DELIVER US FROM EVIL

by John L. Evans

  “Yes. It is.”

  “And many of these violent arguments were because of your relationship with Father Reiniger. Isn’t that true?”

  “Yes sir, it is.”

  “Would you please tell the court exactly what this relationship with Father Reiniger was all about?”

  Mark was hesitant. “Well, I don’t know if you would call it a relationship as such. It was more like a predicament, I think. At least, it was a predicament, for me.”

  “All right. We’ll call it a predicament, then. Tell us about it, Mark.”

  Mark continued; once again in a hesitant manner. “Well, I guess it all started one night, after we’d finished playing basketball. Father told us he’d drop each one of us off at our home. I noticed that I was always the last one to be dropped off.”

  “So, he dropped the other boys off. He took you home. You were in the car. What happened, then?”

  “All of a sudden, Father reached over and grabbed my crotch. He started to fondle me.”

  “Specifically, what was he fondling?”

  “My genitals. He was fondling my testicles.”

  “What was your reaction to that?”

  “I was shocked! I told him, ‘I don’t think this is right. What you’re doing to me!’”

  “And what did he say?”

  “He said, ‘This is the way you are gonna become a man.’ Then he said, ‘You have to keep quiet about this. If you tell anyone, God will punish you!’”

  “I see.” Berkoff paused. “Approximately, how many times did this happen to you, Mark?”

  “At least half a dozen times. Then it got worse.”

  “How did it get worse, Mark? Tell us about it.”

  “Well, like Danny, I was also an altar boy. Father liked me to serve the 7:00 o’clock Mass, the early Mass. I guess, because I served it alone.”

  “Yes. And?”

  “Every morning after Mass was over, we’d go back to the sacristy.”

  “What and where is the sacristy?”

  “It is the room right behind the church altar.”

  “And, what would happen there, Mark?” He paused again. “I realize this is difficult for you, but I think the court should know exactly what happened.”

  “Father started out by grabbing me from behind. He would press his body up against mine. I could tell he had an erection. He would be kissing me on the neck. His hands would drop into my pants and once again, he would fondle me. This led to him removing my pants and performing oral sex. The sacristy, the holiest place in the church, became a place I hated. It was a room filled with the pungent odor of incense, and a room where I felt helpless and ashamed, as Father repeatedly molested me. I wanted to tell somebody, I wanted someone to help me, listen to me. But Father warned me, he threatened me, he scared me. He warned me not to tell anyone!”

  “And so, you told no one?”

  “Because it got worse and worse, I finally told my mother.”

  “And she refused to believe you?”

  “She was shocked! I’d never seen her so mad, so angry. She said I was a liar! She said I’d betrayed the church! She couldn’t stand to even look at me. She warned me not to say anything about it.” He paused. “She told me to get out of the house. She didn’t want me there anymore.”

  “And did you move out of the house?”

  “I moved in with my aunt. She lived a few blocks away.”

  “I see. Did you say anything about any of this, to Danny?”

  “No. I did not.”

  Berkoff glanced toward Judge Baylor. “That is all the questions I have at this time, Your Honor.”

  --10--

  There was a faint rumble in the courtroom. Judge Baylor hit his gavel. “Quiet, please.” He directed his gaze at Defense Counsel, Richard Ramsey, who was quietly conferring with Father Reiniger. “Mr. Ramsey,” he said, “Do you wish to cross-examine?”

  Ramsey quickly rose. “Thank you, Your Honor, I do.” As he moved toward the witness stand he threw Mark Novak a somewhat condescending look. When he spoke, his voice was cold, direct. “I might remind you, Mr. Novak, there are very stiff penalties for lying, for perjury. I am sure you are aware of that?”

  Mark was remarkably calm, controlled. “Yes, sir,” he said, “I’m aware of that.”

  Ramsey leaned in close, his breath brushing against Mark’s face. “Yes or no, Mr. Novak? Were you or were you not given a week’s suspension from Alta Vista High School in January of this year? After having been caught smoking marijuana in the boys’ locker room, behind the school gymnasium?” His voice was hard. “Yes or no, Mr. Novak?”

  Suddenly, Berkoff spoke up. “Objection, Your Honor!”

  “On what grounds, Counselor?” Judge Baylor said.

  “He’s badgering the witness!”

  “Overruled. You may continue, Mr. Ramsey.”

  “It’s a very simple question. Were you, or were you not caught smoking pot in the boys’ locker room? I need a yes or a no, Mr. Novak?”

  There was a long pause. “Yes.”

  Ramsey eyed the jury; his tone was direct, icy. “And didn’t you flatly deny breaking into your math teacher’s desk and rifling through it until you found copies of the Grade 12, final examination?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Mark said quickly. “They said I’d’

  Ramsey cut him off; ugly. “Just answer the question, Mr. Novak! Yes, or no?”

  Mark said nothing. He threw Ramsey a cold, contemptible look.

  “Will you please instruct the witness to answer the question, Your Honor?”

  “Answer the question, Mr, Novak.”

  Mark paused again. His voice was low, hardly audible. “Yes.”

  Ramsey broke into a thin smile. “You lied about smoking pot in the high school gym. You lied about rifling through Mr. Davidson’s desk! And now, you have the audacity,” he glanced at Father Reiniger, “to accuse a respected member of the holy Catholic church of seducing you! Sexually assaulting you!” Back to Mark; dripping venom. “Mr. Novak. You should be ashamed! You should be ashamed of yourself! Not only have you blasphemed the holy mother church, but all the priests and nuns and benefactors of the church, as well! You should bury your head in shame, Mr. Novak!” There was a snarl of dismissal and contempt. “I have no more questions for this witness!”

  Judge Baylor eyed Mark closely. You may step down, Mr. Novak. Mr. Berkoff? You may call your next witness.”

  “The People call Mr. Jack Kramer.”

  Mark exited the witness stand and returned to his seat in the spectator’s gallery. Jack Kramer, who had been quietly watching from the gallery, rose, and began to make his way toward the stand. Self-confident, a touch of arrogance, he had the perfect Hollywood stud walk; that lazy, horny, hip-swaying thrust of his crotch. Kramer was quickly sworn-in by the clerk and took his place on the witness stand.

  Berkoff eyed him momentarily. “Will you please state your full name, for the record?”

  “John William Kramer,” he answered as he adjusted the microphone in front of him.

  “Have you always been called, Jack, Mr. Kramer?”

  “Yes sir, I have.”

  “And how old are you?”

  “Twenty-six.”

  “Where do you currently reside?”

  “The Creekside Apartments. 700 South Avenida Santa Rosa.”

  “That’s in Alta Vista?”

  “That is correct.”

  Berkoff moved closer to the stand. “Mr. Kramer, judging by your sun-tanned and physically-fit body, I would guess yours is an outdoor occupation. True?”

  “Yes, it is. I work in construction, build houses. Stuff like that.”

  “I see.” Berkoff paused. “Now, according to Mr. Novak’s testimony, you were a close associate of Father Reiniger. True, Mr. Kramer?”

  “Yes, sir. That is correct.”

  “My understanding is that you were a church usher, that you did maintenance work in and around the rectory, t
hat you very often coached the boys in baseball and basketball, that you also served as a boys’ counselor at Camp Sierra. All of this is true, Mr. Kramer?”

  “Yes. It is.”

  “So, I would assume you were very much aware of activities at the summer camp?”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “Mr. Kramer, I’d like to talk about the events which occurred during the Labor Day weekend. Specifically, the night of September 5th. Isn’t it true that you, Father Reiniger, Danny Novak and two other altar boys left for Camp Sierra, immediately after Mass, that Sunday?”

  “Yes, sir. That is true.”

  “A weekend you were purportedly going to use, to clean up the camp, and as Mark Novak has testified, ‘Close it up for the winter months?’”

  “Yes. That is true.”

  “Can you tell us what happened after you arrived at the camp?”

  “Willie Groda had a lunch prepared for us when we got there, so we all chowed-down. After that we broke into two teams and started to work. I was really proud of the three boys. They worked like beavers, really out-did themselves. Around four o’clock, they all went for a swim in the lake, to cool off. Father Reiniger and I sat out on the big, screened-in porch of the main house, watching them.”

  “Where was Willie Groda during this time?”

  “He was down in the dining hall, fixing supper.”

  “Mr Kramer, I understand you and Father Reiniger were having a few drinks?”

  “Yeah. He’d brought along a pint of bourbon, and we had a few. Yeah!”

  Berkoff’s eyes narrowed. “According to one of the boys, an argument broke out between you and Father Reiniger. True, Mr. Kramer?”

  Kramer was a little surprised by the question. “Yeah. True.” He nodded. “We got into an argument.”

  “What was that all about?”

  Kramer glanced warily at the prosecutor. All of a sudden he appeared somewhat apprehensive, ill at ease. “Well, of course I’d known Father for almost two years now, and as time went on, although I never had any proof, that isn’t to say I didn’t suspect Father Reiniger was ‘playing around’ with the boys.”

  “Would you care to elaborate on that, Mr. Kramer?”

  “The subject had never come up between us before, and because he was, Father Reiniger, the parish priest, who was I to question him about it? But, that afternoon, I did. A ten-year-old boy had come to me, and told me, Father had molested him.”

  “When exactly did this molestation allegedly take place?”

  “That same Sunday morning. Right after the ten o’clock Mass. At St. Michael’s.”

  “And where did this happen?”

  “Inside the rectory.”

  “Uh-huh. Go on, Mr. Kramer.”

  “Somehow, I knew the boy was telling me the truth, and I called Father Reiniger on it. He, of course, vehemently denied it. We did get into a big argument about this. In fact, I got so steamed, I wanted to take off. Incidentally, I’d driven my own car.”

  “And did you take off, Mr. Kramer?”

  “No. I decided to stay. For the sake of the boys, I decided to stay.”

  Berkoff paused, studying Kramer for a few moments. “You know, you are a very attractive man, Mr. Kramer. Did Father Reiniger ever make any advances toward you?”

  “No. He did not.”

  “Any thoughts on that?”

  Kramer smiled. “I guess I wasn’t his ‘type.’ Either that or I’m guessing he preferred his victims, to be ‘young.’ They call guys like that, ‘chicken-hawks.’”

  “I see. So, the boys had their swim in the lake. All of you had supper. What happened after that?”

  “Actually we had our supper around a campfire we’d built. Willie Groda had fixed a big pot of chili. All of us sat around the fire and roasted hot-dogs. I remember it was getting on toward dusk, the sun was low in the sky. Two of the boys decided they wanted to turn-in early, they were very tired. Willie Groda picked up the dishes, the trash, et cetera and went back to the dining hall.”

  “So, that left you, Father Reiniger and presumably Danny, left at the fire?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Tell me, were you and Father Reiniger still drinking liquor, by this time?”

  “I wasn’t. But Father had the remains of his pint of bourbon stashed away in his jacket pocket. Every now and then, he’d sneak a shot into his coffee. He didn’t want Danny to know he was drinking.”

  “What happened then, Mr. Kramer?”

  “There was still about a half-hour of light. All of a sudden, Father asked Danny if he’d like to go for a spin in the motorboat.”

  “And?”

  “Of course the kid was thrilled. All the boys loved riding in the motorboat. Danny said, ‘You mean right now, Father?’ And Father said, ‘Sure! Why not?’ And Danny said, ‘Okay, Father, I’d love to!’”

  “What about you? Were you included in this boat-ride invitation?”

  Kramer’s gestures were wide, expansive. “Oh no, not me! No way! I could tell Father was still burning from our argument earlier in the afternoon. I could tell he was still pissed off, very angry with me. Just the way he spoke to me, the way he looked at me.”

  “What happened then?”

  “Father got even angrier, when I suggested to Danny that I’d take him and the other boys out in the boat all the next day, if they wanted to go. Father’s face turned beet-red. In all the time I’ve known him, I’d never seen him so angry. He said, ‘Haven’t you got things to take care of, up at the house?’ I said, ‘No, nothing in particular.’ And he fired back. ‘Well, I’m sure as hell sure you can find something to do!’ Then he turned to Danny and said, ‘C’mon, Danny-boy! Let’s go out on that motorboat ride, I promised you!”

  “Then, what happened?”

  “As they walked away, all I could think of was that ten-year-old kid, with tears in his eyes, afraid, confused, embarrassed, telling me that Father Reiniger, who he adored, by the way, had molested him in the rectory that morning. As I sat there, I felt helpless, angry at myself for not doing something. But, my hands were tied. What could I do?” There was a long pause. “I sat and watched as Father and Danny climbed into the boat. The kid was thrilled, no question about it. I think to this day, thank God he didn’t know what was in store for him! Father started the motor, they cast off from the dock, and in a few minutes the boat was heading out toward the middle of the lake. Funny the things you remember. I remember the water was as smooth as glass.” He paused again. “That was the last time I ever saw Danny Novak, alive.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Kramer. Your witness, Counselor.”

  Richard Ramsey remained seated for a few minutes. He studied Kramer with a long, curious look. “Mr. Kramer, you have testified in this courtroom today, that you were very active in church affairs. That you were an usher, you worked around the church and the rectory. That you coached the boys’ basketball team. The list goes on and on. Would you say that was a fair and accurate statement, Mr. Kramer?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  Ramsey rose from the defense table and moved toward the witness stand. “I’d say all of this was extremely commendable. My information is that all the boys looked up to you. You were a role-model for them. True, Mr. Kramer?”

  “I’d like to think that was true, sir. Yes.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you are seriously considering entering the seminary. You want to follow the priesthood, yourself. Isn’t that true?”

  “Yes. It is.”

  Ramsey paused slightly. “For the boys, you were a role-model, a sort of ‘hero’ for many of them. You could do no wrong. True, Mr. Kramer?”

  “Well,” Kramer said, a little embarrassed, “I guess you might say that was true.”

  Ramsey was eyeing him closely. “But, you do admit, and I’ll take your word for it, that you got into a heated argument with Father Reiniger that Sunday at the lake?”

  “Yes, sir. That’s right.”

  Ramsey moved closer to the
stand. He gripped the wooden railing. He was within a few feet of Kramer. When he spoke, his voice was low; he did this intentionally; he wanted the jury’s full attention. “Mr. Kramer, I’d like to regress for a moment, if you will. I’d like to go back to the night of Friday, January 15th of this year. Does that night mean anything to you, Mr. Kramer?”

  A puzzled frown filtered across Kramer’s face. “No. No, it doesn’t. Should it?”

  “I’ll refresh your memory. That was the night your basketball team played Moreno Valley High. I’ve been told it was a spectacular game, and the score was an even tie of 65, in the final ten seconds of the game. Your star player got two free throws and missed both times! Moreno Valley went on to score another basket, and they won the game!”

  Kramer was perplexed. “But, what’s your point, Mr. Ramsey?”

  Ramsey’s voice turned loud, abrasive. “My point, Mr. Kramer, is that immediately after the game, in the dressing room, to be exact, in front of the whole team, you mercilessly laid into your star player! You displayed a hot-headed man with a hair-trigger temper. You displayed a man, who above everything else, hated to lose! Winning was everything! You berated, you attacked that young man, viciously, Mr. Kramer. To put it bluntly, you chewed his ass royally, you tore him to ribbons! Isn’t that what happened in the dressing room that night, Mr. Kramer?”

  “Yes, it is.” Kramer said, his voice almost inaudible.

  Ramsey was unrelenting. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you! What did you say?”

  “I said, yes, it is.”

  Ramsey threw an enigmatic, half-smile. “Hardly the conduct for the role-model that was expected of you. Hardly the conduct of the ‘hero,’ Mr. Kramer, but, so be it.” As Ramsey crossed toward the jury, Kramer looked after him. He suddenly appeared forlorn, at a loss for words. Ramsey gripped the hand railing and turned to look back at Kramer; he paused for dramatic effect. “Mr. Kramer? Are you a homosexual?”

  “No, sir. I am not.”

  “The Catholic church has always regarded homosexuality as a vice. Completely unacceptable. Do you agree with that statement, Mr. Kramer?”

  “Yes. I do.”