Gerry before he came to Farmington Hills, we may get a worthless verdict against a penniless priest rather than one we can collect from a corrupt hierarchy,” he explained.
“You’ll think of something, Zack. You always do,” Jake brightened.
“Thanks, Jake. Hey, it’s getting late. Let’s finish our breakfast and get to court. It’s a big day today. I’m putting Gerry on the stand.”
“What’s he going to say?” Jennifer shuddered.
“Probably nothing. He’ll take the Fifth to every question. But I have some tricks up my sleeve. You’ll see.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
Zack had a reason for calling Gerry Bartholomew next. After Moloney, Blake figured he’d dispose of the other “hostile” witness before starting with the most persuasive testimony in the case, the Tracey family and Dr. Rothenberg. Father Gerry was sworn and turned over to Blake for questioning.
“State your name for the record please.”
“Gerald Bartholomew.”
“And where do you reside, sir?”
“At the rectory, Our Lady of the Lakes, Farmington, Michigan.”
“And how long have you lived there?”
“Approximately one year.”
“What is your occupation?”
“I am a parish priest.”
A “parish” priest, not a “monastery” priest or any other kind, a “parish” priest, smug son of a bitch. “As opposed to any other kind?”
“As opposed to any ot
her kind.”
“Where did you receive your training?”
“At Sacred Hills Seminary in Detroit.”
“How long have you been a pedophile?” Zachary let him have it with both barrels. A hush came over the courtroom; everyone leaned forward, awaiting the answer.
“I beg your pardon?”
“A simple question,” Zack pressed. “Mr. Bartholomew, how long have you been a pedophile?”
“I prefer Father Gerry, thank you. As to your question, I refuse to answer on Fifth Amendment grounds.”
“Your Honor, this man has pleaded guilty to crimes involving child sexual abuse in two jurisdictions. He’s not in jeopardy, and I respectfully request the court instruct him to answer my question,” Zack argued.
“Sidebar, Your Honor?” Walsh jumped to his feet.
“Approach,” Judge Perry consented.
Both attorneys walked up to the side of the judge’s bench, and a heated, off-the-record discussion ensued.
“Your Honor,” Walsh began. “Father Gerry assuredly feels answering Mr. Blake’s questions will place him in further jeopardy. He cannot be compelled to incriminate himself.”
“But, Your Honor,” Zachary countered, “he has already pleaded guilty. He is no longer in jeopardy for those charges as double jeopardy would apply.”
“Not necessarily,” Walsh argued. “If he pleaded guilty to lesser charges and then admits, today, to other acts that could get him charged for other degrees of criminal activity, double jeopardy might not apply, and he could be charged. Further, there may be acts not covered in his plea, and he is in jeopardy for those, if he testifies. For those reasons and any other reasons, he feels he may be incriminating himself and does not have to testify as to these matters.”
“Step back,” ordered Judge Perry, rankled. “I’ve heard enough.”
He addressed the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen, if a witness feels his testimony will expose him to criminal liability, under the Fifth Amendment of the Constitution, he doesn’t have to testify to those matters. What weight, if any, you decide to give to this refusal to testify is up to you, as the triers of fact in this case.”
Savoring this favorable ruling, Blake moved in for the kill. “Did you have forcible sex with either Kenny or Jake Tracey, or both, at any time?” He demanded.
“I invoke the Fifth Amendment,” Gerry repeated.
“Have you ever touched or fondled their private parts?” Two female jurors winced at the suggestion.
“I invoke the Fifth Amendment.” Several jurors shook their heads, dismayed.
“Your Honor, this question goes directly to the crime in which this witness has pleaded guilty. He is not placed in jeopardy by answering the question,” Zack argued.
“Objection, Your Honor.” Walsh again jumped to his feet. “This witness . . .”
“Your objection is noted and overruled, Mr. Walsh,” Judge Perry ruled. “Mr. Blake is correct on the law here. Since Father Bartholomew pleaded guilty to the very act the question entails, the witness is required to answer. If he doesn’t, I will take judicial notice of its truth, based upon his plea in the criminal matter. Furthermore, I will instruct the jury to assume this is a fact in evidence.”
“And, my objection, for the record, is noted?” Walsh challenged.
“Your objection is noted. Father Bartholomew?”
“I invoke the Fifth Amendment.” No surprise, there.
“Very well, then,” began Judge Perry. “The jury is instructed Father Bartholomew did, in fact, fondle the private parts of either or both of these boys.”
“Your Honor . . .” Walsh pleaded.
“Your objection is noted and continuing, Mr. Walsh.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
“I also find you in contempt of this court, Father Bartholomew. We will deal with that at a later time.” Walsh started to rise. “I note your objection, Mr. Walsh.” Walsh sat down in a huff. “You may proceed, Mr. Blake,” Judge Perry ruled.
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
Perry’s ruling was better than if Bartholomew had testified. Walsh was befuddled, Bartholomew was hiding things from the jury, and the judge ruled in Zack’s favor. Things were going well. Blake glanced at the jury box. Several jurors were troubled with Gerry’s evasiveness. Zack was encouraged.
Gerry’s testimony, if you could call it that, continued for most of the morning. Zachary asked Bartholomew every question about every sexual act he could muster. Bartholomew took the Fifth each time. Walsh objected each time, and Perry overruled him each time. It was monotonous but effective. Bartholomew was exposed as a criminal sexual predator, covering up criminal acts, hiding behind the Fifth Amendment. For purposes of money damages, the far more critical and difficult challenge was to expose the church cover-up.
Walsh didn’t ask a single question. He knew who and what Bartholomew was. It was impossible to repair the damage, and Walsh wanted the predator off the stand as quickly as possible. Walsh’s strategy was to limit the verdict to Bartholomew and protect the deep pocket church. A verdict solely against Bartholomew and a no cause of action against all the other defendants would be an excellent defense result.
The trial recessed for lunch, and Blake took Rothenberg and Jennifer over to Jacoby’s Tavern, a short distance from the courthouse. Zack loved their soup and ordered three different entrées for them to share.
“I’ve decided to change the order of your testimony,” Zachary advised.
“What do you mean?” Rothenberg inquired.
“I’m going to take Jennifer and the boys first and follow with your testimony, Doc. I want the jury to hear Jen and the boys. If they become emotional, or whatever, I want to follow that up with expert testimony, explaining not only your treatment, diagnosis, and prognosis, but the behavior the jury just saw.”
“Whatever you think is best, Zack,” Rothenberg deferred.
“You were great today, Zack,” Jennifer observed.
“Thank you, my dear,” Zack blushed. He quickly changed the subject. “Let’s finish our lunch.”
“Don’t you want to go over my testimony?” Jennifer wondered aloud.
“We’ve been over and over your testimony. Let’s relax, enjoy our lunch and each other’s company.”
“As the only doctor present, I believe that is the perfect prescription for the present situation,” Rothenberg chimed in.
“See, doctor’s orders. Eat!” Zachary laughed.
They did what the doctor ordered. They relaxed, ate—stuffed themselves, for that matter—and enjoyed the moment. Getting to this moment in the trial was an exhausting experience for all. While there was now faint light at the end of a long and tortuous tunnel, there was still much work to be done and many painful moments ahead of them. They deserved a break.
After lunch, they returned to the courtroom. Blake spent most of the early afternoon in chambers, arguing with Walsh and Perry about the latter’s rulings and proper courtroom decorum. It seemed Walsh didn’t care for Perry’s habit of overruling him before he finished his objection. After all, he had a client to represent and was entitled to make a record. Perry indicated he noted a continuing objection for Walsh, but Walsh continued to interrupt and was rude in the process. Perry correctly pointed out the courtroom was his, he had specific rules of decorum, and Walsh would adhere to them or find himself in the same contempt predicament as his client.
Blake was a mere spectator for the entire discussion. He enjoyed watching Walsh squirm. He was required to be there. In-camera discussions—those conducted privately, outside the presence of the jury and gallery—required all sides present to avoid the appearance of impropriety.
Perry finally adjourned the session, and the judge and the lawyers returned to the courtroom. Judge Perry reassembled the jury and Blake called Jennifer Tracey to the stand.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Zack was deliberate with Jennifer. He walked her through Jim’s death and how, after Jim’s accident, Father Bill
and Lakes became a large part of her family’s life. Bill’s transfer was traumatic for her kids, but they were assured another fine young assistant pastor would replace him. In the boys’ eyes, however, they were losing another loved one.
Jennifer testified about Gerry’s arrival and how the boys never warmed up to him. He wasn’t Bill. Zack paused. Time to discuss the camping trip that changed all their lives. He wondered how Jennifer would handle direct examination but was especially worried about Walsh’s cross.
“Did there come a time when Gerry took the boys on overnight trips?”
“There weren’t trips, plural. There was just one trip.”
“When did that trip take place?”
“Spring, last year.”
“What kind of trip was it?”
“A camping trip, in the Irish Hills.”
“How long a trip?”
“A weekend.”
“Friday night, Saturday and Sunday?” Zack sought to establish Gerry spent two evenings alone with the boys.
“Yes, they returned Sunday afternoon.”
“Who picked them up?”
“I did.”
“Where?”
“At our church.”
“Did you notice anything unusual when you first saw the boys?”
“Well, I remember it was a beautiful day, the first of the spring. I got to the church and walked up to the rectory to pick them up. Kids were running and chasing each other all over the house, having a great time. But I couldn’t find my sons.” The jury was captivated, watching her recall this uncomfortable event.
“What did you do?”
“I found Father Gerry and asked him how the outing went.”
“What did he tell you?”
“He claimed the boys had a great time and, as I could see, kids were still having a great time. He told me my boys were in the backyard and offered to get them for me. I went out on the front porch, and he brought them to me. I’ll never forget the looks on their faces.” Her eyes welled with tears. “They looked like they heard someone died. Gerry attributed this to fatigue. He ran the kids ragged, hiking, canoeing and such. They’d be fine in the morning, he promised.