The knock on her door awakened Angela from a sound sleep. Through squinted eyes she made out the time to be 7:30 am. She ignored the knock but heard the bell ringing over and over. “Crap,” she said.
She crawled out of bed, threw on a pair of pants, blouse, and sandals and peeked through the door’s peephole.
“Are you friggin’ kidding me,” was all she could muster as she saw the face of Victor Sanchez displaying his FBI badge in front of her eyeballs.
“Yes, can I help you?”
“Mrs. DiPietro. This is Agent Sanchez with the FBI.
Opening the door; “Yes, Agent Sanchez. To what do I owe this honor?” She had a pleasant way about her, even when being sarcastic.
Looking around, she saw a line of blue and whites with their lights flashing as if they were leading a parade or something.
“Mrs. DiPietro, You’re under arrest for murder and your involvement in un-American activities.”
“Are you nuts? I didn’t kill anyone”, she protested
There was no need to Miranda her but if they couldn’t get her on any conspiracy charges, he would read her rights to her before booking her for murder. Sanchez cuffed her and placed her in the back seat of the car with Agent Ferguson. Angela was worried, but she knew she hadn’t killed anyone. Hell, they hadn’t even told her who had been murdered. No, this wasn’t about murder. The FBI was interested in something so much bigger. She wished that she had a chance to call or text Tony, in New York, to warn him but there was no way to do that now. No, he’d be okay and she felt confident that she’d be able to convey her innocence. She’d basically go uptown with Agent Sanchez, answer a few questions and she’d be home by dinner time. It was only Thursday, and Tony wasn’t due home until late Sunday night. He’s busy and won’t even have time to think about her or what she was doing. He wouldn’t even know that she was gone.
At the FBI building she was escorted into a large interview room. While nicer than the room she was in yesterday, it still had the look and smell of a stuffy 70-year-old building. There were no pleasantries today as Agent Sanchez began the interrogation.
“Is it okay if I record your interviews, Mrs. DiPietro? It will save a lot of writing and cramped fingers.”
“I would like to request my one phone call so that I can call my attorney.”
“I’m sorry Mrs. DiPietro. Perhaps I wasn’t clear. You’ve been arrested for a series of crimes, one of which is plotting against the Government of the United States. Your rights under the Constitution do not apply because you are being charged with crimes counter to the Constitution.”
“Are you kidding me? This is a joke right?”
“No ma’am it’s not. You may not realize this, but if there is any truth to what Father Delaney has told us, you could be charged under the Patriot Act of 2038. Cooperate and I’ll do everything in my power to help you. Now may I record this interview?” He avoided using the term interrogation.
“Sure why not. I’ve got nothing to hide.” So we’re back to Father Delaney, she thought. There was no murder. They’re just chasing this bull crap story that the fag priest gave them. She was feeling particularly cocky now and was sure that they had nothing on her and would have to let her go.
“Mrs. DiPietro, I understand that you told Agent Ferguson that you do not like Father Delaney. Is that correct?”
“Actually, what I said was that I hate him.”
“Right. According to my notes, that’s because you believe that Father Delaney is a pedophile?”
“That’s correct. He is.”
“And it says here that you knew a young man who was abused by Father Delaney.”
“Yes, but I already answered all of these questions yesterday.”
“I understand, and I hope that you will indulge me a little as I may backtrack just to make sure that I have a clear understanding of what you’re telling us. Is that ok?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Mrs. DiPietro, when was the last time that you were in Father Delaney’s company?”
“I don’t know the exact date, but it was probably 2 or 3 weeks ago. Why do you ask?”
“To the best of your knowledge is Father Delaney involved in any illegal activity?”
“You mean besides being a pedophile?”
“Well, yes. Has he been involved in any other illegal activity, to the best of your knowledge?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Do you happen to know if Father Delaney was a politically involved or motivated person?”
“I wouldn’t know.” She played dumb. “Why are you asking all of these questions about Father Delaney?”
“Mrs. DiPietro, Father Delaney was found stabbed to death this morning.”
“Well, that’s good news, right?”
“I don’t know. You tell me. Someone used a large kitchen knife. The wound was straight to his heart, and the knife blade was pushed in with such force that the very tip came off in his chest. I think someone who can be that violent is likely someone who not only knew him but hated him with a passion.”
The reason they brought her into the office was becoming clearer with each new revelation. “I think that getting a pedophile off of the streets is a good thing but, of course, I don’t condone violence of any kind so I certainly don’t think murdering someone is the right way to do that.”
“Did you go to the rectory last evening?”
Voila here it comes, she thought. “No, Agent Sanchez, I did not.”
“So what would you say if I told you that someone saw you near the rectory at about 7 pm last night?”
“I went to the bakery just down the street around 6:30 pm and the rectory is on the way back, so it’s possible that I was ‘near’ the rectory around that time.”
“Did you stop by the rectory last night to see Father Delaney?”
“No.”
“So you didn’t ring the bell to the rectory and go in to speak with Father Delaney?”
“No I didn’t, and if someone says I did, they’re lying.”
“Do you know anyone who would want Father Delaney dead?”
“You mean besides me?”
“You? Did you kill Father Delaney, Mrs. DiPietro?”
Angela laughs out loud. “Saying you wished someone was dead is just an expression. That doesn’t mean I killed him. I told you that I don’t condone violence. But I would imagine that there are a lot of people who really would like to see him dead.”
“Like who?” said Sanchez.
“Well, let me see,” Angela mused. “There was another child who had planned to come forward about Father Delaney’s, shall we be nice and say, ‘indiscretions’? I would think that my friends, the Campbells, whose son, Ben, committed suicide over what Delaney did to him, might be holding a grudge. Wouldn’t you think that agent? Then, of course, there are thousands of ‘good people’ in South Philly who questioned the reasons for Delaney’s many diocesan transfers over the years or knew or read about the young man who had filed charges and then killed himself. I would think any one of those people might want him dead as well.”
After covering more of the same ground with Angela for over an hour, Agent Sanchez brought in Sadeem Ali.
“Mrs. DiPietro, I’m Agent Ali with the Secret Service, and I have a few questions for you. Are you comfortable?”
“Comfortable wouldn’t be a term I’d use. No, I’m not comfortable. I’m tired, and I’m hungry. I want to stop this waste of time and go home. I’ve spent hours here talking about some dead fag priest that no one except you people even cares about.”
“I understand, but we’re investigating the murder of a person of interest in a possible subversion plot. You, Mrs. DiPietro, have been named by several people as someone who, along with Father Delaney, attended meetings at your house.”
Angela sat quietly, then said “I want a lawyer”.
Agent Ali, ignoring her request, continued his questioning about her husband Tony, Nicky, Father Quinn, a
nd several others who had attended meetings.
Angela’s answers were consistent. Of course, she was at meetings at her house. It was after all ‘her’ house. Yes, Tony was her husband. He knew Nicky as a friend, but she didn’t know him. Father Quinn was a pastor at a nearby parish. Everyone in South Philly knew Father Quinn. To the best of her knowledge, no one was doing anything illegal. They were merely assembling; a right guaranteed by the Constitution, for the purpose of praying the rosary.
“Excuse me,” Agent Ali stepped out into the hall to speak with Agent Sanchez.
“She’s hesitated on a few answers, especially when asked about Nicky. It seems odd to me that her husband would be friends with this guy and that she doesn’t know him. I’m sure that she knows more than she’s letting on and the president wants answers. I didn’t drive all the way up from DC to leave without any answers.”
“What do you have I mind?” said Sanchez.
“I know how to get the information that I need. Mrs. DiPietro is not a spy or trained military or paramilitary. No one has schooled her in resisting interrogations. I’d like to keep her here, instill some fear in her. I think she’ll talk.”
“How can I help?”
“I know she expects to be released, but I’d like to keep her. I don’t think we can book her on any murder charges, and we certainly don’t have anything to tie her to any subversive activity, but I think that as we get more information we can charge her with serious charges that will preclude her right to an attorney.”
“Well usually we could hold her on suspicion for 48 hours without even booking her but under the new federal laws, we can keep her for 72 hours. Will that be long enough?”
“I think 48 will be plenty. I don’t think extreme interrogation techniques are needed here. I think some badgering, some trickery, and some nutritional and sleep deprivation will work wonders. And, I’d like you to play good cop by stopping in once in a while to give me a break and befriend her. Are you okay with this?”
“Roger that.”
“Good. Let’s get to work.”
During the ensuing 48 hours, Angela was held in the same room, leaving only to use the lavatory and even then only when she came close to peeing herself.
Eventually, she cried incessantly out of sheer frustration and exhaustion. I’m not giving them shit was her first instinct as she stuck to her bland recitations for the first 37 hours. The interrogation was circular in nature in that it eventually came back to the same topics, only with the questions asked with slight variations. Did she know that someone was going to kill Father Delaney? Was he part of some plot? Did she or her group have anything to do with Father Delaney death? Did she or her friends kill him to keep him quiet? Did she know of events planned for the 4th of July? Did she know who was leading any protests or conspiracies?
I can’t take this any longer, Angela thought.
After a short break, Agent Ali continued. “So, there are protests planned for July 4th then.”
“Who told you that?” asked Angela.
“Why, you did Mrs. DiPietro. I’m just trying to put things in perspective to determine where and when the protests are taking place.
Angela didn’t remember saying anything about protests, but she was so tired that maybe she did. She was confused at this point. What had she told them? Had she asked for a lawyer and, if so, where was her attorney?
The two agents agreed that it was unlikely that she would be giving up any names, so they focused on the details of the protests. That information would, at least, be helpful moving forward.
“Look,” said Agent Sanchez, after Ali had left the room to use the men’s room. “I want to help you. Just tell us a little more about the plans and we’ll arrange for you to go home. So, Mrs. DiPietro, on July 4th, there is going to be a series of protests. And you’re one of the leaders?”
“I’m not a leader” cried Angela. “I’m just along for the ride.”
“I understand. I’m just trying to determine your role in these potential events and ascertain some time line and where these protests are likely to occur. I’m sure you can understand, Mrs. DiPietro.”
“All over the country; they’re going to happen in every city in America. Now can I go?”
“Thanks so much for your help. Do you know who the leaders of the protests are then?”
Silence from Angela.
“I know you’re tired so let’s wrap things up, and maybe you can be home in your bed later tonight, ok? At what time are these protests to occur?”
Angela exhausted: “I don’t know, early in the morning.”
“Excellent. And who is your boss in this?”
Silence again from Angela.
“What is the purpose of these protests, Angela?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Well you seem like a rational person, and I’m sure you wouldn’t be involved in something that wasn’t a worthwhile cause Mrs. DiPietro. What are you protesting?”
“What?”
Softly: “What is the reason for these protests, Mrs. DiPietro?”
An angry Angela DiPietro lashed out. “With all of the bullshit that is going on in Washington with this raghead president, you need to ask me the reason? Why not? Why isn’t everyone protesting? They should be.”
“If you say so, Mrs. DiPietro.”
“I say so,” said Angela. “And I have the right to legal representation. I’m not saying another word without an attorney present.”
Outside the room, Agent Ali had been watching through a one-way mirror. As Agent Sanchez left the room, he said “hold her on charges of sedition for now and then have her transferred to Leavenworth.”
“And then what?”
“You know what? Maybe nothing. But, if something extraordinary occurs on July 4th, we’ll make sure she gets a speedy trial for the crime of treason and all charges related to it.”
Chapter 63
Agent Sanchez, on his way back to DC after his trip up to Philly, made the 6 am call to President Abbas’ private secured line. The president was dressing and it could have waited but he insisted on being called as soon as there was news to report. The president said that he didn’t care what time of day it was.
“Mr. President, this is Agent Sanchez.”
“Yes, Agent Sanchez, what have you for me?”
“Mr. President, based on the murder of a Philadelphia priest, who we suspected of being involved in some protest movement, and a few other tips, Agent Ali and I brought Angela Marie DiPietro back in for questioning. She was stubborn and wouldn’t give us any names, sir, but after interrogating her for almost 48 hours, we were able to break her. I’ve texted some critical information to you and the vice president.”
Sanchez went on to tell the president about the arrest, transport to Leavenworth, and the interrogation by agents from Kansas City.
He also advised the president of their planned stakeout of the DiPietro house, in the event Tony DiPietro returned.
Ahmad disconnected the call. Sanchez had merely confirmed what he had already guessed. Everything was in place, and there was no need for any action on his part. He’d be returning to his apartment for a few hours of shut eye before heading into the office. One way or another, the events that were to follow would prove to be monumental regarding their impact on US history.
Chapter 64
Tony arrived home late Sunday night from his trip to New York. He and Aaron had gone over their plans together like they were still in college prepping for an exam. Both were nervous, and neither wanted to make a mistake.
Angela had given up her apartment after the wedding, and they now lived in one of the newer three story row homes that his parents had purchased during the revival of the city. Major money had bought up some of the inner city shambles, leveled them, and replaced them with gorgeous 3 and four bedroom, multi-bath, townhomes with garages for off street parking. Parking in the city had always been a problem and one of the major reasons people like
Tony’s parents had moved to the suburbs. But with the new construction, the “old” style of South Philly neighborhood saw revitalization around 2025 as the children and the children’s children moved “downtown.” While there were still a few of the old style row homes standing, most had been replaced with the new three story townhomes with garages. It was a nicer place to live, although it still suffered from many of the same problems other cities faced; overcrowding, too much traffic, and smog.
As he approached their street, Tony felt a very eerie vibe. It was after midnight, but Tony half expected Angela to be sitting outside on the step waiting for him. He sensed that something was wrong. People were creatures of habit. The same individuals parked on the street day after day. Tonight, when he looked down his street, he saw cars that he didn’t recognize parked there
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