“To this day, she agrees Gerald made a terrible mistake but shouldn’t have gone to prison. They don’t seem to understand he killed a little girl who was the same age as their granddaughter. I had hoped the shock of going to prison would somehow convince Gerald he was going down the wrong path in life and needed to turn things around. But as soon as he got out of prison, he went back to his same old habits.”
Melissa paused before asking her next question. “Have your parents been following what your brother is doing?”
“They haven’t read any of your follow-up stories, even though I have printed copies out for them. They say they’re just ‘lies bad people are making up about our dear Gerald’. They still have his debate team trophy and high school graduation photo on the mantle. He will always be their favorite no matter what he does.”
“Could we get your parents’ number?” Melissa knew she needed to talk to all the relevant sources no matter what other people said. As Professor Duncan told her in his Intro to Journalism class: If your mother says she loves you, check it out.
“Not a problem.” Hartley wrote down the number on the back of his business card and handed it to Melissa.
“I have one last question: We’re pretty hungry. Do you know where we can get a nice dinner?”
Hartley laughed. “Sure. If you like steak, you can’t go wrong with Doc Pierce’s on Main and First. Even though it’s quite dark inside, they have a delightful collection of Tiffany lamps you should check out! Or you can eat on the patio if it’s still open this time of year.”
Jim and Melissa thanked the professor for his time and left the campus. Driving to dinner, they filled Schmidt in on what happened.
“This guy sounds dangerous.”
Jim nodded as they pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot. “Before today I would have said he was just an egomaniac who decided to use God as part of con game. But after hearing what Ed Hartley had to say, I’m beginning to think this guy still has a few tricks up his sleeve.”
After dinner the trio drove back to La Porte, thanking Schmidt as they dropped him off at the Herald Argus offices.
“No need to thank me.” He smiled at the two. “That was definitely better than what I had planned for the day.”
Checking into the hotel, they discussed a plan of attack as they walked to their second story rooms.
“I’ll call the parents and see what they have to say,” Melissa suggested. “I can brief you later on what happens.”
“Sounds good.”
Melissa called Jim on the hotel room phone several minutes later. He muted the “Headline News” broadcast as he picked up the phone and exchanged greetings.
“So, what’d they say?”
“I talked to Mom and she said basically the same thing Ed said she would say. Let me get the quote here: ‘Gerald is a good boy who has made a couple of mistakes in his life. He’s not perfect, just like the rest of us. I wish you people would just leave him alone.’ The rest of the interview went just like that.”
“Wow, his parents really don’t get what kind of guy Jeremiah Harmon really is.”
Melissa agreed. “No, he’s still their little boy and they are trying to fix his mistakes. It’s sad really.”
“Yeah, but the problem is, Jeremiah is not 8 years old anymore. His own brother said he is a cult leader, for crying out loud! Let’s hope all he does is just steal some money.”
“As opposed to what?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t trust this guy.”
“Yeah, me neither.”
—
9:42 a.m. Friday, September 26
After leaving La Porte mid-morning, the reporters headed back on the I-90 for the return drive to Chicago. Arriving in the city around noon, it took them another 20 minutes to weave through downtown lunchtime traffic to reach the Examiner offices, which took up the bottom four floors of a downtown high-rise.
Entering the second floor lobby, the receptionist had to buzz them into the bustling newsroom. While the Courier offices were busy, the cavernous office space that housed the Examiner reminded Jim of a factory floor, upon which news was being assembled like a luxury car. Everywhere he looked, Jim compared the Courier to the media corporation’s flagship paper east of the Mississippi River. The computers were newer, the lighting was better and the reporters were better dressed, suggesting a higher level of pay.
Melissa chuckled as she jabbed her elbow into his bicep. “Quit drooling, Jim. You’re acting like you’ve died and gone to newspaper heaven.”
“I think I have.”
Breaking the mood, a tall man in his mid-50s walked over and introduced himself as City Politics Editor Howie McLaughlin. Once taller than the 6 feet he now stood, a slight stoop in his shoulders complicated an accurate measurement. Jim figured he developed the curvature from hunching over a typewriter, then a computer keyboard for decades. Walking back to his desk, they briefed McLaughlin on what they had learned about Jeremiah Harmon.
“This guy sounds mucho loco.”
“Mucho loco?” Jim asked. Wow! Not only was he throwing around Spanish, he was doing it badly. A lot of editors he knew who were McLaughlin’s age had collected a few personalities quirks along the way.
“I spent a few years at the Courier in the 1980s before I returned here to the mother ship.”
“And they took you back?”
“After they made me swear never to say ‘dude’ again.”
“Sounds like a fair deal, dude.” Jim grinned. What a character! I wonder if I’ll be like this guy in 25 years?
At McLaughlin’s desk, Jim saw a slightly torn black-and-white picture with pushpins attaching it to his cubicle wall. The harsh light of an old screw-in camera flash bulb captured police and protesters in very close proximity.
“What’s the story behind that picture?”
“It was the first picture I had printed in the Examiner. It’s from the 1968 Democratic Convention. That picture was taken on Sunday night, August 25th.”
“Did you get hurt?”
McLaughlin dismissed the concern with a wave of his hand. “I got pushed around a bit, but I was 16 and invincible. I did lose a couple of flash bulbs, but that was about it.”
“Sounds pretty crazy.” Jim voice held more than a hint of admiration.
“It was, but that’s why I got into journalism. Where else can you be in the middle of a political protest one day, a bank robbery the next and not get arrested for either one?” Jim saw the gleam in McLaughlin’s eyes.
The editor showed them to two computers, where Jim and Melissa typed up their notes before merging the information into one comprehensive story. The two had developed a good rapport, which spilled over into their writing. As Jim edited the final story, Melissa suggested a few corrections.
McLaughlin walked up to them as they were fighting over the wording of the headline.
Melissa shook her head. “That’s too harsh.”
“It may be strong, but you can’t tell me it’s not true. It’s a direct quote from Hartley.”
“Yeah, who said he didn’t want to hurt his brother,” Melissa countered. “You can’t tell me this doesn’t hurt Jeremiah.”
“The man is a con artist who is preying on the weak and depressed. We really don’t owe him anything. He’s a public figure bent on taking advantage of those around him. What was it Joseph Pulitzer said was his goal? ‘Comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.’”
The editor interrupted the conversation. “Actually that was Finley Peter Dunne, a 19th century reporter from Chicago. He worked for the competition, so we don’t talk about him too much.” McLaughlin flashed a toothy smile. “At any rate, Jim makes a good point. If this Jeremiah fellow is hurting other people, it’s our job as reporters to let folks know what he’s doing. You’re not making the facts up, you’re just reporting them.”
“No fair, two against one.” She raised her hands in surrender. “OK, Jim, we’ll go with your headline. But you owe m
e lunch for letting you win.”
“Small price to pay.” He smiled as he typed out the story’s headline:
BROTHER CALLS SHEPHERD JEREMIAH ‘CULT LEADER’
—
3:37 p.m. Friday
After finishing their story, Jim and Melissa drove to Navy Pier on Lake Michigan for a late lunch at the Bubba Gump Shrimp Company. They shared a popcorn shrimp appetizer and Melissa ordered the Cobb salad, while Jim dined on the fish and chips. Melissa was thankful the lunchtime conversation was light, but the distracted look in Jim’s eyes suggested he had something on his mind. When they had finished their meal, she and Jim toured the pier. They admired the Ferris wheel and other attractions in the Navy Pier Park. As they passed the Billy Goat Tavern, Jim couldn’t help but laugh as he explained the John Belushi “Cheeseborger! Cheeseborger! Cheeseborger!” Saturday Night Live sketch based on the original restaurant’s owner. Melissa nodded her head and smiled as Jim told the story. Melissa had watched the show a few times in the late-1990s when she was in high school, but she wasn’t particularly a big fan.
As they exited the building and walked along Lake Michigan, the crisp wind made the 61-degree weather feel quite a bit cooler. She put on her chocolate brown pea coat, but determined it wasn’t cold enough yet to button it up. She sighed. I might as well break the ice.
“So, what are you thinking about?”
“What are you talking about?” Jim was trying to sound innocent but failing.
“I’m a reporter, too, remember? I know the telltale signs when someone is thinking but doesn’t want to talk about what’s on their mind.” She smiled.
“Am I that obvious?”
“Pretty much, so spill it.”
“Um…” Jim grimaced. “I was thinking about what I said the other day about my relationship with Tina and I was wondering what you thought about me now that you know I lived with someone before.”
That’s a good question. I don’t know how I feel about it yet either. On a certain level, Melissa cared for Jim as a friend and, because he was a non-believer, she wanted to see him become a Christian. But she would be a liar if she did not admit her feelings for Jim clouded her advice. Melissa knew she couldn’t blithely claim she didn’t care about his past love life or whom he might want to go out with in the future when she had thought about dating him herself. She knew she shouldn’t be thinking about that. She still agreed with her sister, Elizabeth, that dating a non-believer was wrong. But the more she worked with Jim, the more she was drawn to his sarcastic sense of humor and their shared love of the power of the printed word. She admitted she was put off by the unhealthy ego that still surfaced from time to time.
As the lull in conversation extended past a few seconds, Melissa noticed Jim’s curious look shifted to frustration.
“That’s what I thought. You’re judging me because I don’t play life by the same rules you do. How very Christian of you!”
“Hold on a second!” Jim’s snippy behavior put Melissa on the defensive. “I didn’t say that. As a matter of fact, I didn’t say anything.”
“I could see it in your eyes.”
“The only thing you could see was me trying to figure out how to answer your question.”
“So, what is your answer? Do you think of me differently because I told you I lived with Tina?”
“Come on Jim, you know it’s not that simple. We have a complicated relationship. We’re both attracted to each other, but we know this can’t go anywhere. But it’s still hard for me to talk to you about your ex-girlfriend.”
“Why, because you’re jealous?”
Am I? Blindsided by the question, Melissa carefully considered her response. “I suppose I am a little bit.” She paused again. “It’s hard to talk with you about this kind of thing, because I always feel like I need to be on guard with you. You’re an investigative reporter, after all.” Her grin broke the tension.
“Very funny.”
“This would be a lot easier if I could talk to you like you were one of my girlfriends.”
“Why can’t you?”
She looked at him quizzically. Does he really know what he’s asking? “Are you sure about that?”
“I’m game if you are.”
“OK…” She took a minute to focus her thoughts. All you have to do is think of what you would tell your roommate Sarah if she came to ask for your advice about a guy she was dating. She convinced herself she could do this. But she was going to have a little fun with him along the way.
“Well first, girlfriend, those pants don’t match those shoes. We need to take you to Macy’s and get you a whole new outfit—” she tried to continue, but they both broke into laughter.
“Seriously, though,” Jim said as the laughter subsided. “Back to Tina. What’s your answer?”
“Yeah, I do think of you a little differently now. Somewhere in the back of my mind I had left a door open for us, but this is a reminder of how different we really are.”
He groaned. “Oh come on, you’re not going to preach me a sermon, are you?”
“No, I’m not going to preach to you, but you asked for my honestly and sometimes the truth hurts.”
“Fair enough.”
“But if you’re going to be friends with me, you’ve got to know my faith is a central part of who I am. The Melissa you know in the newsroom is also the Melissa who goes to church. And the Melissa who goes to church thinks it’s a bad idea to live with someone before marriage even if you’re not a Christian.”
She saw the incredulity sweep across his face. “Why does it matter if I live with someone if I’m not a Christian? Besides, it’s easier to live together than to get married anyway.”
“But you said yesterday how terrible the break-up was. Basically, you didn’t save yourself any heartbreak, only legal fees.”
“When you put that way…”
“Besides, why would want to share something that intimate with someone you’re going to break up with later anyway?”
“Good point.” Jim paused momentarily. “I have a question. Are you speaking from experience or is this all theoretical for you?”
“I fell hard for my first college boyfriend because he was older and seemed very interested in me. I found out pretty quickly he was interested in me for more than my mind. Let’s just say I went further than I had intended to. The relationship didn’t end very well.”
“Oh, so you do have first-hand knowledge of the ways of love?”
“Yes I do, and I know how bad things can get when a relationship falls apart. You said before that the break-up with Tina was bad?”
“Honestly, it was about the worst pain I had felt since my dad died. I was in love with Tina, or I thought I was in love with her. Either way, when she left we told ourselves the lie that it was for the best. But it really wasn’t. I was, well…heartbroken. That’s when I decided serious dating wasn’t for me. I just concentrated on being the best reporter I could. Now look at me.” Melissa sensed even Jim knew how false his smile appeared.
“That’s my point: living together isn’t easier or less painful. People were made to be in committed, lifelong relationships.”
“By whom? God?” Melissa felt the sarcastic undercurrent in Jim’s tone.
“Yes, by God. I believe He made us to be partnered together with another person so we can help each other during the tragedies and celebrate together during the victories of life.”
“‘For richer, for poorer’…”
“Something like that. At any rate, we can talk more about God some other time. Even scientific research shows that people in life-long relationships experience more emotional happiness and seem to have fewer health problems than those who are alone or have inconsistent relationships.”
“OK. So what about the sex part?”
“Well, I think you would agree sex is the most intimate thing you can do with another person. So, once you have sex, then what?”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
&
nbsp; “Once you have sex, where does the relationship go from there? If you’re just living together, there’s always the possibility the other person will be packed and ready to leave when you get home at the end of the day. But, if you’re married and committed to spend the rest of your life together in a relationship built on trust and openness, what better time can there be to have sex?” Feeling confident, Melissa paused. “Have I made my case?”
“Wow! Being your ‘girlfriend’ sure isn’t easy.”
“You have no idea.” They shared a much-needed laugh.
“Anything else you want to talk about?”
Melissa paused as a smirk crossed her lips. “Well, we’ve covered sex and religion. You want to talk about politics next?”
“No thanks! I think I’ll quit while I’m behind.”
19
After their story on Ed Hartley ran on Sunday, September 28, and Jeremiah replied with a scathing letter Ken ran in the Opinions section as a guest column the following Wednesday, they heard little from the controversial pastor or his flock. In mid-October, the state attorney general had made a big deal about forming a task force to look into the allegations against Jeremiah, but sources at the lawmaker’s office said charges wouldn’t likely be brought until January at the earliest. Except for a couple of short articles about the task force, Jim and Melissa shifted their focus from Jeremiah or New Creation to other assignments. The daily grind of newspaper reporting filled their time. The two still met every week, but it was more a time of social conversation than anything to do with the church.
—
9:15 a.m. Monday, November 3
Melissa was sorting her mail from the weekend when she came across a greeting-card sized envelope with a return address of a post office box in Crestline.
“Hmm.” She found the letter opener she kept in the top drawer of her desk and carefully sliced open the envelope. The handwritten invitation informed her of a harvest banquet being held by Shepherd Jeremiah and the New Creation Community. The invitation said the casual affair was open to family and select friends. She walked over to Jim to share the news.
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