A Dark Secret Past

 

                Completely out of character, Roger bought a lottery ticket with the idea in mind that “someone has to win”, after dinner he sat down in front of his laptop and began searching for the winning numbers to realize that he held the winning numbers in his hand. “Wow, what am I going to do with two million dollars?” he wondered.

               “I’ve always wanted a Victorian type mansion, now that dream seems like a possibility, time to do some searching around the nation for a home that I can purchase and remodel,” he thought. After spending a few minutes scouring the internet, he found a real estate agent that specialized in these types of homes and gave her a phone call to learn that an abandoned orphanage was for sale outside of a small town in Georgia. After speaking with the agent for a few minutes, the decision was made to fly down, meet the agent at her office and they would drive together to view the building which sat on ten acres and was surrounded by hundreds of acres of forest.

               The next day, he contacted the lottery office, received his money, deposited it into his bank account, and bought a plane ticket to fly to Georgia to meet the agent and view the property. Tingling with excitement when he landed at the nearest international airport, he ordered an Uber to arrive at his hotel to then check in, and enjoy a hot meal at the restaurant connected to the hotel.

               Now with a full stomach, he returned to his room, checked his watch and realized that he had less than two hours to travel to the real estate agency. He set his alarm to enjoy a one-hour nap, placed an order for another Uber and waited outside the hotel entrance for his ride to arrive. Upon entering the real estate office, he was invited into the agent’s private office to look at photos and details of the property. “Wow, this looks great,” he said, “how long will it take for us to drive out there?”

               “It is about a thirty-minute drive to the property,” she said, “the setting is beautiful but the building is in need of a great deal of restoration. When we arrive, we can walk through every room and the ten acres so you have a good feel and vision of what is needed.”

               “Okay then,” he said, “let’s get going right away, I have wanted the opportunity to buy and restore a Victorian type home for several years now. How long has the building been vacant?”

               “As you saw from the listing, it was formerly an orphanage and was abandoned about fifty-five years ago when the last children were adopted out,” she said, “the sale price is one hundred and twenty-nine thousand, I would guess you’ll need about double that to completely remodel the building.”

               Roger and the agent exited the agency through the back door, climbed into her car and began the thirty-minute drive through what seemed to be an endless forest. They reached the driveway and drove for another ten minutes through more forest to then stop in front of a terribly dilapidated building. Roger stepped out of the car and carefully scanned over the front of the building, making mental notes about what needed to be done to the exterior and together they walked around the building, giving him the opportunity to write down what he observed.

               Upon returning to the front door, the agent opened the lock box, unlocked the door and they entered the dark, dusty, and foul-smelling building to see no furniture, no appliances, and no curtains. Roger pulled out a notebook and began sketching the size, shape and layout of the interior to also jot down what needed to be repaired or replaced. They drifted through each room on the main floor and ascended the stairs to the second floor as he continued to sketch and take notes.

               “Am I correct in understanding that there is a basement here?” he asked.

               “Yes, there is a basement,” she said, “but the only entrance is from the outside in the back. Let’s be very thorough as we work through the main floor and the second floor. I wanted to mention that there are some rooms in the basement that are locked, which prevents us from viewing them.”

               “Okay, I believe I’ve thoroughly sketched out both floors and have made notes regarding what needs to be repaired or replaced, so let’s go outside and enter the basement, this is a very large building, I am feeling very positive about making this purchase,” he said.

               They descended the stairs, entered the kitchen, and exited through the rear door to find the cellar door entrance to begin their descent below ground. Pulling a small flashlight from his pocket, they trudged down the stairs and drifted through the open space of the basement to find a great deal of abandoned junk, broken furniture, rusty bedframes and rusty cribs. “Wow, this is crazy,” he said, “who currently owns this property?”

               “Right now, the state of Georgia is the current owner,” she said, “considering the size of the home and the amount of property included, if you make a full price offer, I am certain that they will accept it. I am excited to see the restoration work you will do on this building; it has a great deal of potential to be a beautiful home.”

               Roger sketched another outline of the basement placing question marks inside the rooms they were unable to view. “Okay, this is great,” he said, “I would like to walk around the property and see the forest, the landscape, and the wildlife.” After spending thirty minutes walking the property, they returned to the agent’s car and drove back to the office to begin the paperwork and make a full price offer. “Very good, Roger,” she said, “I’ll send the offer right now and I can provide you some names of contractors who can give you bids for the work that needs to be done.”

               “Excellent,” Roger said, “that question has been plaguing me since I first arrived, thank you for providing those names. Do you have any idea how quickly the seller will respond? I will be in town through tomorrow afternoon.”

               “Yes, like I said before, because it is a full price offer, they should respond immediately,” she said. “I have your phone number; I can give you a ride back to your hotel and I’ll call you as soon as they respond.”

               “If they accept my offer, I can always stay another day and meet with the contractors before I fly back home to the west coast,” he said. The agent disappeared down the hallway, returned smiling, and shook his hand, suggesting that now would be a good time to take him back to his hotel. As they drove the few minutes, Roger noticed a coffee kiosk only two blocks from the hotel. The agent parked immediately in front of the main entrance, he climbed out, thanked her for the ride, and said, “talk to you soon.”

               He entered the foyer, took the elevator to his room, flopped back on his bed and reviewed his sketches and notes, feeling excited and thrilled about this new chapter in his life. Vigorously rubbing his face, he took the elevator down to the main floor and walked the two blocks to purchase himself a coffee. Struggling to make a decision about what flavor to add to his hot drink, he placed his order, left a generous tip, slipped outside and enjoyed sitting in the warm sun and gentle breeze.

               He finished his caffeinated drink, and slowly walked back to the hotel to once again review his notes. Three hours passed and he received a phone call from the agent, informing him that the state of Georgia accepted his full price offer. “That is excellent news,” he said, “I’ll rent a car and stop by your office in a few minutes to sign the necessary paperwork.”

               “Very good, I’ll see you soon,” she said. “I’ll have the names and phone numbers of the contractors we discussed earlier.” Roger hung up the phone, began skimming the internet for the closest car rental agency, made the call and walked the six blocks to retrieve his reserved vehicle.

               With his mind and heart in a swirl of excitement and thrill, he drove to the real estate agency, parked nearby, walked in the front door and asked for a few minutes with his agent. “Yes, sir, give me a minute and I’ll call her to let her know that you are here,” the receptionist said.

               Within a few minutes, the agent invited him back into her office and presented him with a stack of papers to sign. “Also,” she said, “here are the contractors and their phone numbers. I would strongly recommend that you call them today and hopefully they can meet you tomorrow to review the work that needs to be done.”

               “Excellent, thank you so much,” he said as he signed his name forty-seven times on the stack of documents. The agent thanked him for making contact and for closing the deal so quickly, I’ll send off these documents to the current owner so that they know the deal is closed. I will also retrieve the keys for the building and provide the names of the power company, the garbage company, and the water company so you can take care of setting up those accounts.

               Within fifteen minutes the agent returned, confirming that the documents had been sent to the former owner and provided him with the aforementioned information and the keys. He and she shook hands, Roger returned to his hotel and began making phone calls to the contractors to set up times to meet to receive bids for the necessary work.

               The following morning, he arrived thirty minutes before the agreed upon time to give himself time to once again review the entire building. “I am so curious to see the locked rooms in the basement and hopefully not discover anything terrible or dangerous,” he thought.

               He spent twenty-five minutes re-walking through all three floors, reminding himself of all that needed to be repaired or replaced. He returned to the front porch and waited for the first contractor to arrive. They began with a bid for a new roof and new windows.  The two men shook hands and Roger watched the contractor drive away, to then wait for another thirty minutes for the second contractor to arrive.

               “Oh, yeah, let’s take a look at those locked rooms,” he said to himself. He hurried outside, descended into the basement through the cellar door, unlocked the first room, pushed his way through a great amount of debris to find that there were chains and shackles on one wall, and a pile of human bones in a far corner, to be assaulted by an overpowering stench of something dead.

               He backed out of the first room, unlocked the second room to find nothing but a few boxes of black and white photos, he slipped on his gloves and began thumbing through the photos to realize that the photos were of children being abused, causing a feeling of vomit to rise in his throat. “Wow, this is terrible,” he thought, “I need to get back upstairs and meet with the next contractor and make some phone calls to the FBI about what I’ve found.”

               The second contractor arrived and they discussed the restoration of woodwork, the restoration of the wood floors, and the restoration of all the interior doors. The two men shook hands, he received the paperwork, and he watched the second contractor depart. Roger glanced at his watch to understand that he had at least an hour before the third contractor would meet with him.

               “Okay, time for that phone call,” he said to himself as he searched for the phone number for the FBI. “Hello,” he said, “I just purchased a building in southern Georgia, a building that was formerly an orphanage and I discovered some very troubling devices and photos in the basement, can you please send a team of agents so we can discuss what to do about this?”

               “Yes, sir, of course, please tell me the address, so our agents can arrive as soon as possible,” she said.

               As he hung up the phone, the third contractor arrived and they walked through the first and second floor to discuss electrical work, plumbing work, hanging wallpaper, and painting. The contractor sat down, filled out the forms and presented them to Roger. The two men shook hands, Roger said he would be in contact and waved as the third contractor departed.

               Another hour passed and three vehicles appeared in front of his new residence, he walked out onto the porch, welcomed the FBI agents and invited them to follow him into the basement to show them what he discovered. Many photographs were taken; the boxes of photos were confiscated and placed into one of the vehicles.

               “Thank you for calling us, sir,” one of the agents said, “these are truly disturbing devices and photos, we will do all we can to determine what took place here, and who was responsible for this deviant activity.”

               “I wanted to clarify that when I purchased the building, I was told that the current owner was the state of Georgia, so hopefully that will make your research work that much easier,” he said, “seeing photos like this literally made me want to vomit. I genuinely hope you can find those who are responsible for this abuse. I hope these children have recovered and get the help they need to live normal lives.”

               “Thank you for sharing that,” the agent said, “we will contact you if we need any more information but now that we have taken plenty of photographs and have confiscated the boxes of photos, we are definitely in a good position to move forward and convict those responsible for this.”

               Roger stood on his front porch and watched the three FBI vehicles leave his property. He sat down in the sunshine, reviewed the three bids from the three contractors and began to wonder about how to proceed with this work of restoration. “Wow, it is starting to get dark already,” he thought, “I need to return this car, get to the hotel, check out and catch my flight home, then I can make some phone calls to schedule this work to be done.”

               Having completed his required tasks, he took the four-hour flight home, drove to his current home, parked in his garage, prepared a quick, easy meal to then relax for a few days. He slept well that evening, made three phone calls the next morning, scheduled a time for all three contractors to begin their work, requested vacation time, and purchased airline tickets to return to Georgia at the right time to oversee the work to be completed.

               He arrived at his newly purchased residence after settling into his hotel and was thrilled to see the contractors beginning their work, new roof, new windows, restored woodwork, restored floors, restored interior doors, fresh paint, new wallpaper, and updated plumbing and electrical. After a full week of work, he set up his accounts with the power company, the water company, and the garbage company, giving him time to carry the junk out of the basement to be thrown into a large dumpster that had been delivered that day.

               Now that he lived across the country from his current place of employment, he requested permission to work remotely as he truly loved his job, his co-workers, and his glorious, beautiful new home. The thought of the abuse that had taken place in this building made him feel ill and troubled at the pain and humiliation the children underwent at some time in the recent past.

               Now that the restoration work was complete, he contacted a real estate agent in his home town, listed his house for sale, contacted a moving company to gather all of his things to be delivered to his new home. Standing alone in the silence of a four-thousand square foot house, he marveled at how beautiful the building had become, now clean, bright, shiny, and comfortable.

               He contacted the local agent, invited her to come see the completed work and when she arrived, he thanked her for her hard work and informed her that he would be selling his current home and bringing all of his belongings here within the next few days. They walked through the main floor and the second floor and he watched her drive away, giving him the opportunity to take a flight home to pack up his belongings, wait for the moving company to arrive, to load everything, and drive it across the country to his new residence.

               As was expected, he arrived an hour before the moving company, and watched as everything was carried inside and placed in the appropriate rooms. “Alrighty then,” he said, “set up the bathroom first, then the kitchen, then the bedroom, and then the rest of the house, wow, this is really amazing, everything is so quiet, so big, and so peaceful. I guess I’m not really in a hurry, I can take my time with what needs to be done first.”

               In awe of the beauty of his main floor and second floor, the ugliness and the abuse that took place in the basement still haunted him. “I wonder if the FBI will be calling me at some point? I don’t think I’ll need to do anything in the basement because I have plenty of space on the main floor and the second floor. I don’t recall seeing any neighbors close by, I wonder if anyone will approach me now that I’ve restored everything and moved in?”

               The crunching of tires on gravel caught his attention, prompting him to step onto the front porch to see a single FBI vehicle park in front of his house. Two agents emerged from the vehicle, greeted him, and clarified that they needed to take a few more photos in the basement.

               “Yes, of course,” he answered, “I have completely remodeled the main floor and the second floor, but have done nothing in the basement other than throw away all of the junk and debris. Will you be removing the human bones from the one room, I would feel a lot better if they were not there any longer.”

               “We will take many photos and we will remove the bones,” one of the agents said. “I wanted to clarify that we have found those responsible for the abuse of these children, four of them have since died and two of them have been arrested and put into prison. From what we have learned, when they finally closed down this orphanage, it was not because the last few children were adopted out, instead they were sold to child traffickers, leaving this building with no purpose.”

               Sickened at the thought of someone selling a child to be trafficked to complete strangers to be abused made him rage within. “Oh,” he thought, “I need to update the sign out front so that the property is recognized as a private residence, also I need to install a few surveillance cameras around the property.” He bought a can of paint and some sandpaper while he was in town and immediately started working on updating the sign. When the work was complete, he hurried inside and placed an order for surveillance cameras to be delivered as soon as possible.

               Within three days the package arrived on his front porch and he immediately got to work, choosing to view the front porch, the back door, and a high view of the front driveway, feeding all three video feeds into a spare laptop to be recorded and stored online. Satisfied with the work he completed that day, he quickly put together a dinner of ramen noodles, fresh fruit, and an ice-cold beer. As he finished his dinner, he heard tires crunching on the gravel in front of his house and within two minutes someone knocked on his door. He opened the door to see a middle-aged man with a handful of cash.

               “Hello,” the man said, “I was given this address and was told that there is a child here that I could buy for several hours and then return when I am done with her.”

               “Sorry, no,” Roger said, “this property is now a private residence, you received very old information that is no longer relevant.” As the man walked away, Roger memorized the car and the license plate number, locked the door behind him, and placed a phone call to the FBI describing the interaction that just took place, as well as providing a description of the car, the license number and a description of the man. “I just installed surveillance cameras so all of this can be verified, if you send an agent to my home, I can provide all the details so that this person can be arrested and taken out of public life.”

               Late afternoon the next day, an FBI vehicle approached his home, thanked him for the phone call and assured him that they would aggressively pursue this individual and would keep him updated on their progress. After providing the video feed to the FBI agent, the two men shook hands and Roger watched the car drive away.

               One week later, Roger received a phone call from the FBI informing him that the person in question had been arrested and when they took possession of his computer equipment, they uncovered a massive collection of child pornography and a long list of others who had been purchasing the material from the offender, which resulted in over two hundred more arrests across the country.

               Two days after the phone call, Roger received another FBI agent visit and was passionately thanked for his thoughtfulness and attention to detail. “Because of your good work, we were able to shut down a massive child abuse ring, rescue many children, and arrest a large number of very bad people,” the agent said, “please stay in contact if anyone else approaches you as this man did.”

               “Yes, of course,” Roger said, “people like that need to be removed from the public and punished in a most extreme way.”

               “Thank you for being a good citizen of the United States,” the agent said, “I also wanted to let you know that when we arrested the other two hundred people associated with this man, we also gathered many more names and destroyed many terabytes of child abuse videos. Thank you for your good work, I need to be going now. We at the FBI are so thankful for people like you who are willing to step up and do the right thing.”

Suspended and Confined

            Father Andrew was the third priest at the largest Roman congregation in the city of Boston, which had been established in 1875 and could easily seat almost two thousand people. He had been in this position of authority for approximately five years until allegations began to be made that he was interacting with young children in a manner that made many of the men in the congregation angry.

               It wasn’t until the tenth allegation was made to those in authority of all the Roman churches on the East Coast that he was removed from his role and relocated to a position of authority at an orphanage further south. He found himself both excited and disappointed that he was losing his position as a priest in Boston, for he had developed good relationships with many of the families in the congregation. His excitement came from the potential for access to many children with whom he could interact without anyone interfering in his plans for interaction.

               The orphanage had been without actual leadership for about six months, and was still operating with ten adults overseeing the facility, including nurses, teachers, janitors, and counselors. He was given four days to gather his belongings, communicate the loss of his position as third priest, and move to the orphanage to begin his role of leadership. At the beginning of the fourth day, he began his drive further south and met with those who had continued working to keep the orphanage functioning.

               They were excited to have someone with actual authority in place, they shared that the archdiocese had sent a letter announcing his arrival. They showed him to his apartment, his own private bath, gave him a tour of the facilities, and introduced him to the thirty-five children that currently lived at the orphanage. He and the thirty-five children met in the gymnasium, they all sat on the floor, he introduced himself, and he realized that the children all ranged in age from five years to eleven years.

               After speaking with the children as a group, he communicated his desire to meet with each child one at a time, to learn about them, what they enjoyed, and to understand their dreams for the future. By the end of the second day, he settled into his apartment, organized his office, and began receiving children one at a time to come to understand each one. Each child was given twenty minutes to speak with Father Andrew, as each child entered his office, he welcomed them to sit on his lap and tell him about themselves.

               Father Andrew met with his secretary to schedule visiting time with each child over a period of three days. After each child finished telling him about themselves, he took a photo with them, he watched the child leave his office, giving him ten minutes to write down what they had communicated. The third day of meetings came to an end and he spent the next week carefully reading over his notes, looking at their photos, and made the effort to eat lunch with the group of children each day. Every midday meal was a time of laughter, fun, and interaction, where he made the effort to use their names so that they would feel special and loved.

               After three weeks as the priest in charge of the orphanage, he communicated to the nurses that he would be the one who would be bathing the children every other day, because he said that he wanted them to know that he truly cared for them and wanted to hear more about each child as they moved from one day to the next. They completed their week; he led the Mass for the children and the ten adults at the orphanage. Each Sunday evening, he would hear confessions, and hand out penances for those who had particularly grievous sins and the next Monday afternoon came around, which was the time that he would take on his newly imposed responsibility.

               He had his secretary create a schedule for bath time for all of the children, allotting twenty minutes for each child. Dinner was finished on Monday evening, and he met with the first child for bath time, he took the first child, a little girl of the age of nine into the bathroom, locked the door behind them, undressed the child, turned on the shower and started with washing her hair and then began washing her little body with an abundant amount of soap. After rinsing the child clean, he wiped off the excess water with his bare hands, helped her step out of the bathtub and dried her off.

               “Okay, Maggie,” he said, “we’re going to play a game right now. I need you to lie down on your back.” The little girl looked up at him with her large eyes and obeyed his command. He lifted her knees up and spent the remaining few minutes abusing the little girl as Maggie simply laid there motionless with her eyes closed.

               “You did very well today, Maggie,” he said. “Okay, now we need to put on your pajamas so you can go to bed for the evening, I’ll walk you to your room and tuck you in. We’ll do this again in a few days. I hope you sleep well.”

               After helping Maggie climb into her bed, he kissed her on the forehead, and hurried back to the bathroom to find that the next child was waiting for him with one of the nurses. He thanked the nurse for being prompt and asked her to return in twenty minutes to return the next child to her room and then bring the third child. In the same pattern as with Maggie, the next child was an eight-year-old girl named Agatha, they entered the bathroom, he undressed the child, helped her into the bathtub, washed her hair, and then began washing down her little body with an abundant amount of soap. After rinsing the child clean, he wiped off the excess water with his bare hands, helped her step out of the bathtub and dried her off.

               He then instructed Agatha to lie down on the floor and he proceeded to abuse the little girl for the remaining few minutes. “Okay, Agatha, stand up and now it is time to put on your pajamas and the nurse will take you to your room to sleep for the evening. You did very well today, I hope you sleep well. Remember what we do in here is our secret, do not tell anyone what we did together in here.”

               This pattern of bathing and abusive interaction continued every day for the next six months, leaving Father Andrew thrilled and excited at this wonderful opportunity that had been given to him now that he was no longer connected to the congregation in Boston. It was on the following Wednesday that a letter from the East Coast Roman archdiocese arrived, communicating that he was being removed from his role of leadership at the orphanage. Two hours later, three unmarked black Suburban’s pulled into the orphanage parking lot, accompanied by two police cars. The facility was surrounded by at least twelve men in black suits with drawn weapons and within ten minutes of their arrival, Father Andrew was led out of the building in handcuffs with multiple charges of sexual assault upon minors named against him.

               Two weeks later after spending time in the local police station lockup, he found himself sitting in court, facing a judge, to hear that he was now suspended from all religious activity and leadership and would be spending the next forty years in prison for his crimes against children. The judge placed a one-million-dollar bail upon him, knowing that a dollar amount of that size would be impossible to pay. The next day, Andrew found himself in the nearest prison surrounded by very angry fellow inmates.

               Every day he received a beating from three fellow inmates shortly after the midday meal. With each punch and with each kick, he was reminded that there is no mercy for anyone who abuses a child. After three months of daily beatings, he wrote a letter to the warden of the prison, begging to be placed in solitary confinement, and explaining that he was being beaten every day for his crimes.

               Three days later, he received a letter from the warden explaining that he would not be allowed to escape into solitary confinement, because everyone involved believed that he needed to suffer for his crimes against innocent children. He could feel himself growing older, weaker, and falling deeper into pain every day. By this time most of his teeth had been knocked out of his mouth, several ribs had been broken, and his testicles were being kicked at least six times every day.

               Two days later he received a notice that he had a visitor and needed to report to the first available interrogation room. Confused and curious, he climbed from his bed walked the distance to the main exit and was led to interrogation room number three. He walked in to meet an elderly man wearing clerical garb. The man introduced himself as the bishop of the Roman churches on the East coast. “Andrew, when we transferred you away from the congregation in Boston, we hoped that you would do the right thing,” he said, “our hope was that you would learn from your previous mistakes and sins. Needless to say, we were greatly disappointed when you choose to continue your practice of taking advantage of children and now here you are.”

               “Oh, my goodness,” Andrew said, “I was surprised when you transferred me into a situation like that, I suspected that this was some sort of test upon me, the temptation was far too great.”

               “We placed hidden surveillance cameras inside the orphanage and we have spoken to many of the children that you were abusing,” the bishop said, “you need to understand that your actions have serious damaging effects upon the hearts and minds of children, your level of selfishness and love for pleasure are absolutely reprehensible. There is something else you need to know and understand Andrew, the twelve little girls that you abused during your time at the orphanage all committed suicide when they reached their later teen years and they all left similar notes explaining their hopeless situations. To summarize their message, all of them basically said the same thing. They said that ‘in the time that Father Andrew was leading the orphanage, he abused me during bath time, he took my joy and my innocence, and left me feeling like a mere object to be used for his pleasure.’ Alright, our short visit is now over, go back to your cell.”

               The lunch alarm sounded as Andrew lay on his cot, far too weak to rise to his feet and make the journey to the lunch room. He sat up on the edge of his thin mattress and began coughing up blood with blurry vision and pain through every inch of his body. In less than an hour, his cellmate returned to their cell, gave him an apple, a handful of carrots, and carton of milk.

               “Don’t make the mistake of thinking that I am doing this because I like you,” he said, “you are a sick, foolish, corrupt old man and you need to have some food so you don’t die. Remember, everyone here hates you, hates what you have done to innocent children and everyone will be thrilled when you finally expire. I hope you understand the feeling of helplessness right now. This is how these children felt when you were taking advantage of them.”

               Andrew’s cellmate woke up the next morning to find an immobile and silent cellmate after hopping down from his top bunk, the man checked for Andrew’s pulse to find that there was no sign of life. The breakfast alarm was sounded, prompting his cellmate to leave the cell and find the nearest guard to inform him that his cellmate Andrew appeared to be dead when he woke up this morning.

Sitting down with four of his closest friends, he informed them that Andrew had expired during the night, and was ultimately pleased that the sick bastard was finally gone. “Someone who will commit crimes like that does not deserve to live after inflicting that kind of abuse on innocent children,” he said, “the good news is that I’ll have a different cellmate now.” Everyone finished their morning meal and watched as the EMT’s wheeled Andrew’s lifeless corpse out of the building.

“You can know that his victims and their relatives will be glad to know that he finally expired,” someone said, “this is the ultimate justice and a happy ending.” Because Andrew had no one in his life to gather his few belongings, everything that remained in his cell was dispersed among the other inmates. “From what I’ve been told, when someone dies without any known relatives, the state will incinerate the body and scatter the ashes into the ocean,” another inmate said, “thankfully now, his victims and their relatives will be consoled knowing that he is gone without the opportunity to be released to commit further crimes.”

Protection 101 Part Two

 

            Arthur was laying on his couch and thinking about the great work he and his friends had accomplished at the warehouse but a small concern rose in his mind regarding the evidence left behind, possible fingerprints, and if anyone came across the room or the bodies they had buried inside the warehouse. “Phew, we need to do something to make sure that everything we did there cannot be traced back to any of us,” he thought, “time for a phone call to Jonathan.”

               He sat up, retrieved his cellphone from the coffee table to his immediate right, hit speed dial to connect with Jonathan. After two rings, Jonathan answered with a sound of excitement and concern, “Hey Arthur, what’s going on with you? Did you find more pedophiles who will be released soon?”

               “Hi Jonathan, no I have not,” Arthur answered, “I check my sources every few days and it will be at least six months before any criminals like this will be released. I was laying here thinking about the work we did at the warehouse and I came up with the idea of installing surveillance cameras there in case anyone comes across the room or the bodies we buried.”

               “Oh, yes, that is a good idea,” Jonathan answered, “I’ll make some phone calls and see if we can raise some money to buy that equipment, I’ll get on that right away and let you know what is decided in my conversations with the other guys. This might take a couple of days of dialog.”

               Two more days passed and Arthur continued to be troubled by the thought about their work at the warehouse, concerned that their involvement could be exposed, until Jonathan finally called him back with confirmation that everyone agreed with his concerns, and that money had been raised to purchase the surveillance equipment. “That is awesome to hear,” Arthur said, “you and I need to get together as soon as possible, buy the equipment and get it installed, I can connect the video feed to a cellphone that we can leave at the warehouse to provide constant video feedback.”

               “Let’s get together tonight after dinner,” Jonathan said, “I have the money so we can buy what is needed, travel over to the warehouse, get everything installed, and take care of our concerns about exposure.”

               “That would be perfect,” Arthur said, “pick me up at six-thirty, that’ll give us enough time to buy what we need and get it installed in the warehouse.” Arthur finished his dinner by six o’clock, giving him time to think through the details of setting up the equipment, and thirty minutes later Jonathan knocked on his door. The two men climbed into Jonathan’s car, drove to an electronics store, quickly finding what they needed, paid for the equipment and drove across town to the abandoned warehouse, to thankfully find it empty and void of activity.

               While it was still light out, Arthur installed one surveillance camera in the torture room and a second in the warehouse overlooking the area where they had buried the bodies. The cameras were carefully placed, intentionally out of view, the wiring was run from both cameras to the router which fed the two video feeds into the cellphone and after a few minutes Arthur confirmed that the video feeds were fully functional.

               Jonathan parked his car near the main entrance to Arthur’s apartment building. “The cameras are set up to record whenever there is any motion or activity,” Arthur said, “I’ll let you know if there is any activity, let’s hope that no one stumbles across our previous work.” Arthur hurried into his apartment, turned on the video feeds to a separate laptop to happily see no activity.

               At eight o’clock the next evening, his laptop released a ding, pulling him away from the evening news to see that a group of eight middle-aged men had entered the warehouse with a college age girl and a college age young man. Arthur then placed a phone call to Jonathan, urging him to hurry over, pick him up and make a trip to the warehouse because someone was currently making use of the space.

               Jonathan quickly dropped what he was doing, drove as fast as he could to retrieve Arthur, to hurry across town to the abandoned warehouse to enter through a rear door and from a position of obscurity, they watched as the men became violent with the girl and the young man. Three of the older men held cellphones and began recording what hoped would soon take place.

               The young man approached the college age girl and began speaking to her. “Miss, I am sorry that you are going through this,” he said, “I don’t know who these men are, they grabbed me off of the sidewalk and I presume they abducted you as well?” Through uncontrolled tears and sobs, the girl confirmed his suspicions.

               “After they abducted me,” he said, “they gave me two options, my first choice was to remove all of your clothing and rape you while they recorded the event and also have it live streamed. The second option they gave me was that they would chain me to a nearby wall, and force me to watch all eight of them gang rape you with extreme violence. I chose the first but be assured that I will be gentle, I have never been with a woman before, so I will be considerate of your physical and mental wellbeing.”

                The girl stood up, gave the young man a hug and thanked him for being kind and considerate. “Go ahead and get started,” she said, “please don’t climax inside of me, I cannot become pregnant at this time, that would be a horrible situation.”

               “Yes, of course,” he said, “I will be gentle and careful with you. I will keep my attention on any opportunity for us to escape this terrible situation, there is always a possibility that someone will come along to assist us.”

               Jonathan and Arthur slipped on their ski masks and picked up their baseball bats to silently creep across the warehouse toward the eight men surrounding the college girl and young man. With sudden and aggressive swings, they began breaking bones to watch the cellphones drop to the floor, as the men dropped one by one, Jonathan hurried toward the frightened couple and assured them that they were there to help them escape. “I’ll call the police right now,” he said, “we’ll do our best to stay in contact with both you to make sure that you’re doing well.”

               All eight men were subdued, rendered unconscious, and given multiple broken bones, while Jonathan placed a call to 911. “We have easily twenty minutes before the police arrive,” he said, “we need to be going, please don’t give a description of us to the authorities, tell them that we were wearing masks and rescued you from this horrible crime.”

               Arthur and Jonathan hurried across the warehouse and fled through the rear door to drive away in the opposite direction from which the police would likely approach. They rushed back to Arthur’s apartment and watched the video surveillance feeds to see six police officers enter the warehouse and begin interacting with the college girl and young man. The eight broken men were dragged from the warehouse, put in handcuffs, and presumably incarcerated. A team of EMT’s arrived to verify the physical wellbeing of the college girl and the young man.

               “Wow, that was really good thinking, Arthur,” Jonathan said, “we are continuing our good work of protecting the innocent, because you had that idea, we were able to rescue two people from a very bad situation.” The two men continued to watch the video feeds and were thrilled and somewhat frightened when a very large team of crime scene investigators scoured through the warehouse, uncovered the buried bodies and were hopeful that the eight men were presumed to be the culprits responsible for these multiple deaths.

               “Okay, Arthur,” Jonathan said, “keep doing your secret research and find out the identities of the girl, the young man, and the eight criminals, and how and when their trials will take place. The more we know the better.”

               “Yes, no problem at all,” Arthur answered, “I will have no trouble hacking into the necessary systems to gather all we need to know, this is a remarkable turn of luck that the discovery of the bodies will be blamed on someone else, these are clearly very bad people who would do such a thing to those who seem to be good people.”

               Letting out an aggressive yawn, Jonathan stood up, excused himself, and shuffled to the door to drive home before he became too sleepy as the hour had become quite late.

               “I’ll begin my research tomorrow morning and will let you know what I find,” Arthur said, “honestly it may take a few days before the details of this crime scene become available or is spoken of in the news.” As Jonathan passed through Arthur’s front door, Arthur walked around his apartment, turned off the lights, turned down the heat, took a quick shower, and slid into bed with the scenes from that evening still playing in his mind.

               He rose the next morning, ate breakfast, and began a cursory review of police records and current news, to find that nothing had been documented yet about the crime scene at the abandoned warehouse. “Oof, I need to get ready for work, catch the bus before too long, and continue watching the news,” he grumbled.

               Three days passed when Arthur watched a brief report about the situation at the warehouse, which clarified that multiple bodies had been found buried and were obviously persons who had been tortured to death. The college girl confirmed with the police that the young man with her had been abducted as well and was working hard to protect her from the eight guilty men found lying around the warehouse. She also shared that two men in ski masks rushed into the warehouse and began beating the eight men with baseball bats, which led to their rescue and the phone call to the police.

               The police released an official statement about the situation, thanking the two good Samaritans for their efforts at helping the college girl and the young man, they also confirmed that the eight men who had been arrested were charged with multiple murder charges. No mention was made of the surveillance equipment that Arthur had placed in the warehouse.

               When the news report was finished, Arthur made a phone call to Jonathan about all that he had learned, and that he was still searching for the identity of the college girl and the young man. “We really should contact the young man and thank him for his acts of bravery and self-sacrifice,” Arthur said, “I’ll let you know when I find his name and address, we really need to encourage him and support him.”

Mister Insecure

 

            The longer Simon worked in his position as manager of his department, he eventually began to realize that no one under his authority liked working with him, he began to hear stories about certain individuals seeking to escape his pathetic attempts at control and knowing that he was insecure about himself, he continued to pick up little comments from others who also realized just how insecure he was, lacking many of the vital skills that were necessary for a leader.

               Year after year passed by and he soon came to the realization that his authority really meant nothing to anyone else, and began to become concerned that he was soon to be replaced by someone else who possessed all of the necessary skills that he lacked. He began to use his position of authority as a weapon against those under his control, working very hard to control as much as he could, and at the same time knowing that he was a miserable failure, an absolute loser in terms of being a good leader and that his end was likely to appear sooner than later.

               The group of people over whom he was responsible began to transfer to different companies, different positions, and more peaceful and comfortable jobs with people for whom they had respect. He slowly watched his team reduce from ten to eight to six to four and finally, when he did not have enough people to complete the large task before him, his boss sent him a formal letter informing him that his position with the company would be terminated at the end of the month, to be filled by someone else.

               An overwhelming feeling that he needed to vomit rose to the top of his throat when he finished reading the letter, a painful reminder that he needed to take action and find another role that would provide enough income for he and his family. The work that day came to an end and he informed his wife that he needed to spend a few hours doing some research, terrified at the prospect of telling his spouse about the letter he received.

               After dinner that evening, he locked himself in his office, opened up several job search engines in the hopes of finding something comparable and begin sending his resume to at least five job offers each evening. With burning and tired eyes, he sent off five resumes to comparable jobs, to then escape his office to spend time with his family to watch a few hours of television.

               This became his pattern for the next two weeks, sending at least five resumes to possible job openings, until he finally received eight emails from some of the locations at which he had applied, to read the same message that his current employer had nothing positive to say about him. “We are sorry, Simon, after speaking with your current employer, we do not feel comfortable offering you a position with our company, from what we have been told, your current employer feels that you lack most of the skills for leadership and data analysis work.”

               Despite the crushing disappointment of receiving the same message from so many similar companies, he continued to send at least five resumes each evening, creating a document of names and dates for each position. The end of the month began to draw painfully close, when he finally received the letter from his current employer that he was no longer employed with the company and that another person with better skill, better social abilities, and greater talents would be replacing him immediately after his departure.

               In a painful combination of anger, disappointment, and frustration, he knew that he could not keep this a secret from his spouse any longer. After dinner that evening and after sending out five more resumes, he confessed the tragic situation in which they found themselves as he and she drifted off to sleep. His mind was a maelstrom of anger, disappointment, and frustration as he tried to sleep, to be followed by dreams of working in a position that was far beneath of which he was capable.

               His final paycheck arrived in his bank account, to be followed by a physical letter in the mail, notifying him that he needed to return all of his computer equipment no later than the end of the week, and to stop into the main office to sign a few documents confirming that he understood the reason for his abrupt departure. He then locked himself in his office, fired off an email to his supervisor, confirming that he received the physical letter and he would in fact return his equipment and sign any necessary documents.

               In less than thirty minutes, he received a formal response, thanking him for understanding the terrible situation in which everyone now found themselves. As the last day of the week arrived, he stopped working at four in the afternoon, dissembled his computer gear, loaded it all into his car to make the drive to the main office, return everything that was not his, sign the necessary documents and make a stop at the local computer store to acquire another laptop so he could continue with his normal life.

               As he turned into his cul-de-sac, he pressed the garage door open button, pulled into his garage, and with his new laptop under his arm, he entered his office to see a tragically empty desk. In shock of what had just happened to him, he immediately set up his new laptop, checked his email and saw that the final rejection letters from each job application had arrived. Slowly working through the table of jobs, dates, and details, he realized that he had no more hope at finding another data analyst job any time soon.

               As his spouse was the only one at home at that particular moment, he revealed the tragic and sorry state in which they found themselves. “Phew, honey, this is really bad news,” he said, “I have applied to thirty different data analyst jobs and have been rejected by every single one.”

               “Wow, so what are you going to do?” she asked.

               “I guess I need to expand my search and be willing to take on any other role that will provide some sort of income,” he said, “all of this time I thought everything was going well but it seems I was delusional and confused about everything. Every rejection letter communicated the same message, they all said that when they spoke to my current employer, they were told that I lacked most of the skills necessary to fill that sort of role.”

               “I find that really surprising,” she said, “from everything you have been telling me, I thought everything was going well for you in your former position.”

               “One thing that I have not shared with you is that our original team of ten members has reduced down to four, as everyone else has departed for different companies or different roles in this company,” he said, “I will need to start expanding my search parameters and hopefully find something very soon, because we really need to maintain a consistent income. We really need to have a consistent paycheck coming in every two weeks. I’ll keep you updated as I continue to search.”

               Simon spent the next week scouring through many different job search engines, to find that he continued to receive rejection letters, feeling frustrated and angry, he eventually made the decision to find a job working in the fast-food industry. “I really have no other choice,” he said to himself, “I need to have a regular paycheck coming in every two weeks.”

               Now pathetically unemployed, he eventually found himself standing in front of a deep fryer at a local fast-food restaurant, terrified at the prospect of seeing former employees in the restaurant, embarrassed with his ridiculous change in vocation. His income was now reduced to less than half of what it was before his loss of computer work as a data analyst.

               As his shift came to an end, he flopped into his car emanating an overpowering stench of grease and disappointment. He drove home, parked inside of his garage, threw his clothes into the hamper and took a shower to drive away the horrible fast-food stench that nearly swallowed him. Sitting down for dinner with his wife and one daughter, he confessed that his current job was not providing enough income to maintain their lifestyle. “I guess I have no other choice but to pick up a second job,” he said. “At this point, I don’t know what a second job will look like, it will need to be either before my fast-food job or after, I’ve heard about some companies that hire people to do cleaning at local businesses. So maybe that would be a possibility.”

               “Ugh, that is really disappointing,” his wife said, “if you need to work two jobs, we’ll hardly ever see you. We need to keep talking about this and how we can make this work. Maybe we need to make some changes in our current lifestyle, we can always cut back on groceries, stop taking vacations, and reduce our entertainment budget.”

               “Yes, we will need to continue this conversation,” he said, “providing for our needs is my responsibility, so I will certainly find a way to make this work. Like you said earlier, we both thought everything was good in my former position but apparently, we were both deceived and confused.”

               “Have you considered asking about taking on a different position with your previous employer, we both know that you have technical skills, maybe someone can find a position for you to fill, it would certainly pay better than a job working in fast-food.”

               “Yes, that thought occurred to me,” he said, “I’ll begin asking around but I don’t have high hopes about someone willing to take me on in another position, after hearing multiple times that I don’t have the necessary skills.”

Obese Mis-Aligned Self-Defined

 

            Douglas leaned back in his seat as his senior year of high school began to draw to a close, still uncertain about his path forward once he graduated. Some of his associates strongly suggested that he attend university and put his always active mind to work to find a good, strong, and valuable new vocation. While others suggested that he enroll in some branch of the military. He was torn, he was indecisive, and he struggled with making a decision for there were few people in his life that he considered wise or intelligent enough to follow their advice.

               The last day of school came to an end and three days later, the graduation ceremony took place amidst the cheers of hundreds of audience members. He crossed the stage, received his diploma, returned to his seat and watched his few friends follow the same process as he had just completed. The formal ceremony was over, and dozens of people entered his parent’s home to wish him well, continually badgering him to give an answer about his future plans.

               The outdoors grew dark, Douglas could feel himself declining into fatigue, exhaustion, and a desire to escape from too much social interaction. Eleven o’clock rolled around as he and his parents said goodbye to the last guests. While not one who was known for exercising self-control, he succumbed to the urge to eat the remaining desserts that remained on the kitchen table, to then escape to his bedroom, review his two options, either university or the military.

               He sat down at his desk in his bedroom, slowly thumbed through the pile of paperwork and woke up the next morning with his forehead resting on the desk in a puddle of drool. “Oof, that was a bad idea,” he grumbled. “Okay then, now is the time to make that decision, I think I’ve had enough of submission to academic authority, being forced to provide the answers the professors want to hear, so I guess that means I’ll be going into the Navy.” Slowly and gently lifting himself from his desk, he took a shower, put on soft and comfortable clothes, did some light stretching, unable to touch his toes as his stomach had grown too large for his frame.

               He staggered from his room, shuffled into the kitchen, poured himself a very large mug of coffee, sat down at the table with his father and shared that he finally made the decision to become part of the Navy. “I think that is a great idea,” his father said, “taking on a military life will give you a life structure in which to learn obedience and self-control. You turned eighteen about three weeks ago, so I would strongly suggest going in to the Navy office today to take care of the paperwork.”

               Finishing his coffee, his peanut butter toast and a banana, he rose from his seat, patted his father on his back and agreed with his suggestion for the day. He began a slow walk down the hallway to meet his mother as she emerged from the bathroom, the two of them shared a hug and he shared with her his plan to enter the Navy, “Dad can give you the details while you eat your breakfast.”

               After finishing lunch that day, he borrowed his mother’s car and drove to the Navy enlistment office to engage in a robust and exciting conversation about his plans, to sign paperwork and learn that he had five weeks before he needed to travel to the nearest Navy port. He shook hands with the enrollment officer, drove home, and shared the details with his mother about the meeting. He could see the look of disappointment on her face when he notified her that he would be departing for the open sea in five weeks.

               In what became a monthly pattern, he wrote a letter home to his parents sharing very little about what he was doing, anything about where he was, and his plan to re-enlist once his current duty was complete. Six years passed giving Douglas a great deal of time to make more plans about what to do when he finished his time of enlistment once he returned home. As his tour came to an end, the massive ship departed its current position in the Middle East and arrived at port on the coast of the western United States.

               Thrilled at the prospect of being a regular US citizen once again, and having the option to take on a regular job with a consistent income, to spend time with friends and family members, as the ship docked, he hurried across the parking lot to hug his parents as they had driven many hours to bring their boy home. Passionate and thrilled at the forthcoming home cooked meals when he arrived at home, he retrieved his gear from the trunk, hurried inside, took a shower, and found his mind whirling at who he would visit first after eating dinner.

               Now over twenty-four years of age, he placed multiple phone calls, notifying friends and family that he was now home for good and was looking forward to spending time reconnecting with them over the next several days. Douglas, his father, and his mother finished their dinner, sat together in the living room and began watching television until he fell asleep to awaken to a dark and silent house. “Ugh, that was a bad idea,” he thought, “time to crawl into bed and sleep well.”

               A full stomach, a comfortable bed, and the silence of a regular home without the gentle rocking of the ocean beneath him, allowed him to sleep well and feel rested the next morning. Staggering out of bed, he looked at himself in the mirror and made the decision to grow a beard, as he had been clean shaven for the last six years. Carefully creating clean edges to a beard that would eventually fill in over the next several months, he dressed in civilian clothes and joined his parents for breakfast.

               When the meal was completed, he found a blanket from the closet, slipped outside and laid in the back lawn under the warm sun to enjoy a normal life without being surrounded by fellow soldiers, seagulls, and the constant rocking of the ocean. The beauty, warmth, and comfort lulled him back to sleep to be awakened less than an hour later by his three best friends who had driven over to see him.

               “Hey, Douglas, wake up,” one of them said giving him a gentle kick in his right calf. “We’ve been talking with several of the guys and we’re all going to get together today and find you a good job.”

               “Ugh, hey guys, it’s great to see you,” Douglas said. “Yeah, that sounds great, let’s see what we can put together.” He rolled to his side, stood up, and wandered into the house with his three friends. “Hang on, I need to brush my teeth, my mouth tastes like something died in it.”

               “Yes, please do,” one of them said, “the last thing we need is for you to have jungle breath as we’re trapped in the car with you.”

               The four young men, all around the age of twenty-four shuffled out to the car, drove into town and met at a local pub to enjoy a cool pint, some chicken wings, and engage in social conversation. The table was soon full of good friends all thrilled that Douglas had returned after being gone for so long.

               “Oh, hey, a few of us had a good idea,” one of them said, “the pastor at the local independent church just retired and we were thinking that you could easily step in and takeover that role as pastor. You’ve always had a great gift at teaching and leadership; we all can meet with the elders there and see how that conversation goes.

               “Oh, wow,” Douglas said, “sure that could be an interesting conversation, yes, I agree that would be a great job and an opportunity to educate and guide people who need help in that area.” The four young men finished their beer, their snacks, and left the pub to meet with the elders for a two-hour meeting. The meeting came to a beautiful and encouraging conclusion with an invitation for Douglas to take the pulpit the next weekend.

               “Thank you so much for the invitation,” Douglas said, “I’ll have a sermon ready for next weekend. I believe this will be a perfect arrangement for everyone involved, we’ll stay in touch and keep this congregation growing and succeeding.” After six months of occasionally preaching, he met a wonderful young lady to whom he eventually proposed and began growing a family of his own.

               Douglas accepted the position as head pastor, saw growth in the congregation, and eventually the congregation began forming other congregations in surrounding cities as he began writing books, delivering lectures, holding debates, and forming more organizations built on what his imagination called authentic Christianity. Two decades passed with continued growth, until many other groups in the area began opposing the different theological positions and beliefs he continued to espouse.

               Now with a congregation of twelve hundred people, his phone beeped with a message from his secretary that three college girls from the congregation wanted to meet with him at some point today to discuss an idea they had to raise money for the college group. “Yes, that sounds good, Ellen,” he said, “I think I can meet with them today at three o’clock, do you have any idea what they are thinking?”

               “I’m sorry, Pastor Douglas, I do not,” she said, “you should probably record the conversation so that no details are missed or misunderstood.”

               “That is a great idea,” he said, “please contact them and tell them to be here at three o’clock today.”

               Releasing a long and tired breath, he leaned back in his chair and realized that his stomach had grown disgustingly large after leaving the Navy. “Alright, let’s see here,” he thought, glancing at his watch, “I have two hours before they arrive, I am so curious what this is about.” Manspreading his legs, he leaned his forehead on his desk and took a short nap before his next meeting. The alarm on his phone sounded at two-forty-five, giving him a few moments to wake up, clear his head, and be prepared for the mysterious meeting.

               Rising from his desk, he slowly walked around the church office, feeling slightly winded, feeling remarkably fat and out of shape. He saw a car pull into the parking lot and quickly returned to his office to set up his phone to video record the meeting before the trio of college girls arrived with their thoughts. He sat down, arranged his phone and heard a light knock on his door. “Yes, please come in,” he said.

               The three girls entered his office wearing yoga pants and sports bras, looking slightly sweaty and excited to share their idea. “Please take a seat and tell me what you’re thinking,” he said.

               “Thank you for meeting with us,” one of them said. “The college group is always looking for ways to raise money so we can organize events to draw more people into our church. Here is our idea,” she continued, “there are about thirty people in the college group and someone came up with the idea of having a topless car wash, which I am sure would raise a great deal of money.”

               “Oh my,” he said, “here, write your names, your phone numbers and the names of your parents in this notebook. I will need to meet with the elders and discuss if this would be a wise or safe idea to pursue.” Each girl took the notebook, wrote down the requested information and returned the notebook to him.

               “Very good, thank you,” Douglas said, “I’ll be in touch once a decision is made.”

               He watched the girls leave his office, and immediately placed multiple phone calls to the elders of the Church to share the idea just communicated to him. After four brief conversations with the elders, he then placed calls to the girls’ parents about their idea. The next evening, Pastor Douglas and the elders met to discuss in detail the possibility of pursuing an event like this to raise money for the college group.

               “If we are going to pursue an event like this,” one of the elders said, “it will need to take place somewhere that is not visible to the general public, it will need to be discreet and hidden so we do not get into trouble with indecent exposure.” The decision was made to allow this event to take place if this criterion was met.

               “Okay, I’ll make the phone calls,” Douglas said, “and I’ll report back the details to all of you when those decisions are made.” The elders left his office, giving him a few minutes to make the necessary phone calls, in which he put the rules in place, to learn that a location had already been chosen, inside of an abandoned warehouse that could not be seen from the street or sidewalk.

               Two weekends later, the topless carwash took place and the college group earned over one thousand dollars for their efforts. Unsurprisingly, the majority of their customers were middle aged men, college guys, and high school boys, more than happy to pay for a car wash and soapy show. As five o’clock that afternoon arrived, they called in those advertising with signs, closed the doors and happily counted their money.

               Three months later, Douglas was invited to speak at a town wide conference, to explain and defend his various positions on slavery, on alcohol, on abortion, and the appropriate role of women in the marriage relationship. He and two other men sat the front of the auditorium to discuss and debate these topics while the auditorium was nearly filled with almost one thousand people. Two microphones were placed on the floor at the front of the stage to allow for questions to be asked and clarified.

               There was an awkward pause in the discussion, when a very loud, powerful voice boomed from the center of the room, “Why..are..you..so..fat?” it asked. Douglas looked down at his stomach which was hanging below the seat upon which he sat. A very short man approached one of the microphones and shared his thoughts on the question.

               “It seems to me that Pastor Douglas has no concept of the idea of self-control as he clearly eats way too much with no seeming ability to eat only what is necessary to keep his body in good form,” the man said. No more thoughts or words were shared at this point, so Douglas and the other two men sat on the stage and watched the auditorium slowly empty.

               “Well, that was an odd ending,” Douglas said. “I wish I had the opportunity to provide an answer. Overall, that conference seemed to be an attack upon what we are preaching and teaching at our congregation. I would say that most in the auditorium were vehemently opposed to our existence and goals.”

               “Yes, I agree,” one of the other men said. “It is unfortunate that you were not able to better communicate your position on leniency for those guilty of pedophilia and possession of child pornography. The mere fact that there are five instances of people connected with your congregation and other congregations being guilty of these crimes has a great number of people fighting against you. This is something you need to directly address and answer. The abuse of children is not something that normal people will ignore. You need to take a harder stand on this topic and deal with this among your own people and the other congregations that are associated with you.”

               “From what we are seeing in the national news,” the other man said, “this crime against children is growing at an exponential rate across the entire country. You need to be more vocal, more direct, and more aggressive against those guilty of these crimes. Those people not connected to any church will not understand the idea of not condemning others especially when it is in regards to protecting children.”

               “Yes, I completely agree,” Douglas said as he pulled himself to his feet, breathing hard and shuffling across the stage to descend to the auditorium floor and drive home. His mind was a whirlwind about how to answer these questions about pedophilia and child pornography. “Wow, this is going to take a great deal of thought, planning, and explanation,” the thought. “I cannot soft sell this problem, it needs to be directly addressed, confronted and answered.”

               Heaving himself from his car as he parked near his back door, he shuffled up the sidewalk, ascended the four steps to pass through the back door, ridiculously winded he sat down on his recliner to watch the news and wait for his wife to join him for a discussion about the conference.

               “So how did the conference go?” she asked.

               “From my perspective, it did not go very well,” he answered, “there were at least one thousand people there and it seemed that almost everyone was opposed to my explanations, my answers, and everything we teach at our congregation. Oh, also, something funny, there was a pause in the discussion when someone in the auditorium asked in a very loud voice, why I was so fat. Unfortunately, I did not have the opportunity to give an answer, a random man from the audience spoke up first and said that I clearly had no self-control when it came to eating.”

               “Speaking of eating, dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes,” she said. “You probably have time to take a short nap if you so desire. It will be just you and I eating together tonight, the children have other plans.”