KENNY - 8. Chapter 8

Not wanting to make a phone call, Fitzpatrick and Gloria headed to the forensic lab which had been established at the local hospital. They remained silent avoiding any speculation on the supposedly good news.

They were ushered into the lab where the chief forensic scientist met them excitedly, and asked them to be seated.

‘Well, (demanded Tom Fitzpatrick) for Christ’s sake don’t keep us in suspense; what have you got?

‘As I reported Tom, before we’d been all over the corpse . . .’

‘Jesus . . . get on with it! I don’t want a history lesson; what have you found?’

‘We didn’t (sounding apologetic) inspect the appendage that had been placed in the corpse mouth. After all it’s not usual procedure . . .’

‘For shit’s sake (angrily) what have you found?’

‘Spit!’

‘Spit . . . you found spit. What’s so . . . (it dawned on Fitzpatrick) DNA! You’ve got the bastard’s DNA. (Jumping up from his chair) Are you telling me we have the perp’s DNA?’

‘Yes inspector, that’s what I’m telling you; we were able to extract the foreign DNA from the sample of spit we obtained. And it’s a good sample; whoever did this was extremely careless, not to mention cruel.’

‘Wow! (this from Gloria) all we have to do now is match the DNA to someone; I guess Boss that you’ll want DNA samples of all the college students and faculty soonest?’

‘You betcha . . . round them up senior constable; this is the breakthrough we’ve been waiting for. I’ll leave that in your hands Gloria; soonest.’

♂♂

In the midst of all the excitement, Brother Peter appeared at the police station and asked to see the Detective in charge of the investigation. He looked a wreck. The dark circles under his eyes bespoke of many sleepless nights and the tremor of his hands indicated extreme nervous tension. With Gloria over at the Marist College, Fitzpatrick took the Brother into the interrogation room, accompanied by another cop as witness.

‘Well brother, what’ve you to tell me; you indicated at the desk that you’ve something to confess.’ The professional in Fitzpatrick scrutinized the man before him.

Hmmm . . . He’s definitely in distress; has not slept well for a while, and shaking with tension. I’d say the man is struggling with heavy guilt and he's about to emotionally collapse. Something tells me I’ll have to handle this priest with extreme care.

‘Brother . . .?’

‘I . . . my name is . . . Bro. . . . Brother Peter. Yes, Brother Peter; I, t . . . t.t teach at the Marist College here.’

‘Can I just call you Peter? (Affirmative nod) Peter; just relax and in your own time tell me what’s troubling you. Oh . . . I’m being inhospitable; would you like something to drink . . . tea or coffee?’

‘Ummm, coffee please; no milk, just two sugars. (The young cop disappeared to fetch coffee)’

Fitzpatrick turned on a recording devise and went through the process of stating the time, the date and identifying all present.

‘What do you teach at the college Peter?

'I teach History. I’ve loved history from when I was a young lad; I used to borrow all the books on ancient history that I could, and soon I became very knowledgeable on both the Roman and Greek . . .’

‘Thanks (interrupting) Peter, but can we stick to the reason you’re here.’

Bro. Peter (silently) took a deep breath to try and compose himself. He knew he was in a bargaining position, but didn’t know how far he could push himself with this cop. Looking at Fitzpatrick, he saw a man in his forties with a craggy face and eyes that seemed never to smile. His demeanor told of a man who had seen too much of violence and tragedy. But his deportment was relaxed and nonthreatening.

‘(Slowly and carefully) before I perjure myself I want an affirmation that the information I give you won’t bring charges against me. What I’m about to tell you will help your investigation, but I want some assurances that I’ll be treated leniently, and my contribution recognized; I want to be treated as a witness for the crown. Do I have your assurance?’

‘No! Of course not! I can’t give you such assurances, but (sounding reasonable) I can recommend to the Public Prosecutor that, if your information is material and assists us in solving this case, the prosecutor’s office will treat you leniently.’

‘No, (assertively) that’s hardly an inducement; remember I came here of my own free will. I need some encouragement to tell you my story.’

‘I’m sorry Peter, that’s all I can do for you at this time; I mean I haven’t yet heard what you have to say so I can’t judge the veracity of what you’re about to tell us. But, you have my assurance that I’ll regard your information, such as it, very favorably.’

Just then the coffee arrived and this gave Brother Peter pause to consider what Fitzpatrick had said.

I can’t back out now. He seems a reasonable man for a copper and I can’t continue like this. I’m not built to sustain any emotional trauma. (Sigh) I’ve crossed my own Rubicon; the dye is cast.

‘Now just take your time, Peter; tell us what’s troubling you.’

‘(Slowly and haltingly) although I’ve taken the vow of celibacy, I can’t control my yearning to have sex with a partner . . . a male partner. (Pause) I believe I am homosexual and you know what the Catholic Church thinks of homosexuals and homosexual acts; (becoming agitated)but I believe they’re wrong, very wrong . . .’

‘Peter, try and keep to the facts; believe me, when you’ve got all your troubles out in the open, you’ll feel relieved. (Fitzpatrick looked to the young cop and was rewarded with a nod) So try and keep to the facts. As far as being homosexual is concerned, my personal opinion is that being gay is far more natural than being celebrate.’

‘Ummm . . . sorry; (gaining confidence) well I heard that some of the Abbo kids were performing sexual favors for money and . . . I . . . arranged to meet the boys after school in a secluded place. Sometimes it was the same boy, but sometimes other boys offered themselves. It was the money. The money I gave them apparently was given to their parents; they knew what we were doing. It was a win, win situation; I got sexual relief and the parents received extra money to spend on . . . well, I don’t really know. Just money to spend I guess.’

‘So you’re admitting you had sex with under-age boys; boys who were your students. Is that what you’re saying?’

‘Ye. Ummm . . . Yes.’

‘(sternly) that would constitute two criminal charges; one, having sex with a minor; and two, failing your duty of care as a teacher. Both can be serious offences.’

‘But (passionately) they weren’t victims. I didn’t force myself on any boy. They gladly performed sex favors because it was working well for everyone. It would have continued (raising his voice) had not stupid Brother Simon killed that poor little girl. He was a disaster waiting to happen and I can never forgive him for killing the child. We all operated on the principle that no harm would come to the children. It was kept very, very quiet. I’ve also heard that other men, not clergy, are using the boy’s favors. There is a very active ring of . . . well, pedophiles; not only here but throughout the state.’

‘And (harshly) you can supply details of who these men are?’

‘No! . . . No, I can’t . . . but I know who can?’

‘Well who? . . . Come on Peter you’ve done very well so far; tell us who this person is.’

‘The man who co-ordinates all activities; who arranges communications, and whose been blackmailing myself and other brothers for years . . . Brother Michael!’

Silence . . .

‘(Disbelief) Brother Michael! The deputy principal of the college?’

‘Yes! He’s also the sport master and is very dangerous; I believe he’s capable of anything. He’s a very hard man; he behaves like a mafia Don.’

‘Do you think he killed Brother Simon?’

‘At first I did, and that’s when I started to get very frightened. I know Brother Simon was wavering and considering giving himself up. Before he was killed he was a wreck; he couldn’t have lasted much longer before he had a physical and mental breakdown. He was a threat to all of us.’

‘You say, at first you believed Brother Michael to be the killer . . . I take it now you’re not so sure?’

‘No; I mean yes . . . because I know he communicates with someone else. I’ve heard snippets of conversation when he didn’t know I was listening. He talks to, or reports to someone else.’

‘Let’s back up a bit and talk about Brother Simon’s murder. First, did you have any knowledge that he’d killed Ruth Jalla?’

‘(Emphatically) No . . . No, I did not! But after the girl was found I had my suspicions. Bro. Simon was an emotional mess; he didn’t have any self-control.’

‘Aha (thoughtfully) and when Bro. Simon’s body was found, what was your reaction?’

‘Fear! (Choke) Fear so real I could smell and taste it! I knew I’d be next.’

‘Why? Why did you think you were in danger?’

(Angrily) Because Bro. Michael told me! He has this hold over everybody. Anybody who didn’t comply with his demands was threatened with exposure; not to the police . . . you guys, but to the diocese.’

Why . . .?’

(Laughing) Because the culprit would have been chastised by the Bishop and moved to another location; it would never go as far as being reported to you people. But your days as a clergyman would be over. This has happened in so many cases; too many cases.

(Gathering confidence) You lay people have got no idea how much the church has covered up sex crimes against children! And I mean real crimes, when great harm has been done to children in the church’s care; in boarding schools; with altar boys; molesting choirboys and girls. And it goes back a very long time!

(Pausing to gather his thoughts) What’s really incredible is that all of the offenses have been fully documented and handled by reputable solicitors. The Church has been paying shut up money to victims and then legally compelling them to silence. The whole litany of injustices has been hushed up.

This is incredible; if what he says is true we will have to shift our attention to the entire Catholic Church. Shit! This is a Bombshell! Good ol’ Bro. Peter does not comprehend the ammunition he’s just divulged. Fuck me! This will make my career. But I’ll have to be careful not to let the Brother realize how important a witness he is. But it’s too much for me to handle by myself; I’ll have to buck it upstairs. Now . . . what to do about the Brother?

(Speaking sternly) ‘That’s an incredible accusation Peter; do you have proof? I mean you just can’t go making wild accusations without being able to back them up. What can you tell me?’

‘It (Sensing he held the upper hand) it depends on what you can offer me. If the deal is right, I’ll give you names of the perpetrators and some of the victims. But I want a deal.’

‘Oh do you! (Speaking slowly and thoughtfully) Well, here’s all I can do for you now. I won’t charge you at this time, but I’ll immediately take the matter up with the Public prosecutor and see what we can offer you; but I must ask that you surrender your passport. That’s all for now, Ok?’

He closed the recording device down.

♂♂

After receiving Fitzpatrick’s call, Gloria hurried back to the police station. With a fresh coffee in her hand Gloria listened to the recorded interview with Br. Peter.

“That’s incredible,’ she managed. ‘This is becoming awesome; what are you going to do?’

‘I’ve made an appointment with the Prosecutor to discuss the whole matter. I’ve no doubt it’ll be taken out of our hands; it’s too big for us. Anyway, our main focus must be on solving the murder of Bro. Simon. But I’m gonna recommend a charge followed by a suspended sentence for Bro. Peter; that’s the best we can do.’

‘But (sounding terse) he’s admitted to having sex with underage boys; not to mention failing in his duty of care as a teacher.’

‘True; and if he hadn’t supplied us with info on pedophiles, I would’ve been very severe, even if, as he claims, there is no victimization involved. He’s just lucky he brought a big bargaining chip to the table.’

‘I guess (sounding exasperated) we have to swallow the proverbial bitter pill.’

‘Yes; now tell me how we’re progressing with the DNA swabs?’

‘We’re not; at least we’ve only got to do the faculty. The children are off limits, unless we have their parent’s consent; that’s not gonna happen. Bro. Michael is becoming very hostile.’

‘I (angry) bet he is; according to Bro. Peter he’s in this up to his hairy armpits. I’m convinced that the Marist College is the hub of a criminal conspiracy involving murder and pedophilia. When I first came here if you had said that to me, I would’ve had you transferred to the outback.’

‘Thanks (laughing), and I would have disserved it. But where are we now; I mean how should we proceed?’

‘The first issue is to find out how far Bro. Michael is involved in this mess. Bro. Peter says he talks to someone else . . .’

‘But (interrupting) doesn’t he think the brother capable of killing . . .’

‘Yes, I know. But we have to learn more. We need to have something against him to make him talk.’

‘How we gonna do that?’

‘Tap his phone. I’ll get the local judge to give me the authority based on Bro. Peter’s interview.’

♂♂

It was the sight of a Twenty-dollar note in the man’s hand that persuaded Billy to overcome his original reluctance. He was a big white man with a powerfully muscular frame. The stubby shorts he wore showed brawny muscles and the tan of a skin obviously gained from working outside. His eyes were narrow and it seemed, menacing; but when he lowered his shorts all Billy could think was a bit of fun and a quick twenty dollars . . . for him, not his boozy dad.

‘C’mon blackie, I hear tell you’se is good with yer mouth. I ain’t had no sex with m’ missus and me balls are set to bust. Do a good job and I might give you’se another ten dollars. That’s a good lad!’

So Billy knelt before the man and grabbed hold of his penis . . . and never saw the heavy punch to the side of his head that sent him crashing onto his back. This was swiftly followed by a kick to his guts and more vicious kicks followed to every part of Billy’s exposed body.

‘You dirty piece of black trash (oomph) I’ve heard about yer filthy doings and I’m here to teach ya a lesson (oomph). Yer fuck’n disgusting (oomph) you and those filthy poofter priests; ya make me sick (thump).’

Billy was in so much pain he hardly heard what the man was saying. Defensively, he’d doubled up into a fetal position to try and absorb the kicks as they slammed into his body. He was kicked in the head; to his stomach; on his buttocks; to his thighs and between his shoulder blades. It was a follow up kick to his stomach that started him retching . . . over and over and over.

Then if his pain-racked body had not endured enough, the man began to urinate on Billy’s tormented body. A thick steady stream of pungent urine was slashed all over his body; it went on and on until the man emptied himself and looked down on his creation.

‘You and the rest of you bludging black trash should be herded into a concentration camp and the Hitler solution applied. The country would be well off if you and yer kind just simply disappeared . . . hopefully into an oven. If I haven’t made meself clear, here’s my parting message . . . and he spat a thick gob of yellow spit onto Billy’s pain ravaged face.

He was in so much pain he couldn’t move; any movement only amplified his distress. He began to moan and then started crying.

‘Shut the fuck up! Or I’ll give you’se another dose of me foot. Shut up faggot; you’se disgusting and so’s yer fucking black parents. Fuck’n black wingers; yous’re parasites . . . and here’s (thump) one for good riddance.’

Billy didn’t feel the last kick as he slipped from semi-conscience into a comatose state. He was out cold.

♂♂

Luckily, about an hour later he was found by one of the other kids out looking for business. His call to triple zero activated an alert to the police as well as calling for an ambulance. Gloria responded immediately and was first on the scene; a scene that horrified her. Billy was barely breathing and deep in shock. She kept his head as comfortable as possible until the ambulance arrived and whilst waiting she could smell the urine on the kid’s shorts and footy jumper.

Mongrels! Don’t worry Billy I’ll find out who did this. This was a gutless attack on a young kid. Whoever did this is a very sick spineless piece of shit; but he’s left his calling card all over you and that’s gonna be his downfall.

Billy looked a pitiful sight as the paramedics tried to make him comfortable before loading him into the waiting ambulance. As they were placing Billy into the ambulance she asked about the extent of Billy’s injuries.

‘He’s got two broken ribs and one has fractured near his heart; it’s that we’re most concerned about. Other than that, the boy has sustained vicious trauma to just about every part of his body; the kick to the side of his head rendered his unconscious and the doctor will probably put him into an induced coma. I hope you get the cruel bastard who did this; I’ve seen many attacks on people but nothing like this . . . and to a kid. This was a planned attack Senior Constable; I hope the vermin gets charged with attempted murder.’

‘I want his clothes and a sample of the spit on his face (the paramedic nodded); there’s enough DNA evidence here to bag this fucker; don’t botch the job. Get the results to Detective Inspector Tom Fitzpatrick as quickly as possible. Are we good? (Another nod)

‘Right! (Sadly) I’m off to tell his parents.’

♂♂

The emergency room was crammed with Billy’s relatives and as Gloria walked through, they all wanted to know who did this to Billy. To the assembled cluster of distraught black faces she tried to give some comfort.

‘I’m just going to talk to the doctors; I’m sure they’ll be with you presently to give an update on Billy’s situation. But I want to assure you we’ll get the cockroach who did this to Billy; he’s just a kid and this vicious attack will bring the full weight of the white man’s law down on him.’

Two of the elders looked at each other and nodded slowly; tribal law had been sanctioned.

♂♂

Gloria felt conflicting emotions of rage and sadness as she looked down on Billy Yorta. Here was this beautiful sixteen-year-old kid functioning only on life support systems, the steady ‘beep’, ‘beep’ of the monitors, being the only evidence that the child was alive.

She threw a questioning glance at one of the doctors who then indicated she should follow him outside.

‘He’s really taken a battering; (shaking his head) I haven’t seen a case like this, particularly to a child, for a long time. Besides the trauma to his body the blow to his head has us worried. We’ll have to do a catscan to determine if there is any permanent damage to his brain. Our immediate concern is that a blood clot may develop and cause a hemorrhage; so we’ve introduced blood thinners to the drip, hoping they'll prevent a clot developing. (Pause)

‘We’ve stabilized the fractured rib that was threatening his heart so that immediate danger has been averted.’

‘How long will he be unconscious Doctor? Only Billy can recognize his attacker.’

‘Depends; depends on how healthy he is and how we can avert any hemorrhage threat in his brain. I’d say he’ll be in an induced coma for at least a week; talk to me then.’

‘Thanks; will you talk to his people? They’re all waiting outside for news and they’ll be asking questions that I can’t, and shouldn’t answer.’

‘No, leave it to me; sadly we’re used to this kind of thing.’

♂♂

Once again they were frustrated; another dead end. The forensic people were able to extract a DNA profile from urine and the phlegm on Billy’s face. But it was useless until Billy could identify his assailant; and Billy was still in an induced coma. A general appeal went out for anybody who had any knowledge of the attack to come forward. No one did.

Back in the temporary command room, Fitzpatrick vented his frustration by throwing a book at the incident board; Gloria, (ducking to avoid the projectile) suppressed a smile at the show of childish irritation.

‘What’s happening about the phone tap on Bro. Mike’s phone? At least that’s one positive lead we can follow.’

‘Yes, yes; thanks! I forgot about that. Yes; I’ve been trying to concentrate on the Billy Yorta assault and clean forgot about our dear Bro. Mike. Yes; the approval came through yesterday.’

‘Well . . .’

‘I’ll get the tech boys to set it up by tonight. It may not lead anywhere but you never know what might come out of the tap; but let’s not get our hopes up . . . this despicable bastard is one cool cookie and my bet is he’ll play his cards close to his chest.’

‘Hey boss, don’t go sounding so negative. All through this investigation when we think we’ve come up against a brick wall something comes along to keep the investigation ticking over. Let’s see what this bullyboy does. Say, what’s the decision on Bro. Peter? Have you talked to the Public prosecutor yet?’

‘Oh yes; sorry, I forgot to tell you. I need a kick up the arse. Yes I had a call from Melbourne; they’ll offer him a conviction but with a suspended sentence of five years. But he must come through and spill what he knows about the pedophile ring and their activities; he’ll be asked to name names and if he lies or omits valuable info, the sentence will commence in Loddon correction Centre.’

‘Ok; that’s near Bendigo isn’t it?’

♂♂

. . . (Click) . . . (Click) . . . ‘Hello, Brother Mike speaking.’

‘I was expecting you to call; I want to know why it was necessary to bash the abbo kid up . . . (angry and loud) are you out of your fucking mind! He’s just a kid for Christ sake; I would’ve thought that even you and your cronies wouldn’t stoop so low as to . . .’

‘Shut the fuck up! Shut up you ignorant bastard . . . don’t use the lords name in vain in my presence; swear as much as you like but I’ll draw the line at using the lord’s name in such a manner . . .’

‘Jesus . . . (sounding derogatory) aren’t we being petty. It’s all right to bash up young kids to near death but you can’t use yer bloody Christian god’s name. You lot make me sick. We’ve all known about the kids’ activities haven’t we? It makes me laugh; the kids regard your lot as their best customers, and then you go and spoil it for everybody by maiming one of the nicest darkies I’ve ever known. You know the kid had a great footy career ahead, but now thanks to you he’s gonna be lucky to walk again. (Sneering) Arseholes!’

‘You’re just a common ill-mannered blowhard sergeant. . .’

Sergeant! Both Fitzpatrick and Gloria exchanged looks of complete surprise. Sergeant! Sergeant Cree?

‘. . . and I find you a very unpleasant human being. No; you shut up! Don’t interject; let me have a say for once. For your information, it wasn’t any of my people here who bashed the kid up. Think what you want but I’m telling you it wasn’t any of the people here who did the kid in. It’s more like the thugs you associate with who’d do something so brutal. Ok; we’re hypocrites when it comes to sex activities, but we’ve never . . . I repeat never victimized anyone.’

Silence.

‘Alright, (conciliatory) alright, if it wasn’t the clergy who done him in . . . then who?’

‘Don’t know! You’re a copper; you’ve got the means to investigate . . . we haven’t’

‘Ummm . . . I’ve been taken off the case, so I don’t know what that smug fuck-whit from Melbourne and that bitch Lesbo are doing. But the whole shebang is about to go belly up. That weak bastard of yours, Brother Peter is copping a plea in exchange for testifying about our activities . . .

‘Ours! Our activities’ Fitzpatrick and Gloria were riveted; Cree was up to his neck in the mess.

. . . Whoever silenced Brother Simon should have fucked Brother Peter as well.’

‘I wish you could refrain from foul language.’

‘Oh do you! And I wish I hadn’t listened to you when you came and asked for protection nearly three years ago. At that time I was entirely sympathetic to your suggestion, because I agreed it was wrong for the Church to deny anybody sexual relief, and (laughing) I didn’t know you’re a bunch of homo’s.’

‘So, what’s your point? My needs are purely heterosexual, but you have to admit sergeant that gay people give you police less trouble then straights do. Anyway, we’re off the point. I know my people didn’t kill Brother Simon and if you say the police didn’t then who; who killed Brother Simon?’

‘Who indeed; perhaps he was just a wrong person in a wrong place at the wrong time. These tragic instances do happen. But I’ve been removed from the investigation so my info is via the grapevine .That’s why I called you to tell that your Brother Peter is about to spill his guts out and we can’t do anything about it . . . short of silencing him; and that ain’t gonna happen. Just be prepared.’

‘Well; thanks for the heads up. (Earnestly) I really do appreciate the warning. (Sigh) I’ll have to inform the Headmaster about the whole mess and that’s not something to look forward too.

♂♂

Jeff toyed with his beer, letting the sounds of the RSL swirl around him. He was in a very dismal place; a very bad dark place. He left work for lunch and then stayed on at the club; drinking and thinking and worrying and feeling hopeless. He was in love; desperately in love. Love was a new emotion to Jeffry; he had never known a parents love and although his aunt Betty had tried to love him, it wasn’t the same as a mother’s love. And he definitely didn’t love Cindy; that was an arrangement that disguised his homosexuality.

Kenny, Kenny, Kenny; where are you. It’s been three days now and not a word. I miss you; I’m scared you won’t come back. Even being HIV positive, Rickie has more to offer than me. They’re probably having sex, protected sex right now; just the thought of what they may be doing is driving me mad. Kenny! Where are you Kenny; where are you. Why don’t you call? You know about Billy; you should be here with us, with me. We should be sharing our grief for the battered body of that beautiful young man.

Yeah, you say you love me. Huh! Words just words. All that diseased piece of shit has to do is call and you come running. I hope that you enjoy getting off with him . . . no, no, no! I shouldn’t be thinking like this. I shouldn’t; but I can’t help it. I can’t help it. I wish I could find a little dark corner to hide.

As the afternoon wore on and he sank deeper in the mire of wretchedness, Jeff realized he needed more money; but he’d left his ATM card at home. Through his foggy brain he decided to go home, collect his card, and then head over to the Shearers. But he was well over the limit and would have to drive carefully. But even being caught and sent to jail had an appeal. There would be plenty of sex; yes, even the danger of Aids in jail, and it would break the misery of his present despair.

When he arrived home he fancied he heard sounds coming from upstairs. Even in his befuddled state he realized that something was wrong and he slowly and quietly climbed the stairs to their sleeping quarters. As he got closer the sounds became guttural interspaced with little squeals. A feeling of dread overcame him as he quietly opened his bedroom door and saw . . .

An ugly hairy bum thrusting enthusiastically into . . . Cindy, his wife who was squealing with passion at each bestial thrust. Then, becoming aware of an intrusion the head attached to the hairy bum ravaging his wife turned and . . . and . . . and he looked into the face of his brother . . . Laurie!

For one insane moment three people formed a tabloid of guilt, betrayal, and contempt. Cindy was the first to recover with . . .

‘Oh Jeffry, Jeffry I’m sorry, sorry; you . . . you weren’t supposed to come home until . . .’

Something snapped inside Jeff. There is a limit to the amount of despair the brain can withstand and Jeffry had reached his. One by one his senses closed down until he was, and became, an emotional shell; and was made absolute by the sneering laughter that emanated from his brother.

But he didn’t hear his brother’s sneering laughter or his wife’s pleas for forgiveness; he went back down the stairs and climbed into his car.

By some instinct he drove out to the edge of town where a long, straight stretch of highway disappeared into the distance.

Jeffry put his foot down hard on the accelerator, and . . . faster . . . faster . . . faster . . .