THEO
MORNING CONFESSION HOUR was unattended. I sat in the booth with a flashlight, reading the police file. Rain pinged against the stained glass. Pearl came into the church, lit a candle, said a prayer, then left, leaving the sugary smell of peach cobbler behind. I was hungry.
The file was enlightening. Hansel had been tortured as a child. His father, a disturbed and twisted individual, used religion to reign his dark kingdom. A man like that does a lot of damage, more than most because his victims believe he has the authority of God behind his perverted words and deeds, and therefore give him dominion over their lives. Especially a child. Don’t know what all went on, but do know he hurt young Genghis; planted a poisonous thorn deep inside him. And what I know about that is hurt children grow up and hurt things, animals, and other children trying to extricate that malicious thorn. By Genghis Hansel’s age, thirty-eight, there’s no help to offer. I should have considered salvation but believed otherwise—like Bud said, he’s a rabid dog. He just needs to be put out of his pain.
The file had pages of notes, suspicions, leads, disturbing coincidences, but no evidence. The officers across the country who had compiled the information had no doubt that Hansel was a child molester at least, murderer at worst. No doubt, but no evidence, and our justice system demanded evidence. However, in the absence of proof, doing what’s just may demand something different altogether.
Back at home I wrapped my hands, boxed for thirty, tossed my knife at Solomon’s board twenty times—ten for exercise, ten for aim. I loaded both of Mamaí’s rifles and set them in the corner next to where my black robes hung in the closet with my Army jacket and fatigues.
For the first year home I had been comfortable at Saint Patrick’s wearing the robes that separated me from the people. But here, in this village, my home, we’re different from the rest of the world—in an orbit all our own. Here, I’m also a Rounder. No black robes, white collars, or tight confession booths would ever change that.