Crime & Punishment: The Prequel Ch. 06

No, the problem was as the memorandum's writer had admitted this case might go to trial before being dismissed on appeal. It was a trial that would trouble the conscience of people and shake the government. O'Reilly could envision it in his mind.

The plaintiff's attorneys would begin with a long line of witnesses to attest to their horrible abuse, and the suffering that blossomed like evil weeds therefrom. Then they would place the attractive and successful Steven Fitzgerald on the stand and confront him with his own former statements of how as a boy of eleven he had been brutally attacked when he delivered a home-baked cake to the parish rectory. The attorney would go on to ask how the boy had escaped. How his screams brought his friend to his assistance.

They would put in a description of the uneven fight between the twelve-year-old Sullivan boy and the priest. How in desperation Sullivan seized and swung a heavy silver crucifix knocking the priest unconscious and causing him serious bodily injury. And then, the plaintiff's attorneys would stop. They would drag Sullivan onto the stand and open up the criminal proceedings that followed. That good honest man would be questioned as to how he was treated for saving his friend. The jury would hear about the second round of abuse the boys had received from the very adults who were charged with protecting them, the police, attorneys, and judges.

No jury ever picked would not find liability, and no matter the ultimate outcome the political damage would be done, and very possibly the criminal damage because the criminal statute would run from the last act of the concealment, the last bribe, the last quid pro quo, and the last obstruction of justice. All that was needed for a political earthquake was the proof.

The cardinal had warned the governor that the proof might exist, that the Church might have kept it against a rainy day. That the state's current administration was at risk, and O'Reilly, the outsider with flexible morality, was charged to find out the truth and how far the ripples of destruction would extend, but mostly what tall reputations would topple.

The cardinal's warning was clearly a threat, "Don't interfer or else." But, what was the "or else?" Was the governor in the file? Just how high did this thing go, and did O'Reilly really want to know? Was his morallity that flexable?

O'Reilly was no neophyte. He knew where to start, and that was with the juvenile criminal record, a record so conveniently sealed against the discovery of the sins contained therein. It took six weeks to prise the file from the criminal justice division with all the muscle of the governor's office behind him. Chance had favored him because Sulivan, the subject of his inquiry was up for appointment as acting DA. It gave him a good story to maintain the cover of what he was actually investigating.

The total file when received was a single page, a form used by the juvenile court. To the untrained eye, it was useless, but to Jimmy O'Reilly it spoke. The charge was too low for the alleged facts, assault third degree. The Judge Sara Markum was a retired Judge sitting by designation. The prosecutor was a low-level ADA, but the name of the defense attorney was outstanding. Edward Kincade's name appeared right in the box where it belonged, but it wasn't the current governor. It was Edward Kincade Senior. He was a partner in Tallman, Blake & Shuman.

TB&S, as the firm was known, was a major real estate law firm. Its partners should not be found in the criminal courts. Edward Kincade, Sr. was doing more than slumming, and Edward Kincade, Jr. now had a problem.

Everything else was missing from the juvenile record. There were no witness statements, no investigative report, and no social services evaluation. They had either gone missing or never been prepared, but Jimmy suspected the former. Someone had those records. Perhaps, a cardinal looking to blackmail a governor over his father's sins?

O'Reilly's secretary put a call through from Carrie Wilson.

"How's my favorite special prosecutor doing?" Carrie asked.

"Depends on what prosecutor you are talking about?"

"You silly, I just put the paperwork through for your new appointment."

"Can I ask what I'm investigating now?"

"The juvenile justice system," she replied.

"I take it that the governor saw a copy of the Sullivan case file?" Jimmy asked.

"Yes, he's very upset."

"Why because he didn't know his father put his name in the box.?"

"No, because he knew nothing about it at all," Carrie replied, the anger clear in her voice.

"You sure?" he prodded.

"One hundred percent. He knew nothing about this at all, or he would have acted long before now. You need to have some faith in the man you work for."

Jimmy lacked the ability to have the kind of faith in people that Carrie had. They had been dating now for over a year. It was a relationship that was going nowhere. She had a homosexual fiance who was using her to maintain his and his lover's place in the closet. Jimmy had an absent and unfaithful wife who he would not divorce because of his two young daughters.

Yet, it was politics that divided the lovers most effectively. Carrie was completely loyal to her boss, the governor, and Jimmy could not bring himself to trust the man. Perhaps it was more than his normal skepticism and maybe not, but Jimmy remained a careful and untrusting man.

The investigation Jimmy was conducting clearly reached the governor's father, but it would also touch other powerful men. People who had much to lose. Jimmy could not bring himself to rely on a politician. Governor Edward Kincade was a politician first and last, and attorney James O'Reilly would watch his own back.

"Ok, I will give the benefit of the doubt until there is no further doubt," Jimmy told Carrie.

"Faith, O'Reilly, you need to have faith."

But, Jimmy could not help wondering whether the young victims of abuse had been asked to Have Faith.