DELIVER US FROM EVIL

by John L. Evans

  The scene was one of frenzy and excitement, and it was a scene that was being watched by a silent and stunned Richard Ramsey. An immense feeling of anxiety and dejection had filtered across Ramsey’s face. He remained seated at the counsel table and quietly watched as the bailiff and Officer Delgado, with Reiniger between them, began edging their way through the crowd and slowly escorted the prisoner out of the courtroom. Soon, the mob of reporters and spectators had left.

  * * *

  Ramsey was now sitting alone at the Defense counsel’s table. He relished the sudden quietness of the courtroom. He’d taken off his suit coat; he was now in shirt-sleeves. He was quietly smoking. His briefcase lay open on the table in front of him. His slow, haphazard movements belied the fact that he had lost the case. He stubbed out his cigarette in an ashtray and rose. Slowly, he circled the table; his look was one of anguish, bitter disappointment. Then, he reached for the pack of Marlboros on the table, slid another one out, placed it in his mouth, and lit it. Suddenly, through the eerie gauze of cigarette smoke, the figure of a down and defeated man. Ramsey sat down on the edge of the table, continuing to silently smoke his cigarette. He glanced out the huge, arched windows, facing west. The sky was ablaze with streaks of orange, pink and magenta. A huge jacaranda tree, near the courthouse steps, shivered in the slight, evening breeze.

  Ramsey’s gaze returned to the interior of the courtroom. His eyes were fastened on the Judge’s bench, the witness stand, the jury box. A cacophony of dreamlike sounds, swirled around his head: the clatter of the Judge’s bench gavel, the gallery’s explosion of surprise when the verdict was given, the pandemonium of news reporters leaping on the trial’s principals, like hungry sharks, all looking for a lead-story. Suddenly, his mind was crowded with many thoughts; the many times he’d represented battered wives, victims of armed robbery, victims of hit-and-run, victims of drive-by shootings, victims of insurance scams. It was no wonder Ramsey had gained the reputation of a man dedicated to the down-and-out, the despondent, the disillusioned; society’s underdogs, as it were.

  The fading crimson light had cast a soft red-violet glow inside the courtroom. All at once, from somewhere off in the dark reaches of the gallery, Ramsey heard a man’s voice: “Excuse me, Mr. Ramsey, may I speak to you for a few minutes? Or am I interrupting?”

  Ramsey was a little shocked, taken aback. He peered into the shadowed gallery with some trepidation. “Well, I’m not sure who you are,” he said, “but, yes, of course. I’d like to talk to you.”

  At first, the man appeared as a silhouette cast against the courtroom’s dusky light. Ramsey watched curiously as the intruder approached the bench. Looking as vital and handsome as ever, the man turned out to be, Jack Kramer.

  Ramsey was doubly-shocked. “Well! Mr. Kramer! This is a surprise!” He gripped Kramer’s hand. “Nice to see you again.”

  “Nice seeing you too, Mr. Ramsey.”

  Ramsey pulled back a chair for him. “Please! Sit down! Sit down! Would you like a cigarette?”

  Kramer slid into the chair. “Uh, no, thank you. I don’t smoke.”

  “Lucky for you.” He indicated the cigarette. “Sometimes I think each one of these, is another nail in my coffin.” He paused, eyeing the young man curiously. “You know, Mr. Kramer, I’ve got to be honest with you. I’m very puzzled as to why you are here.”

  “I just thought you and I should have a”

  Ramsey interjected. “Before you answer that question,” he paused, smiled a little. “Listen to me! Sounds like I’m still interrogating you on the witness stand, doesn’t it?

  Kramer shrugged. “That’s all right, Mr. Ramsey.”

  Ramsey took a deep drag on his cigarette. “What I wanted to say, Jack, is that I think I owe you an apology.”

  “An apology? For what, Mr. Ramsey?”

  “Let’s face it. I really came down pretty hard on you during the trial. I was pretty tough on you.”

  “That’s okay. Maybe, I had it coming.”

  Ramsey paused. “I don’t want to belabor this, but when I questioned you on the stand, I chastised you, I berated you, for being such a poor loser. I’m talking about the basketball game with Moreno Valley High.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “And ironically enough, for what it’s worth, you’re looking at a loser right now, Mr. Kramer.” He forced a smile. “I know how it feels. Boy, do I know how it feels.” He paused, once again drawing on his cigarette. “Let me ask you something, Mr. Kramer. I realize you want to follow the priesthood yourself and I commend you for that. But something bothers me. With all the negativism regarding the Church, that was brought out in the trial, and I’m talking about child sexual abuse, pedophile priests, cover-ups, et cetera”

  “I found Robert Stiles’ testimony very interesting,” Kramer interjected.

  “That the Church was very much aware of what was going on, but chose to ignore it. As Stiles said, ‘Just sweep it under the rug. Solve the problem by transferring the suspected priest from one parish to another’”

  “That’s exactly my point, Mr. Kramer. With all of this subterfuge, this out-and-out deception, if you will, did you ever feel disillusioned? Did you ever feel reluctant about joining the priesthood?”

  Kramer smile a little. “Funny, you should ask that question. Mr. Stiles’ testimony regarding his visit to Archbishop O’Connell, brought an incident to mind, that to this day, I have never shared with anyone. I’d like to share it with you, Mr. Ramsey.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “By the way, I think it was very courageous of Robert Stiles to confront the archbishop on the Reiniger issue.” He paused slightly. “Last summer, a year ago, Archbishop O’Donnell came on a three-day visit to Camp Sierra. This was unusual, and everybody, the boys and Father Reiniger included, were very impressed. The archbishop said Mass in the dining hall, that Sunday morning. I was his assistant in the service. Incidentally, I had never met the archbishop before. Stiles was correct when he said the man was pompous, at times, arrogant. But that Sunday, after Mass was over, he said he wanted to talk to me privately. This bothered Father Reiniger, by the way. The archbishop was surprisingly down-to-earth, almost humble, as we talked, over breakfast. He said he wanted to offer me a proposition: he was looking for a personal assistant and would I be interested? He was very flattering. He said he liked the way I handled the boys. He said he liked my attitude. Of course, I was flattered. For me, this was a great compliment. As his personal assistant, I would arrange his day-to-day schedule, make appointments, whatever; even down to chauffeuring his car.” Kramer chuckled. “He always insisted on the car being a white, stretch-limousine, just like in the movies.”

  “Interesting, Mr. Kramer. And?”

  “I decided to take the position. It meant giving up my apartment in Alta Vista and moving into the rectory at Christ, the King Cathedral. I would have my own private room, with bath. I will have to say I found the position interesting and very exciting. But then it came to a sudden and drastic end.”

  “What happened?”

  “A week after I’d started the position, I suddenly woke up one night. It was about 3:00 a.m. I knew someone was in the room. I turned on the light. I found Archbishop O’Donnell sitting at the edge of my bed. His hand was underneath the blankets, and he was fondling my genitals.” Kramer paused. “I left the next morning. To answer your question, Mr. Ramsey, the incident with the archbishop was certainly very disillusioning for me. But, I got over it. I decided to forget what had happened. To this day, I have never spoken about it.”

  “I understand.” There was a brief pause. Ramsey gazed at Jack Kramer with a long, contemplative look. When he spoke again, his voice was low, restrained. “Mr. Kramer, forgive me, but I am still puzzled as to why you are here.”

  “I’d like to answer that. There are a few things, I think you should know.”

  Ramsey’s brow furrowed. “Like what?”

  “I’m gonna lay it right on the line for you, Mr. Ra
msey. I’m gonna be totally honest. They arrested the wrong man.”

  A heavy tense silence followed for about ten seconds. “Exactly, what are you trying to say?”

  “Father Reiniger may be a child molester, a sexual deviant, he may be a lot of things, Mr. Ramsey, but, he’s not a murderer. He didn’t kill Danny Novak!”

  “But, how can you say that? How do you know?”

  “How do I know? I was there, remember? Let’s go back to that Sunday, September 5th. Let’s go back to the campfire. The six of us having our supper. You with me, Mr. Ramsey?”

  “Yes, I’m with you. Keep going. I’m listening.”

  “It was brought out in the trial. The two boys left and went up to the main house. They were tired and wanted to go to bed early. Willie Groda gathered up the dishes and left for the dining hall. That of course, left Father Reiniger, Danny, and myself at the fire. As I testified in the trial, Father Reiniger was angry. He was very upset with me, after I’d accused him of molesting the boy in the rectory. When he suggested that he and Danny take a boat ride, I knew exactly what he had in mind. I’d seen it happen twice before. He’d take the boys out on the boat, always one at a time, bring them back and suggest a swim; an easy way to get their clothes off. And then, he could molest them. I often thought, the boat ride, Mr. Ramsey, was kind of like, ‘foreplay.’”

  “Uh-huh. So, you are telling me that you saw Father Reiniger and Danny leave in the motorboat. What happened then, Mr. Kramer?”

  “Willie Groda came back to the fire. He and I finished off the last of a pot of coffee he’d made. We talked for about ten minutes. I told him I was a little beat, and was gonna go back up to the main house. I remember, as I left, Groda was putting out the fire.”

  “What happened next?”

  “About an hour had gone by. It was dark by this time. I was sitting on the veranda of the main house. All of a sudden, I heard the motorboat shut off. I knew Father and Danny had gotten back. They didn’t come up to the house right away and I was curious. I left and walked down to a small wooded area that overlooks the strip of sand we call the beach. They’d just come back from swimming. It was then, that I saw Father suddenly throw the boy down on the sand, and he forcibly raped him. I felt like I was paralyzed. I froze. I couldn’t move! Danny was crying out with pain. He was shocked, afraid, confused. After it was over, Father was more disgusted than anything else. I heard him yell, ‘Stop your crying! Stop your crying, you sniveling little shit! Stop your crying! You make me sick!’”

  “What happened after that, Mr. Kramer?”

  “Father got dressed and he left. I hesitated for a few minutes. Danny was lying in a fetal position on the sand. He was crying, moaning; he was trying to relieve the pain. He made me think of a wounded animal. I walked over to him, bent down. I wanted to help him. But, he looked up at me, and I’ve never seen such hate in a boy’s eyes! He screamed at me, ‘I trusted Father Reiniger! I trusted Father Reiniger! I thought he was my friend! And I trusted you too, Mr. Kramer! What are you two guys? A couple of queers? A couple of faggots?’ I tried to calm him down. I said, ‘No! No! Listen to me Danny! You’ve got it all wrong!’ But I couldn’t get through to him. He was uncontrollable; he was shaking with anger! He screamed at me again. ‘You’re a liar! You’re a liar! I trusted you and Father Reiniger! You’re both a couple of lying faggots! Admit it! You’re both faggots!’” Kramer paused. “Then he calmed down a little. He was still angry, but more calm. Then he looked me straight in the eye and he said to me, ‘If you think I’m gonna keep quiet about this and forget it ever happened, well then, you’re crazy! You and Father Reiniger aren’t gonna get away with this!’”

  Ramsey hung on every word. “And?”

  “Well, I don’t know what happened. Something just hit me. I knew the boy meant what he said. I couldn’t reason with him. I couldn’t get through to him. He was threatening to expose the truth about Father Reiniger, and me, you might say, an innocent bystander, and I couldn’t let that happen! A scandal like this would ruin my chances of getting into the seminary. What I wanted most of all, a career in the priesthood, would just go up in smoke. My career would be ruined! Suddenly, all the anger I’d felt for Father Reiniger that afternoon, just exploded. As far as the seminary was concerned, he’d dumped me! That, and now this kid was threatening to expose me for something I’d had not part of. I don’t know what happened. I just snapped, I guess. The next thing I knew I had him on the ground and I was choking him. I was choking him to death! I kept squeezing his neck tighter and tighter. I don’t know what came over me. I just couldn’t help myself! I just lost it, I guess. I remember picking up a piece of driftwood that was lying in the sand nearby, and I shoved it down, over his throat! I was choking the boy, and all of a sudden, he wasn’t breathing anymore. He was dead.”

  For a brief moment, Ramsey gazed at Jack Kramer in stunned silence. Then he lit up another cigarette. “Tell me what happened, then, Jack?”

  “At that moment, I despised Father Reiniger. I knew I’d killed the boy, but there was no way I was going to take the blame for it. Danny was last seen with Father Reiniger, and Father Reiniger was the one who was going to pay for it! I buried Danny’s clothes and shoes in the sand, then carried his body over to the small rowboat we had at the dock and put him inside. I left Danny’s T-shirt in the rowboat, intentionally. I wanted to leave the cops a clue. I rowed out to the middle of the lake and I dumped his body into the water. That was the last I saw of him.”

  Ramsey eyed him closely. “Well, I certainly want to thank you for your candor, Jack, but, why are you coming to me with this information, now?”

  “This thing has been tearing me apart, ever since it happened. I have nightmares, Mr. Ramsey. Bad dreams. And every dream is the same. I’m lifting Danny Novak’s body out of the rowboat, dumping it over the side, and watching it submerge, watching it disappear into the water, and wishing it was me.” Kramer spoke with great earnestness. “I need your help, Mr. Ramsey. I need your help.”

  “Well, in that case, I would say you have an immediate decision to make, Mr. Kramer.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I gotta level with you. You need representation.”

  “Representation?”

  “Would you like me to represent you? As your attorney?”

  “Yes, I would, but I hear good attorneys don’t come cheap.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that right now. You sure you want me to represent you?” he said, with a dry laugh.

  “Yes. I’m sure.”

  Ramsey shot him a small smile. “I just lost the case for Father Reiniger, you know.”

  “I don’t care about that.”

  “Well, a good move, I would say.”

  “What happens now? Where do we go from here?”

  “My advice for you right now, Jack, is to turn yourself in. Turn yourself in, to the police. They’re right across the street from the courthouse.”

  “Any idea what will happen to Father Reiniger?”

  “There’s no question about it. I would say Father Reiniger will be looking at twenty years in prison, for child abuse, involving a minor.” He paused. “Tell me, Jack, is there anyone you’d like to call? Anyone you’d like to contact, before we go to the police?”

  “No. No. I can’t think of anyone.”

  “Is there anything else you’d like to tell me? Before we go?”

  “There is something. After all of this is over and the dust has settled, will you do me a favor?”

  “Of course. What’s that?”

  “Will you apologize to Danny’s mother for me?”

  Ramsey’s voice was low. “I think it would be best for you and everyone concerned, if you did that yourself, Jack.”

  Kramer paused. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

  Ramsey stubbed out his last cigarette and quickly began to gather his material, folders, et cetera and place them inside his briefcase. Rising, he picked up his suit coat, lying on the counsel table
beside him, and quickly put it on. He picked up the briefcase, and smiling, paused for a moment. “Shall we go?”

  “Yeah, Mr. Ramsey. Let’s go.”

  Jack Kramer preceded Ramsey, and slowly the two men began to make their way out of the courtroom.

  * * *

  About the Author

  John L. Evans was born in Corsham,

  England and raised in British Columbia,

  Canada. He emigrated to the United States

  in September, 1948. He lives near

  Los Angeles, California.

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