by Rich Foster
Whatever demons Calley Haskell raged at, they were outside of herself. He suspected she was abusing pills to hold her primordial instincts toward violence and vengeance in check. If she ever let go, Urvadi was certain that her rage would be certainly be directed outward.
Lucas James spent the morning in his office. There was attrition at the church after the killings. Those who could not face ugly truths about themselves left for another church. Looking for a place where they were less likely to be reminded of their failings. Others chose another church seeking anonymity.
Some found that when a gun was put to their head, they simply did not believe in God and they forsook the church.
But for those who remained, there was a pervasive and troubling sense of guilt. They were like children who, having done something wrong, yearned to be punished, so they might leave the guilt of their wrongdoing behind.
As the new pastor to this flock of errant sheep, Lucas turned this problem over in his thoughts. Several people had stopped by his office to talk, chatting aimlessly, yet moving ever closer to speaking of their sense of guilt. At the last moment they would veer off on a less threatening tangent. Lucas let them ramble on. What was festering in the church would eventually come to a head. It was with these thoughts in mind he began toiling over a sermon that he hoped, at best might reconcile people. At worst, it might get him run out of town.
He walked home for lunch. Afterward he picked up Grace. Together they drove into Red Lake to visit Calley. The sky was of the sort Maxfield Parrish painted. Here, outside the burned area, the trees were washed of the dullness that beset the landscape during the heat wave.
As the road rolled beneath them, Grace put her hand out into the wind, letting her flattened palm rise and fall on the air current, as children are prone to do. She too felt refreshed after the rain. For the first time in years she did not feel old. Perhaps it was having young people around the house. Was it possible that their energy and enthusiasm for life was contagious? That morning as she cooked breakfast, drove the two older children to school and dropped Caleb off at pre-school, she had relished experiencing what she missed in not having children. She was grateful for this small sample of a life that might have been.
“My God it is good to be alive!” she exclaimed. “It seems impossible that anyone should want to kill themselves with the possibilities of days like this.”
“Sure, but it’s easy to forget what life can be, when you get buried under what is.”
They chatted casually until they came to the hospital. Upstairs on the ward, they found Calley in the day room. She was talking to Kevin, while comfortably curled up in a chair with her feet tucked beneath her. As Lucas and Grace approached Kevin audibly muttered with disgust, “A preacher and a preacher’s wife.” He stood up abruptly, stopping to look in Grace’s eyes.
“You disgust me Mrs. Leeds. You and your husband.”
He turned to leave. Grace spoke to his back, her voice free of animosity.
“As you have every right to be, Kevin. You and Jenny were far braver than I. I was afraid, that I cannot change, but I am sorry.”
Kevin turned, and with a sneer asked, “And what about your husband?”
“In his own way, I think Lester was sorry too.”
“I wish he were dead!” Kevin snarled.
Grace paused as if judging the moment.
“Well then I have some good news for you. Your wish has come true. Lester killed himself a week after the murders. I hope that gives you some consolation.”
Without responding, Kevin turned and stalked off.
Lucas and Grace sat down across from Calley. She began to apologize for Kevin, but then shrugged her shoulders. She asked about her children. Grace assured her that she would look after them until Calley could come home.
“What happened yesterday?” Lucas asked.
Calley made feeble excuses. It was an “accident.” She “forgot” how many pills she had taken. Lucas put a hand up to stop her.
“Calley, I think you have a problem with drugs. You are destroying yourself. If you aren’t careful you are going to lose everything.”
“What do you mean?” she snapped.
“You have to let your hate go.”
“What?” she asked incredulously. “Should I just let murder go? Am I just supposed to forget Ruthie?”
Lucas sighed. He had not meant to get into this but he was worried about where she was heading.
“No, I don’t mean forget, but you have to find a way to let it go. You need to leave her in peace.”
“I hate him!” she shouted, snapping erect like a snake ready to strike. Anger flowed off of her like visible heat waves. “I want to see him die. I want him to burn in hell!”
Calley stood as she shouted. Her attractive face became deformed and twisted by hate. A nurse hurried over.
“I think you better leave now, sir.”
Grace and Lucas acceded without another word. Calley continued to shout her hatred for Goodman as they left.
*
Slowly, everyday order came back to life in Red Lake. Walks were cleaned, stores were opened, prisoners were returned and the judicial system resumed grinding out justice. Jury selection for the case, The People vs. Robert Goodman, began the first week of October. Brent Carlson, the defense counsel, made dire predictions about the possibility of finding an impartial panel in Red Lake, but Judge Mannering was determined to try.
While lunching with a colleague, Lou Harding argued, “As a whole, the American populace is poorly read, ill informed, and far more likely to be aware of the sport scores than other news. I should think Red Lake will prove to be no different.”
He was right. Out of a hundred potential jurors in the first pool, the court readily found twelve who had no or little knowledge about the Mason Forks killings. They neither watched the news nor read the newspaper. Among those who had some knowledge of Goodman’s crimes, most were given to understand that the church cheated him in some way. They all assured the court, that they could be impartial.
In a column about the jury selection, Lou Harding later opined,
It may well be debated whether such an ill informed jury panel could actually serve the cause of justice.
Judge Mannering swore in the jury. Brent Carlson made a motion to sequester them for the duration of the trial. Judge Mannering denied the motion, noting that if they had not read of the crime in the past three months they were unlikely to start now. Instead, she ordered the jurors to not discuss the trial with anyone. She set the following Monday for opening arguments.
Sheriff Gaines prepared for the trial. Unless some more horrific event occurred, he expected media from around the state to descend on Red Lake. His days were consumed with contingency planning for crowd control and arranging for extra manpower from Beaumont County if necessary.
Gaines received a report from the State Crime Lab concerning a gun that was turned in by a local fisherman. The .22 caliber pistol was a match to the bullets removed from the Kellner’s bodies. Unfortunately, the report concluded, they were unable to retrieve any useful prints from either the pistol or the unused shell casings.
The Kellner killings had troubled Gaines for some time. After long reflection, he did not make Goodman for the killer, despite finding the man’s fingerprint on the doorbell. He spoke of his misgivings to Detective Egan.
“It simply doesn’t make sense, Pat. Angry deficient men, like Goodman, go for big guns; penis envy alone would cause him to shy away from a twenty-two.”
“He could have tossed the piece?”
“After he left the Kellners, Goodman was on his way to commit mass murder. He had other guns, why bother to throw it in the lake?
Secondly, the fisherman estimated he found the gun about hundred and fifty feet from shore. That would be a hell of a throw for anyone. I checked the lake level data for July. Due to the shallow slope at the Kellner’s beachfront, I figured the throw was closer to two hundred feet. Whoever tossed t
he gun must have been in a boat at the time.”
“So, what do you want?” Egan asked.
“I’m not sure yet. I regret we became distracted by the New Life killings. Our men should have canvassed the neighbors about any boats close to the shore that day. But the district attorney wants the case closed. Unless we come up with something more definitive, the Kellner killings will have to stay shelved.
*
As a pastor, Lucas was troubled by what he saw happening to Calley but also to the whole community. Like a pebble thrown in the water he watched the concentric waves of trouble roll out from a single center. It was easy to blame Robert Goodman, in that he precipitated the greatest violence, but cause went back past his failed lawsuit, past the accident, past Walter at DMV and stopped at Jason. In an effort to do something good he chose to cut corners.
Ironically, his decision to drive a dangerous bus was resulting in his own family being destroyed and his children becoming emotional orphans. The repercussions of his choices continued to roll through the valley. Goodman may have been the great villain in the Mason Forks tragedy but dozens of small villains supported him. “The evil that men do, does live on after them,” he thought.
As he prepared his sermon, he asked himself, “Why was it not as easy to see concentric rings of good flowing out of a single choice? Were there so many more pebbles of evil than of good?”
On Sunday morning there was an above average crowd at the New Life Redemption Church. This despite the beautiful October weather. The heat wave of September had given way to chilly nights and early frosts. The first trace of autumn clung to the trees. Within weeks the valleys along the rivers and streams would be golden as the deciduous trees changed, framed by the evergreens on the hills above.
The congregation’s singing was strong. Doubts and guilt are best suppressed by a dose of pious effort. Lucas gazed across the sanctuary. He was acquainted with most of the people by now. Almost all still struggled, three months after the killings.
The announcements were made, an offering was taken, another hymn sung, and it was time for Lucas to preach.
“My text for today is Romans 3:23.
All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, we are justified by his grace as a gift.”
Outside a breeze rustled in the trees.
Lucas continued, “There was a man who won the lottery. His friends were happy for his good fortune. Being a generous man he was willing to share this blessing. When a friend asked, he gave. He never demanded repayment for a loan, nor did he ever remind his friends of his generosity.
But a time soon came when all of his old friends were gone. When he asked to get together, they begged off, claiming to be busy. His messages went unanswered.
Finally, he sought out his oldest and best friend.
“Why do you avoid me, he asked? What did I do?”
The friend hemmed and hawed. The lottery winner did not relent. He persisted to ask why he was rejected. At last his friend blurted out,
“Because you make me feel so guilty!”
“How do I make you feel guilty? Have I not been generous? Have I ever demanded repayment?”
“No.” his friend answered, “and that is the problem, I can never repay you. The money you gave, the expensive meals you bought, are debts I cannot repay. Whenever I see you I am reminded of my debt and so feel guilty.”
Thus the man lost his friends due to a debt they could not repay.”
Lucas let his eye rove around the church.
“In Mason Forks we have a similar problem. Here in our church, we have people who were given a gift that they cannot repay. I see it in your eyes. I hear it between your words when we speak.”
Lucas’s voice fell to a whisper as if sharing a secret. With an accusatory finger pointing at the members of the church, he said,
“A retarded black man and a six-year-old girl died for you. It’s a debt you can never repay. What a humiliating burden!” he almost shouted. “What shame! When your faith was challenged, almost all failed the test like the Apostle Peter.”
Silence hung in the air for long seconds. Every face looked down. Anger stirred in their hearts. Why should the pastor punish them with these words? Who was he to condemn? But the Reverend James did not quit.
“Who here did not look down on Desmond Jones because he was simple? Who did not think slightly less of him as a man because he was born black? Who cared about an old man who kept to himself? Or concerned themselves with a little girl who missed her father? Who did not find it amusing that a young man and woman thought they could change the world?”
Few eyes made contact with Lucas. Several couples and individuals stood muttering indignation. They headed for the rear door.
“You can’t run from the truth,” Lucas called. “How humiliating to be outspent in your faith by the old, the simple, and the weak. These people died in your stead. Guilt is tearing up you, this church, and this community because whenever you’re reminded of your debt you feel shame.”
Tears flowed from many eyes in the congregation. A few who had risen to leave, took their seats again. Lucas’s words cut like scalpel across an infected wound.
Lucas spoke again, “Look and listen friends, the only way for you to escape this guilt is to accept the gift. In our text today eternal life is the gift of God, but in our community here, the gift of life is from Elijah, Desmond, Ruthie, Kevin, and Jenny. Christ said,
No greater love has any man than this, than he lay down his life for another.
But I say, until you accept their gift you will be burdened carrying the guilt.”
Lucas let the words and thought behind them sink in. When he resumed he spoke slowly.
“I have no doubt that everyone here today wishes they could have or would have acted differently that terrible night. We have all failed. All of us!
The man who won the lottery had no desire to hurt his friends. He did not want them to live in guilt. His giving was a gift. I urge you this day to accept the gift you have been given. Admit it is an obligation you can never repay. Determine to live worthy of the continued life you were given. Living in gratitude, showing kindness and generosity. May you go in peace.”
Lucas left the sanctuary by the side door. He doubted few were eager to see him in the foyer and shake his hand. His sermon would need time to settle in, either it would be received or the church would die.
The service was over. With no closing hymn the members were like lost sheep. Gradually they rose and silently filed out.
An hour later Grace walked the short path which friendship had worn through the thicket to Lucas’s house. The friends took tea in his kitchen.
“If it’s any encouragement, I believe there was a start to healing after the service. People were beginning to talk. I saw a lot of hugs being given.”
“It’s a start, Grace.”
“They might forgive themselves Lucas, but I’m not sure they will forgive you.”
“That may be. Some already want to kill the messenger. Listen.”
Lucas depressed the play button on his answering machine. An angry voice he could not place began yelling.
“If you think I owe a stupid nigger for anything then your dumber than I thought. Go home. You’re probably a tree hugger too.”
Beep… This was followed by a female voice of indignation. “How dare you speak to us like that? You weren’t even here! Those people made their own choice. It was all the Haskell family’s fault anyway, Jason bought that stupid bus.”
Beep… “Lucas, Will Farron here, we need to talk, half of the church is ready to lynch you…”
Lucas pressed stop. He ran his hand through his hair.
“Whatever happens, Grace, I couldn’t stay the way things were.”
“Our cowardice is the elephant in the room that no one will mention. It’s not easy to discover that you doubt everything you claim to believe in.”
“The question isn’t cowardice or doubt. The important question
is, can they find forgiveness for themselves.”
“Moral grace is an elusive thing, Lucas. Look at Lester; his life was all judgment and no grace. Hopefully the church can find the forgiveness that he could not.”
They sipped their tea while silently pondering these thoughts.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lucas waited in Max Teech’s outer office. He was early for his appointment. After trading flirtatious smiles with Max’s secretary, he began reading The Clarion. The front-page story was about the trial. The by-line was Lou Harding’s. It read:
Amongst much jostling of reporters and TV cameras, Robert Goodman stood before a jury of his peers for the first time, today. They will judge him guilty or innocent of the heinous crimes of which he is accused.
The thirty-six year old Goodman is charged with four counts of first degree murder and one count of attempted murder. One of his victims was a child and another a mentally deficient man. He is also charged with 113 counts of kidnapping for forcibly detaining the congregants at gunpoint.
This morning Mr. Goodman seemed untroubled as he entered the court, strangely he smiled and waved at the judge, the Honorable Elizabeth Mannering who is presiding over the case.
The Prosecution’s opening argument was forceful yet succinct. Assistant District Attorney Anders Scott said in part, “Robert Goodman of malice and aforethought did plan and execute the taking of hostages and the murder of four innocent peoples. He committed these acts in a misguided sense of vengeance subsequent to losing a civil lawsuit with the New Life Redemption Church of Mason Forks.”