by Monica Wood
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: Where is he?
FR. DEROCHER: He went down to Portland to visit Bishop Byrnes, remember? It turns out he’s going to spend the night. You can stay with Mrs. Blanchard for a couple of days.
MS. COSTIGAN: That’s not quite true, as I understand it, Father.
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: Did something happen?
FR. DEROCHER: Nothing happened. All you have to do is answer this nice lady’s questions, Lizzy. Nothing happened.
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: Then why did Father Mike go to Portland for overnight without telling me? Did I do something wrong?
MS. COSTIGAN: Of course not, sweetie. You did nothing wrong. You have to remember, no matter what, you did nothing wrong. Now. I want to tell you something. Lots of girls just like you, exactly your age, they’re afraid to tell if somebody did something wrong to them. They think maybe they’re the ones who did something wrong, or that if they tell on the person who did something wrong to them, everyone will be mad.
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: What do you mean? Is somebody mad at me?
MS. COSTIGAN: No, not at all. That’s the whole point. You didn’t do anything wrong, and nobody is going to be mad at you for anything you say here, no matter what it is. In fact, everybody will be extremely proud of you for telling the truth.
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: I do tell the truth.
MS. COSTIGAN: Of course you do. You’re a good girl, that’s why. So, when I ask you questions, you’ll tell me the truth, right?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: Right.
MS. COSTIGAN: Even if the questions are kind of embarrassing or make you feel ashamed.
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: [no response]
MS. COSTIGAN: So, I’m going to ask you some more questions now, Elizabeth. Okay?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: Okay.
MS. COSTIGAN: I’m going to ask you about where you sleep at night, things like that.
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: [no response]
MS. COSTIGAN: I was wondering if you always sleep in your own bed. You can answer yes or no, sweetie, there’s no need to be nervous. You always tell the truth, right?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: I sleep in my bed. That’s where I sleep.
MS. COSTIGAN: Can you speak up a little, Elizabeth? So. Every single night, you sleep in your own bed?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: Yes.
MS. COSTIGAN: Good. That’s wonderful, Elizabeth. You’re just telling the truth, right?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: Yes.
MS. COSTIGAN: Isn’t this easy? See? Everybody’s really proud of you for being so grown up and just answering the questions.
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: Thanks.
MS. COSTIGAN: Oh, you’re welcome, Elizabeth. Now, you sleep in Father Mike’s bed sometimes, too, don’t you? Did you forget to tell about that part?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: [no response]
MS. COSTIGAN: Just tell the truth, Elizabeth, just like you’ve been doing. We are so, so proud of you.
FR. DEROCHER: She just told you, she sleeps in her own bed.
MS. COSTIGAN: And you sleep in Father Mike’s bed, too, sometimes, right?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: [no response]
MS. COSTIGAN: Answer the question, sweetie. Yes or no, okay? Do you sometimes sleep in Father Mike’s bed? Yes or no, sweetie. You’re doing really great.
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: I get nightmares.
MS. COSTIGAN: Can you speak up, Elizabeth? What happens when you get nightmares?
FR. DEROCHER: She goes by Lizzy.
MS. COSTIGAN: Is it all right if I call you Lizzy?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: Uh-huh.
MS. COSTIGAN: All right then, Lizzy. What happens when you get nightmares?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: I go downstairs and get Father Mike. Just sometimes. When I really, really have to.
MS. COSTIGAN: You have to speak up, sweetie. Just a little bit, okay? Now. Do you sleep in Father Mike’s bed all night when you really, really have to?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: He carries me back upstairs after I fall asleep. So I wake up in my own bed.
MS. COSTIGAN: But Mrs. Hanson says she saw you in Father Mike’s bed in the morning. And once in the evening.
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: What?
MS. COSTIGAN: Mrs. Hanson said she saw you in Father Mike’s bed with him. Right?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: [no response]
MS. COSTIGAN: Just tell the truth, sweetie. We’re really proud of you right now. You sleep in Father Mike’s bed all night sometimes, right?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: She thinks I’m a baby. But I can’t help it. I get nightmares.
MS. COSTIGAN: Are they scary nightmares?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: I’m nine. You don’t have to talk to me like that.
MS. COSTIGAN: I’m sorry, sweetie. I know you’re really grown up. You’re telling the truth, which is really a grown-up thing to do. What happens when you have a nightmare and go in Father Mike’s bed?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: What?
MS. COSTIGAN: Does he ask you to do things? Is that what happens?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: He says to think about my guardian angel.
MS. COSTIGAN: Can you speak up, sweetie?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: I know Mrs. Hanson saw me. Is that why you came here? Because I’m spoiled?
MSGR. FLANNAGAN: You’re just upsetting her, Miss Costigan.
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: Is it because my parents died? Am I too babyish to stay with Father Mike?
FR. DEROCHER: This is ridiculous, Frank. Why are we allowing this? She’s scared to death. She doesn’t understand the questions.
MSGR. FLANNAGAN: It has to be done, Jack. We’re due back by noon. Father Murphy’s interview is at one.
FR. DEROCHER: All this cloak and dagger. We should be ashamed of ourselves.
MSGR. FLANNAGAN: Go ahead, Ms. Costigan.
MS. COSTIGAN: Just a few more little questions, sweetie.
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: Is this because I’m an orphan? Crissy Miller says I’m an orphan, but I’m not.
MS. COSTIGAN: Who is Crissy Miller?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: A girl in the fifth grade. I’m not an orphan.
FR. DEROCHER: Fifth-grade girls don’t know up from down, Lizzy. Don’t pay any attention to a word she says.
MS. COSTIGAN: Can we continue, please?
MSGR. FLANNAGAN: Go ahead.
MS. COSTIGAN: Elizabeth, Lizzy, remember how you said you always tell the truth?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: Yes. I’m not an orphan, though. I have someone.
MS. COSTIGAN: So you have to tell the truth here, with me, even if it’s the truth about another person who did something really, really wrong.
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: What person? Did I do something wrong?
MS. COSTIGAN: You did nothing wrong, Elizabeth. Lizzy. It’s Father Mike who did something wrong.
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: What? What did he do wrong?
MS. COSTIGAN: He put you in his bed, Lizzy, when he wasn’t supposed to. Right? Didn’t he do that?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: [no response]
MS. COSTIGAN: Elizabeth, you want to help Father Mike, right?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: Yes.
MS. COSTIGAN: A little louder please, sweetie. I can’t hear you. Do you know how you can help Father Mike the best?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: How?
MS. COSTIGAN: By telling the truth. He’ll be really proud of you when he finds out you told the truth. By saying yes or no to my questions. That will make Father Mike really proud of you. Can you do that?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: Yes.
MS. COSTIGAN: Okay. Remember now, you’re making Father Mike really proud of you.
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: It’s not his fault I’m spoiled.
MS. COSTIGAN: You’re not spoiled, Lizzy. You’re a perfectly nice girl.
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: He gives me everything I want.
MS. COSTIGAN: Well, that’s simply not true, Lizzy. You’re a nice girl. Now, listen, I’m going to ask you the rest of my questions now, and we’re going to use
these dolls to help us out. Okay?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: I guess so. I don’t really play with dolls that much.
MS. COSTIGAN: See this doll, Lizzy? Can you do something for me? Can you pretend this doll is you?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: But she doesn’t have any clothes on.
MS. COSTIGAN: We’re going to pretend this doll is you, and we’ll pretend this cushion right here is Father Mike’s bed. All right?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: Doesn’t she have any clothes?
MS. COSTIGAN: And can you pretend this other doll is Father Mike?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: I don’t—Can you put some pajamas on that doll? He looks very ugly like that.
MS. COSTIGAN: Speak up, sweetie. What do you mean?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: His, you know, his weenie is, you know. He looks like Buddy. Buddy takes his clothes off sometimes. He’s just a little kid, though.
MS. COSTIGAN: Can we play with the dolls like this for a minute anyway, even if they look ugly?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: [no response]
MS. COSTIGAN: Let’s pretend this pillow is Father Mike’s bed, all right? So here’s Father Mike, putting you in his bed.
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: I guess so.
MS. COSTIGAN: And he gives you special things to drink, too, right?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: Like what?
MS. COSTIGAN: Like champagne, right?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: That’s for celebration.
MS. COSTIGAN: For celebration, right. What are you celebrating when he gives you champagne?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: Love.
MS. COSTIGAN: Love. Okay. Well, Lizzy, sometimes what one person says is love is actually very, very wrong. I’m going to play with the dolls for a little while here, and we’ll pretend this doll is Father Mike, and this other doll is you, and Father Mike is showing you love. Okay?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: You should put some clothes on those dolls, though.
MS. COSTIGAN: Just for now, we’ll keep them like this, all right?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: [no response]
MS. COSTIGAN: Okay. Elizabeth. Lizzy. I’m going to show the dolls doing some things, and you tell me if Father Mike ever did the same thing to you. Even once, okay? All you have to do is say yes or no.
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: Yes or no?
MS. COSTIGAN: Even once. Just tell the truth, remember?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: Uh-huh.
MS. COSTIGAN: Did Father Mike ever put his hand on your forehead, like this?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: Yes. Is it because I’m too much of a baby? Is that why you’re mad at him?
MS. COSTIGAN: Nobody’s mad at anybody, sweetie. You’re a great girl. Very, very grown up. You’re doing great. See how easy it is to just say yes or no? Now, did he ever touch your back, like this? Look at the dolls, sweetie. You have to answer. Yes or no, sweetie.
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: Yes.
MS. COSTIGAN: Good. Just tell the truth. Did he ever touch you here? Even one time?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: Yes.
MS. COSTIGAN: Here?
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: Yes.
MS. COSTIGAN: And here?
FR. DEROCHER: Oh, for the love of God.
MSGR. FLANNAGAN: Is this absolutely necessary?
MS. COSTIGAN: Lizzy? Can you look at me for a minute? Okay. Can you look at the dolls now? Thank you. No, look at the dolls, sweetie.
ELIZABETH FINNERAN: [no response]
MS. COSTIGAN: Listen, you’re doing really well, Lizzy, you’re really helping.
FR. DEROCHER: Lizzy, come on back.
MS. COSTIGAN: Lizzy, come back, sweetie.
FR. DEROCHER: Wonderful.
MS. COSTIGAN: This is what happens. This is what we’re seeing now. This is classic.
TWENTY-TWO
His Excellency Patrick L. Byrnes, Bishop of Portland.
Monsignor Frank Flannagan, co-chancellor, Diocese of Portland.
Father John Derocher, pastor, St. Peter’s, Bangor.
Father Michael Murphy, pastor, St. Bartholomew ‘s, Hinton.
Mr. Douglas Dearborn, Case Supervisor, Department of Human Services.
MSGR. FLANNAGAN: I don’t see the point in going over this again. I’m sure we can come to some arrangement.
BISHOP BYRNES: I would like to have it recorded that we have held a proceeding with all due opportunity for discovering the truth. This proceeding is private, as discussed. Sealed, as discussed.
MR. DEARBORN: Just to clarify, though: You don’t deny that you gave your niece alcohol.
FR. MURPHY: I told you this twice already. A sip. Diluted.
MR. DEARBORN: Right. On several occasions.
FR. MURPHY: Occasions of celebration. I told you.
MR. DEARBORN: To celebrate love.
FR. MURPHY: I don’t like your tone, Mr. Dearborn.
FR. DEROCHER: Mike, you’re not helping anything.
MR. DEARBORN: And you don’t deny that your niece often slept in your bed with you.
FR. MURPHY: I didn’t say “often.” I said “occasionally.” How many times are you going to ask me this question? She has nightmares. There is no comforting her. Anyone with a child knows this. I arranged—I always arrange the blankets in a proper way, Mr. Dearborn. I’ve already told you this.
MR. DEARBORN: What is a proper way to arrange blankets?
FR. MURPHY: I really don’t like your tone.
FR. DEROCHER: Can we just finish this?
MR. DEARBORN: To clarify, then, your housekeeper said—
FR. MURPHY: I know what she said. I don’t need to hear it again.
MR. DEARBORN: Her word against yours, then.
FR. MURPHY: I’m afraid so.
MR. DEARBORN: Well, we interviewed your niece this morning.
FR. MURPHY: What? You did what?
FR. DEROCHER: Take it easy, Mike.
FR. MURPHY: You said you’d leave her out of this. If I came down and answered these asinine questions, you’d leave her out of this.
MSGR. FLANNAGAN: We’re not the only ones making decisions right now, Father Murphy. This is taking on a life of its own.
FR. MURPHY: What’s wrong with you? She’s nine years old. Was Mrs. Blanchard with her? My neighbor, Mrs. Blanchard, was staying with her today.
MR. DEARBORN: We sent a female caseworker, Father Murphy. She’s very gentle when interviewing children, I assure you.
FR. MURPHY: I don’t believe this. I don’t believe this.
MR. DEARBORN: Your niece told our caseworker that you gave her alcohol, took her into your bed, and touched her inappropriately.
FR. MURPHY: What? What?
MR. DEARBORN: This is someone used to interviewing children, and her professional opinion is that abuse did occur. If you have an explanation, Father, now is the time.
FR. MURPHY: She’s a little girl. What in God’s name is wrong with you, asking her questions about—questions like that? Monsignor, you gave me your word.
MSGR. FLANNAGAN: Are you saying the child lied about being touched improperly?
FR. MURPHY: Lizzy doesn’t lie. I can’t imagine what you’re talking about. You had no right. I’m her legal guardian. You had no right to put things in her head. You had no right to harm her like that. Why are you doing this?
FR. DEROCHER: Take it easy, Mike. It wasn’t like it sounds.
FR. MURPHY: You were there, Jack? You let this happen?
FR. DEROCHER: I asked to go. I figured a familiar face might make her feel better.
FR. MURPHY: What did they ask her? What did they put in her head?
FR. DEROCHER: Mike, it was nothing, honestly. Totally preliminary. It took ten minutes. Calm down.
MR. DEARBORN: Well, she’ll be re-interviewed in a day or so.
FR. MURPHY: What? Over my dead body. Over my dead body.
MR. DEARBORN: Sit down, Father. Please.
FR. DEROCHER: Mike, take it easy.
FR. MURPHY: Help me out here, Jack. Help me.
FR. DEROCHER: Mike,
for the love of God. What are we supposed to think? You can’t tell us what exactly Mrs. Hanson saw or heard. You can’t tell us why Lizzy hid herself. You can’t tell us why you slammed the door in Mrs. Hanson’s face. You can’t tell us why you put in for a transfer. What are we supposed to think?
MSGR. FLANNAGAN: Father Murphy, you’ve put the Church in a difficult position.
FR. DEROCHER: Please, Mike. You’ve got something to say, haven’t you?
FR. MURPHY: I’m afraid not.
FR. DEROCHER: Maybe your housekeeper made the whole thing up? Maybe you did something to make her angry and she’s using this to get you back?
FR. MURPHY: I never called her a liar. I said she was mistaken.
MR. DEARBORN: The child indicated otherwise.
FR. MURPHY: You will not ask her another question. You will leave your caseworker and your questions out of my child’s life. Not a single question, do you understand me? Are you listening to me, Mr. Dearborn? The one thing I gave her was an innocent childhood.
MR. DEARBORN: With all due respect, Father, you don’t make the rules here.
FR. MURPHY: Let’s wrap this up, then. I won’t have her questioned.
FR. DEROCHER: Mike. Wait. Can you see what’s happening here?
FR. MURPHY: I’m afraid so.
FR. DEROCHER: So help us out.
FR. MURPHY: I’m afraid I can’t. I’m finished here. Whatever you want, I’ll agree. Anything you want, I’ll sign. But this ends here. Now.
FR. DEROCHER: Mike. I’m begging you. Think what this means.
BISHOP BYRNES: Mr. Dearborn, perhaps we can talk about terms.
TWENTY-THREE
In graduate school, as counselors-in-training, we practiced on strangers, recruiting the secretaries and janitors who worked in the building, the occasional landlord or cab driver or store clerk, students from a neighboring high school, a dragnet of the walking wounded who populated an average day. Under the pitiless supervision of Professor Alice Talbot, we taped our sessions and submitted a written summary, after which she would have our tapes transcribed and force us to mark discrepancies between the wishful recollections in our summaries and the transcripts’ cold, unbending truth.
Talbot, imperious and near retirement, refused to trifle with the layered suggestions of body language, considering such investigations the first refuge of amateurs. “Words first,” she warned us. She believed, controversially, that our intuition as practitioners would be thwarted at every turn by a slovenly reliance on body language for cues. Body language served mainly to distract us from what she called “direct hits,” bald truths that are harder to discern in some people than others.