by Rick Mofina
Sloan’s fingers were sweating as she aimed her gun at them.
Who is the victim? Who is the attacker?
Unsure, she holstered her weapon, grabbed her expandable baton and, drawing on her training, delivered quick blows to the backs of hands, fingers, thighs, then bones and joints. Relentless, Sloan knew her strikes were disabling, impossible to withstand, and soon the two separated to deal with the excruciating pain she’d inflicted.
Sloan then shot streams of pepper spray into their eyes and as they screamed at the burning sensation, she put both men in plastic handcuffs, pulling them tight.
“You two sit there. If you move I sure as hell will shoot you.”
The blood rush thumping in her ears, coughing from the pepper spray, Sloan sat on the steps and reached for her radio but hesitated. She went to the masked man and peeled away his hood.
She did not recognize him.
Sloan drenched a towel in water for their eyes, then called again for help and more paramedics, advising her dispatcher to alert responding units to watch for Gage at her car. Then Sloan lifted her face to the ceiling, her breath coming in heaving gasps.
Whatever happened here was now over.
87
Gage sat on the grassy side of the road by Sloan’s car, knees drawn to his chest, shivering and crying to the sound of approaching sirens.
More deputies and ambulances arrived and everything moved like a slow-motion dream with someone draping a big jacket over him while conversations mixed with radio dispatches.
“He’s in shock.”
“We’ve got to open that gate for EMT.”
“We’ve got to seal the property and protect the scene.”
Two paramedics tended to Gage.
“It’s okay, buddy,” one of them said, checking his signs. “We’ll take you to the hospital to make sure everything’s good, okay?”
“Where’s my dad? Let me see my dad.”
Paramedics and deputies talked; there was more radio chatter and soon an ambulance emerged from the cabin road, stopping at the gate. The rear doors were opened.
“Dad!”
Gage climbed in, threw his arms around Cal, who was bloodied and scraped.
Cal embraced him so tightly he could barely get a breath in. “It’s okay, son. We’re going to be okay.”
Deputies insisted that the paramedics transport Cal and Gage to the hospital in separate ambulances because the FBI would need separate statements from them and didn’t want them talking to each other just yet.
The suspect, whose ID had yet to be determined, had been treated at the scene, then transported to a hospital in Galena. Later, he’d be taken to a jail cell in Savanna to face several charges.
In the aftermath, more deputies arrived, then state police and the FBI. A helicopter circled as the investigation mounted with local TV crews arriving, then media from Chicago, Milwaukee, St. Louis, Kansas City, Indianapolis and eventually the national press as the story reverberated across the country.
Detectives Price and Lang drove Faith from Chicago to the medical center in Sterling where they’d taken Gage and Cal. FBI Agent Malko was talking to a doctor in the hall outside Gage’s room when they got there.
“I want to see my son!” Faith said.
“We gave him a sedative. He’s awake but resting,” the doctor said.
“Is he hurt?”
“He’s dehydrated, suffering shock. We want a psychiatrist to talk to him. We’re going to do a few more tests. Otherwise, he’s in good condition.”
“Let me see him.”
The doctor looked to Malko.
“For a moment,” Malko said. “I’ll go in with you. We don’t have his statement yet.”
Balloons and a stuffed dinosaur—gifts from the deputies and hospital staff—were next to Gage’s bed and the IV pole. He sat up when he saw his mom and, in a rush of tears, Faith took him into her arms.
“Oh, honey, I love you so much.”
“I love you, too, Mom.” Gage sounded groggy.
“Are you hurt?”
“My arms are sore and my jaw.”
Faith brushed his hair, smiling and crying at the same time.
“Dad saved me from the scary creep. I thought it was all part of the Chambers of Dread, but it wasn’t.”
“Sweetie, did he hurt you?”
Gage blinked several times but didn’t answer her.
“I was so scared. He cut off all my hair and made me wear a wig to look like a girl. He said we’d be going on a long trip but I thought I was going to die. He kept playing your voice from the news to keep me calm but I only cried more for you.”
Malko indicated that it was time to go.
“You’re safe now,” Faith told Gage. “There are a lot of big police guys just outside your door and all over the place. They’re here to protect you.”
Gage nodded.
“I can’t stay but I’ll be right here, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Get some rest.”
Faith kissed Gage and was at the door when he called to her.
“Mom?”
She stopped and turned.
“Am I in trouble?”
She rushed back to him, hugging him again.
“Absolutely not. Don’t you ever think that, okay?”
“Okay.”
* * *
Leaving Gage’s room with Malko, Faith saw Cal at the end of the hall, alone, his face bearing bandages; he was leaning on a cane, staring out the window.
He cut a lonely figure and she was torn between her anger at him and her joy over Gage’s rescue.
The significance was not lost on Malko and he signaled to the other investigators to allow the Hudsons a private moment. Malko turned away to take a call as Faith went to her husband, giving him a gentle hug and kissing his cheek.
“Price told me in the car what you did. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. This was my fault. You’re right to hate me.”
“I was angry, out of my mind with fear.”
He stared out the window, shouldering his guilt.
“Cal, we’ve both made painful mistakes.”
He nodded and she continued.
“We’ve been horrible people to each other, horrible parents to Gage.”
“Yup.” Tears rolled down his face.
Faith found his free hand, entwined her fingers in his, and they stood together looking out the window for a minute until Cal cleared his throat.
“There’s a request for you and me to participate in a press conference later today. We can decline, but just think about it and remember all the people that helped us from the get-go.”
Faith nodded. “All right.”
Malko’s reflection appeared on the window and they turned.
“Excuse me, this just came in.” He turned his phone to them. “This is the suspect’s arrest photo. He’s not cooperating and we’re still working on confirming his ID. We know from reading Ezili’s files on his computer that he shared access to his family’s cabin with a small number of people in his network. This man is obviously one of them. Do you recognize him?”
Cal studied his face. The man was white, in his late thirties. His eyes were defiant, accentuating his sneer.
Faith put her hand to her mouth. “This is the man who had Gage?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t recognize him,” Cal said.
“Faith?”
She shook her head.
Malko looked at both of them for a long moment.
“Do you believe us?” Cal’s anger was rising. “After all this, do you believe what we’re telling you?”
Malko blinked and looked through the window as if the right words were somewhere out there.
“Tibor,” Faith said. “Detective Price told me in the car about the case that haunts you.”
Malko kept looking out the window.
“Every night before I fall asleep, I see her face,” he said. “Every case is extremely complex. Everyone lies, everyone has something to hide. It’s never black and white. Never.” Malko looked at Cal and Faith, looked at them sincerely, his Adam’s apple rising and falling. “I was fighting for Gage.”
“We didn’t make it easy,” Cal said. “It looked bad because it was bad. We still have a lot to deal with.”
Without speaking all three of them accepted the truth.
Epilogue
Satellite trucks dominated the seventy-three news vehicles that overwhelmed the hospital’s parking lot for the press conference.
No room inside was large enough to accommodate the number of media people so it was decided to set up on a side lawn in an area where some staff had lunch on sunny days. Now it was webbed with cables running to large news vans.
Cal and Faith sat at a folding table, flanked by officials from the hospital, local and state police and FBI Agent Malko. A small mountain of microphones rose before them; cameras clicked and flashed as they began.
Malko spoke for the investigation by reading a bare-bones statement. Within a couple of minutes, he was wrapping it up. “The suspect has been identified as Augustin Rudulf Yutellim, aged thirty-nine, of Riverside, California. We’ll provide his photo. Yutellim faces several felony charges. Charges are also pending against other individuals for their role in the kidnapping. Our investigation continues and we’ll provide more information when it becomes available. Now I’ll pass things to Cal and Faith Hudson.”
Questions for them came in a sudden wave with one from the reporter for USA TODAY emerging as the first.
“Cal, Faith, how is Gage doing?”
They both turned to the man at the table wearing a white coat.
“Dr. Jacob Hennesy,” the man said, spelling his name for reporters. “Gage is in good condition. He suffered some trauma, some weight loss. He’ll be provided counseling. But under the circumstances he’s doing well. He’s a resilient boy. He requested pizza and a milk shake.”
Laughter rippled across the group.
“Doctor,” a woman from a Chicago TV station, shouted. “Given what is surfacing about Yutellim, Abel Wixom and their activities with this network known as Illicitum Passio, is there any indication Gage was abused?”
Hennesy looked to the Hudsons, who nodded for him to continue. “We’re still endeavoring to ascertain the full extent of his experience during his confinement. As I said, he will be provided counseling.”
“This is for Cal,” a reporter for the Associated Press said. “Your connection to Ezekiel Ezili was just reported by the Washington Post. We understand you played a role in your son’s rescue. How did you know to go to that particular cabin?”
Cal outlined his reporting on Ezekiel Ezili—how he’d visited his apartment where he saw a picture of the cabin, how it all came to him after Wixom’s capture and reports connecting Wixom to Illicitum Passio, the group to which Ezili belonged.
For the next ten minutes they continued their back-and-forth with journalists on general questions before things took a turn.
“Cal, coming back to Ezili and Illicitum Passio,” a man from the Chicago Sun-Times said. “The LA Times is reporting on its site that your son’s abduction was a vendetta against you for your reporting on Ezekiel Ezili. Is that true?”
“That’s my understanding, yes.”
“On that aspect of the vendetta,” a reporter from the online arm of NewsLead, a wire service, started, “our sources inform us that you and a detective may have planted evidence that led to Ezili’s conviction in the Turco case and that you’re both facing charges. What’s your response?”
Cal was silent, then another reporter, whom he recognized from the Star-News, continued to press him.
“Cal, what’s your reaction to rumors surfacing now on social media that Ezili had always proclaimed his innocence and that you had planted evidence that led to his conviction?”
Cal’s face whitened, and as he struggled to answer, Malko interjected.
“It has come to our attention that evidence may have been planted in the Ezili case. Any charges are pending. The matter is under investigation. That’s all we can say at this time. One more question and we’ll wrap this up.”
The last one came from a woman from the New York Times.
“Faith and Cal, throughout much of your ordeal the FBI regarded you as suspects. Can you tell us why, and what that was like for you?”
Faith leaned to the microphones.
“We know that investigators have a job to do, and that until they have all the facts, everyone is considered a suspect. Cal and I are not perfect people.” Faith paused, never having uttered those words before. “We want to thank the FBI, the River Ridge police, all the investigators, all the volunteers, our friends, everyone who helped look for Gage and who prayed for him. We want to thank God for returning our son to us.”
* * *
In the days and weeks that followed, Gage received counseling in Chicago from Barbara Minovich, a leading psychiatrist who specialized in helping children who’ve suffered traumatic experiences.
As part of Gage’s therapy, Minovich also met with Cal and Faith, and for the sake of their son, they agreed to reveal to her their innermost private information about their broken marriage. Nodding behind her glasses, Minovich took notes before addressing their questions and providing her observations.
“Your son has experienced a life-altering tragedy. I cannot say if he was sexually abused. He tells me he wasn’t, but children often don’t tell because of the confusion, fear and shame. At this time I cannot say with certainty that Gage was not abused sexually, but he is still processing many other aspects of his kidnapping, namely his psychological trauma arising from it.”
Cal and Faith listened intently as she continued.
“Now, taking into account your marital disintegration and your plan to separate, I must make this observation. To break up Gage’s family at this time would be devastating for his healing. Bear in mind, his sense of security and well-being are shattered and he clings to his parents as the only constant he can trust in his world. His father is his hero, his mother his emotional sanctuary, making his family his only safe refuge. Setting aside that criminal charges are looming against Cal. I’m not encouraging you to live a lie, or a make-believe marriage, but I urge you both to think hard about the potential impact on Gage’s recovery if his family were to be torn apart at this time.”
After considering Dr. Minovich’s concerns, Cal and Faith decided that, for Gage, they would live together and maintain the semblance of a marriage, taking things one day at a time as they braced for what was to come.
In the days after Augustin Yutellim’s arrest, midway workers Alma McCain and Sid Griner were formally charged with several felonies for their part in Gage’s abduction.
The FBI’s further investigation and questioning of Yutellim yielded more details. Shortly after the abduction, Yutellim shaved off all of Gage’s hair, cutting him slightly in the process. He then changed Gage’s clothes, discarding them in the Dumpster at Emerson Plaza, because it was a few miles from the fairgrounds and because he was confident it would be emptied before any discovery of Gage’s clothing could be made. This was all part of his plan to disguise Gage with a wig and dress him as a girl.
Yutellim and Wixom had drawn on their connections and support through Illicitum Passio to arrange for a fake passport and documents for Gage, identifying him, or her, as it were, as a refugee whose entire family was killed in the Middle East. Wixom and Yutellim had records identifying them as international aid workers. They had planned to smuggle Gage into western Canada at a weak border point, travel to Vancouver, British
Columbia, then fly to Thailand, delivering Gage to an orphanage operated by people affiliated with Illicitum Passio. Gage would then be sold into a global pedophile ring and lost forever.
The FBI’s investigation confirmed that Gage’s abduction and planned enslavement was an act of vengeance to honor Ezili and to demonstrate Illicitum Passio’s reach and power. The group never accepted Ezili’s conviction, for it maintained that he had never murdered anyone, that he was framed. Moreover, the group would never be convinced that Ezili, or any of its members for that matter, could possibly abuse children “because he dated them with their consent.” The last aspect was a pillar of Illicitum Passio’s belief system, that there should be freedom to have unfettered sexual relationships between people regardless of age. The secret group’s fringes supported zealous forces around the world who were lobbying lawmakers to radically reduce, or strike, the legal age of consent between an adult and young person for a sexual relationship.
The FBI’s investigation of the underground group continued.
Nearly two months after Gage was found, Cal was charged with obstruction of justice for planting evidence in Ezili’s apartment. Detective Thorne was also charged, fired, convicted and sent to prison. Thorne’s case gave rise to a cloud over all investigations she’d been involved with and became a major controversy.
As expected, the Chicago Star-News, facing severe financial pressure, cut forty-five percent of its editorial staff. Cal would have been among those on the list of dismissals if he hadn’t been fired for evidence planting already. After he lost his job, Cal and Faith took out a second mortgage on their house in River Ridge to pay Cal’s legal costs. At the same time, a prominent Chicago law firm agreed to represent the Hudsons on a contingency basis in civil action against Ultra-Fun Amusement Corp and the River Ridge fairgrounds for failure to protect Gage’s safety.
Meanwhile, across America, Ultra-Fun continued operating the Chambers of Dread. The notoriety the attraction had gained fueled a legendary status, resulting in increasingly longer lines as the attraction continued breaking attendance and revenue records.