KENNY - 5. Chapter 5

After the penitent had left, Fa. James sat in the Confessional trying to absorb what he’d just heard. It was hard to accept that a brother priest could commit such a horrendous crime. He was shaken to the core; never before had he faced such an awful confession. Then the urge for normality overpowered him and he longed for his customary cup of tea with Fa. O’Brien.

‘My heavens man, you look awful!’ Fa. O’Brien remarked when Fa. James entered the kitchen. The latter was walking as if in a state of shock; his head hung low and his eyes appeared to be unfocused. He sat down heavily in a chair, and simply stared at the steaming cup of tea placed in front of him.

Both men sipped their tea in silence. Eventually,

‘Remember some weeks ago you told me you’d just heard a very startling confession?’

‘Yes, of course. I still think about it; I mean, if it wasn’t for the sanctity of the confessional, I should have reported the matter to the police. Who knows . . . perhaps the very same man might have killed that little girl. No . . . no, it couldn’t be; he was lusting after young boys, not girls. Oh damn it, I’ve said too much.’

‘No, now I have an understanding of how you must’ve felt. How does it feel, having the confession on your conscience?’

‘Feel, how did it feel? It feels bad. I feel frustrated and angry that I can’t say anything; that I must protect this evil person just to protect the sanctity of confession. Ummm . . . why do you ask?’

‘Because I’ve just heard the confession of the person who killed the little indigenous girl, the little eight year old child that was brutally raped and then killed.’

‘Sweet Jesus . . . No!’ Fa. O’Brien nearly dropped the cup he was holding. He simply stared at Fa. James with a stunned look.

‘He admitted to the crime? That he raped the child and then killed her?’

‘It’s so . . . and there was more?’

‘More?’

‘Yes, more. Apparently there is a ring of pedophiles operating around the town, and perhaps much wider.’

Then followed silence as both men grappled with their emotions; struggled with the enormity of the atrocity; the enormity of their dilemma . . . , and the hopelessness of their position. Fa. James broke the silence,

‘I probably shouldn’t have said anything to you. Am I breaking my oath on the sanctity of confession?

‘Probably! And I shouldn’t have said anything about my ghastly confession. In a sense we’re both breaking our vows, but . . .’

‘Let’s just say that we’re confessing to each other. Will that satisfy our oath?’

(Sounding miserable) ‘Probably.’ And then,

‘James, let’s try and sum up the whole situation as we know it.’ (Seeing Fa. James nod) he continued,

‘We know that there is a ring of pedophiles operating in this town and that it extends both to young boys and young girls; (Father James nodded agreement) and it’s quite possible that the ring extends beyond the town, even to within the state and country. (Again Father James nodded.) We also have a confession from a catholic brother to the rape and murder of that little aboriginal child.’

At that point Fa. O’Brien stopped and the two priests just looked at each other. This was an incredible position to be in. A horrible position to be in. But there they were, bound together by their knowledge of the crime and crimes, and their vow to uphold the sanctity of the confessional. It was Fa. O’Brien who spoke to break the silence,

‘James, we share a horrible bond, so please call me Peter; this is no time to be formal with each other.’ (Fa. James silently nodded his thanks) Then Fa. O’Brien stood up and began pacing the floor,

‘We can’t do anything . . .’ Just then James interrupted,

‘Peter, I’ve remembered something. When he was in the confessional, the penitent was crying and I invited him to use the tissues that we make available for distressed souls. Those tissues would carry his DNA . . .’

‘Go get them now James, before any of our volunteer ladies throws them out. I’ll wait till you get back. I’ll make some more tea.’

In no time Fa. James was back carrying a box containing several used tissues.

‘I don’t know what good these are Peter, all they really do is support the confession. We need to be able to have a name to this evidence.’

‘(With a sigh) yes I know, that’s what’s so frustrating, but I’ve been doing some thinking whilst you were gone. We, as priests, can’t do anything about the past crimes. Those we’ll have to leave with the authorities. As far as the tissues are concerned, we will just keep them until we grapple with the larger problem.’

‘And that is . . . ?’

‘Our vow to uphold the sanctity of the confessional on one hand, and our duty to stop any further major crimes being committed on young children.’

‘Millis losa! We have to make that kind of choice?

‘James, (laughing) I notice you always lapse into Gaelic when you’re distressed.’

‘I do . . . I’m not sure; I’m neither prepared nor competent to make such a decision. Peter, I’m just a young parish priest; you’re asking me to make a decision that will not only affect my life but the future of the church. Shouldn’t we involve the church hierarchy in a momentous decision such as you’re proposing?’

‘Yes, of course we should. But James we don’t have the luxury of time. Because young children are involved we can’t afford to wait!’

‘Sound like you’ve made your decision?’

‘No, not yet; I’m just presenting the problem as I see it. Let’s take another day to make our decision. We both should weigh up the consequences of either staying silent or speaking out. Perhaps we should consult Mr. Johnny Walker for inspiration. Yes?’

♂♂

‘. . . So that’s it in a nutshell! We have tonnes of evidence but no name to associate with the evidence. Forensics don’t have anything more than the DNA. The question is how do we match the DNA to a person?’

Gloria spoke up with,

‘Detective Inspector, I’ve been hearing rumors about abbo kids doing sex favors to men and getting paid for their services.’

Laurie Cree exploded. ‘How come I’m just hearing about this now? How long have you been keeping this information from me?’

‘I have told you before; you either weren’t listening or you chose to ignore it! In fact all the cops here have heard the same rumors. Why they haven’t said a word is probably because you tend to raise your voice . . . just like you’re doing now!’

Wow! These two have history (thought Tom Fitzpatrick) Looks like we have a communications breakdown between the staff and sergeant Cree. I must look into this. Could be that info is not being passed on. That’s Cree’s fault.

‘Constable, don’t you dare talk back to me, I’ll . . .’

‘Hey, stop this! Remember we’re all supposed to be working together.’ And then when tempers had cooled down,

‘I’m getting a lot of pressure from Burke Street and the indigenous community to solve this case, so Senior Constable why don’t you fill me in on what you know.’

So Gloria, (without identifying names) outlined Kenny’s info from Billy Yorta and her own suspicions based on rumors. When she finished Tom Fitzpatrick sat forward in his chair,

‘So, (sounding enthusiastic) if we could interrogate these kids we'll probably pick up some more leads. It’s our only pointer to avoid a dead end.’ But Cree wasn’t going to give in.

‘Let me assure you Detective Inspector,’ intoned a belligerent Sergeant Cree. ‘Regardless of what Senior Constable Meadows had inferred, there is no pedophile ring operating in or near this town. If there was, I would have heard about it!’ Gloria responded,

‘Detective Inspector . . .’

‘Please, both of you call me Tom when we’re alone. Sometimes formality has its drawbacks.’ (Both Gloria and Laurie Cree acknowledged their thanks). Gloria continued,

‘The problem is I don’t think the abbo kids will open up. It’s a great source of income for their parents; in short they need the money.’

‘Christ Almighty! I don’t believe that parents would want to have their kids sexually molested let alone enjoy the money the kids earn. That’s fuck’n awful!’ Fitzpatrick sat back in his chair with a look of disbelief. Then after a pause,

‘Well, it’s the only lead we’ve got so let’s give it a try. How about we start interviewing the kids at the local Marist brother’s college?’

‘Yeah,’ said Sergeant Cree with a sneer. ‘Who’s gonna ask Br. Dominic? And how are you gonna get the parents’ permission if they’re the ones you say are profiting from the kids’ activities? Lots of luck!’

♂♂

Eventually Ruth Jalla’s body was released to her parents and the burial rites began. Because custom demanded that her name could not be mentioned she was simply called ‘unynah’ meaning ‘sleeping child’. People that were friends, and others who were mere acquaintances, came from all over to join in the ‘big sorrow’.

The bereaving family stayed in their house to welcome all well wishes; there was a lot of crying and weeping for poor little ‘unynah’. The elders sat together and watched as ceremonial dances were performed and food distributed. As an adopted brother, Kenny felt it his duty to attend and invited Gloria to come with him. Billy Yorta was there of course, as he was considered a part of Ruth’s enlarged family. When Kenny and Gloria had courteously extended their regrets on the passing of Unynah, they sat and joined in the sorrowful proceedings.

‘Shit, I feel awful,’ Gloria whispered. ‘It’s gonna become common knowledge soon that all the abbo kids at the school are to be interrogated; I feel shitty just sitting here and not being able to say anything. Sometimes I hate this job!’

‘When’s that gonna happen? How can you do that without the parents attending or at least giving their permission? First I’ve heard of it! It stinks.’

‘Yeah I agree, but Tom Fitzpatrick thinks it’s our only lead; the investigation is going nowhere. He thinks that the kids might know something; at least they might open up a new line of investigation.’

‘Well, I reckon it’ll be a no-go; kids don’t like talking to adults anyways and for them to grass on each other is . . . no it’s stupid.’

Just then Billy sauntered over and said thanks for comin’ Mr. K and you too Missus.’

‘It’s Ok Billy; we want to pay our respects.’

‘Ummm . . . when you sees Mr. Jeff will you tell ‘im not to worry; is’ll keep me gob shut and won’t say a word. Tell ‘im not to worry; I’m cool.’

‘Billy, what the fuck are you talking about?’

‘I means when they’se gonna ask me and me mates questions about us suck’n cock.’

Gloria pounced,

‘How did you know about the proposed interrogation? It’s only been decided on yesterday.’

‘Hey come on missus. That fuckwitt Sar’n Cree been shooting his gob around. Reckon it ain’t a big secret round here.’

Gloria and Kenny exchanged glances; Kenny was bewildered, whilst Gloria was furious. Was Cree a blabbermouth or were his motives more sinister? Was he setting out to undermine the interrogation? Kenny found voice,

‘Billy, where does Jeff Cree come into the picture? What has he got to do with you?’

‘Ummm . . . I thinks I . . . err . . . I’se said too much, boss; best you ‘ave a talk to Mr. Jeff.’

That (thought Kenny) I will certainly do!

♂♂

They sat immobile not looking at each other but staring at their teacups. It had been a long, restless, and agonizing night for both priests. The residence’s kitchen was large enough to accommodate a table on which was now set a teapot and pieces of buttered toast; however neither man had any appetite.

‘Well, what have you decided on, James? One look at your face tells me it’s been a long night; I guess we both look the worst for wear.’

‘I’m sorry Peter . . . I haven’t decided anything; I’ve gone around and around until I just confused meself. I suppose I’m gonna take the cowards way out and do nothing; remember its but newly ordained I am and an issue like this was never put before us in the seminary. We were told that the secrecy of the confessional was a sacrament not to be misused, and I’ll be still strongly supporting the principle. I know we’re talking about children . . . I know that, but surely it’s an issue for the police to confront - not us.’

Peter O’Brien considered this and sat thoughtfully looking at James.

‘Ah, James, your soft Irish brogue is pleasant music in a situation like this. What you say is true and I respect you standing by your principles. In fact, I’m glad you are, because I’ve decided as Parish priest the onus is on me to take issue on the matter (he watched as Fa. James face relaxed). As I said last night, I see the issue as preserving the sanctity of confession on one hand and protecting children on the other. I believe the necessity to protect children is paramount. I don’t believe that protecting the privacy of the confessional should override our responsibility to prevent crimes being committed – particularly against little kids.’

‘Peter, (as James stirred his tea) I’m feeling the same and I agree with what you’re saying; perhaps I just don’t have the courage to take any action. I’m ashamed; I wish I had your courage.’ Fa. James sat in his chair looking miserable and Fa. O’Brien could sense his inner conflict.

‘James, there is a lot to learn in being a priest; things happen in real life that they can’t teach you in college. I don’t want you to break your vows so early in your career; all I want you to do is perhaps give me advice when I tell you what I’m going to do.’

Fa. O’Brien levied himself out of the chair and crossed over to the sink where the recently boiled kettle was standing. Almost to himself he mused,

‘We’ve spent many a pleasant time in this place and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed not only your company but our wide ranging discussions. Unfortunately fate sometimes shakes us out of our complacency; like now. (Pausing to replenish his tea) I’m not going to make it easy on the police, but I intend to send an anonymous letter to the man in charge of the investigation that a catholic brother has confessed to the brutal murder of the little girl. That’s all I will do; it should be enough for the police to intensify their investigations. If I’m asked a direct question I shall refuse by honoring the secrecy of the confessional. What do you think?’

‘Ahhh . . . Peter, Peter that’s a fine elegant solution. It’s great! Maybe we . . . you’re being clever but I know you can look yourself in the mirror and believe you’ve done the right thing. Can I help you with the letter?’

‘You’d better young man; I’m no good with this computer stuff and I’m certainly not going to write the letter by hand; my handwriting is unfortunately unique. I want to make sure it’s delivered without delay.’

♂♂

The following morning in a field near the college Bro. Simon’s body was found by two young boys; it had been severely mutilated as well as being stabbed through the heart with what looked like, an Aboriginal spear. The formal identification was made by Bro. Dominic who collapsed after seeing the carnage done to Bro. Simon.