The Consequence of Secrets - Part Four: A Priest Romance (3 page)

The trial takes days. Emma is beautiful and strong in her stance as she insists on arguing ‘battered woman’s syndrome’, which means that she has to admit to shooting Gabe and needs to prove to the court that she acted purely in self-defense. She sits in the witness stand, poised, perfect. I wish to be able to hold her hand and comfort her. But, I have a role to play. I need to keep my distance.

Emma answers every question clearly, detailing the abuse and the threats that had been made. She suggests that Gabe had injured Jules and then that he was responsible for the death of her father. But those acts are ruled inadmissible because there was no foul play detected by the police, and she was going on her own supposition. She explains how she told him she didn’t want to have children, and he attacked her. She goes through her injuries, sits through a slide show of photography that shows her battered, bruised and broken by his hands. She says how she was scared when her father died because of his threats, and with the help of her sister, Victor and myself, she fled to a small community in the hope of staying safe.

Tears fall from her eyes as she talks about the day Gabe found us. She said we were working within the commune and were taking a short lunch break when Gabe found us and pulled out his gun. Her story is almost exactly what happened, however, she leaves out the part where we are lovers and were about to have sex. She refers to me as ‘Father Daniels’ and when she makes eye contact, it’s fleeting – we can’t be caught looking at each other for more than a beat if we’re to keep our relationship a secret.

Everything about her story seems to have the jury looking sympathetic, and I allow the hope of a suspended sentence to build in my chest. I say a silent prayer, hoping this will be over soon, hoping that they’ll understand her suffering and grant her clemency. But, I still have that tug of doubt in my stomach because the DA is hell bent on focusing on my involvement. While I act as a witness, I also pose as a problem. Why didn’t I stop Gabe? Why didn’t I intervene? What was I doing there? Why were we alone? The questions are endless, and when it’s my time to take the stand, I feel the damp nerves in the palms of my hands and press them against my black cleric pants, as I take my seat in the witness box when I’m sworn in.

I glance over at Emma, sitting demurely at the table for the defense. Her eyes meet mine, and I can see that she is losing hope. The fact she’s on trial for manslaughter is crushing her. My heart aches to comfort her.

The lawyer representing her stands; he’s a tall man in his early fifties with salt and pepper hair, a long nose, dimpled chin and square shoulders. He wears a dark suit with a white shirt and a deep red silk tie, all perfectly pressed as he approaches and smiles at me.

“Father Daniels,” he starts. “Can you tell the court in your own words what happened that day?”

Clasping my hands in front of me, I press my lips together as I nod and lean slightly forward to speak into the microphone, telling my slightly fabricated version of truth, hoping that God forgives me and understands that I’m only doing this to protect Emma the way He wanted me to. “Of course,” I start. “Ms. Williams and I had been working within the community we were staying at and had taken a break for lunch. While we were eating Gabe McIntyre approached us with a gun in hand, which he then used to threaten us both. He kicked me then grabbed Ms. Williams by the hair and pressed his gun into her throat, saying that he was going to kill her for trying to leave him. He also said that he was going shoot everyone she cared about – her sister and fiancé, and as well as myself – when Ms. Williams began to cry and beg for him to not to hurt anyone but her, he turned his attention to her. At that point, I reached down and grabbed a handful of dirt which I threw at him and attracted his attention. He released Ms. Williams and at that point, I tackled him to the ground where we fought for a time. I told Emma to run, but I think she was scared because the gun went off and we continued to fight. I was trying to get him to release it and to restrain him and eventually, I did. The gun went skidding away and in his desperation, Mr. McIntyre kneed me in the spine and managed to get free. Then I heard the gunshot and when I got up, Mr. McIntyre was on top of Ms. Williams. She was trapped beneath him. I helped her by rolling him off her and when he was on his back, I saw the wound, and the gun in Ms. William’s hand. That’s when other’s from the community arrived – they’d heard the gunshots, called the police and come running,” I summarized.

“In your opinion, do you think that if the defendant hadn’t pulled that trigger she’d be sitting here alive today?”

I glance over at Emma, meeting her stained glass eyes, wide with fear and nerves. “No,” I state surely. “He would have killed her. He would have killed me, and I have no doubt that he would have carried out his threats toward Jules Williams and Victor Alessio as well. Gabe McIntyre was there with a single goal that day – he planned to kill us all. There is no doubt in my mind.”

“Do you believe she acted in self defense?”

“Yes. I do.” Emma gives me a small smile but otherwise remains quite still.

“Thank you, father,” he says, moving back to his table so the DA can cross-examine me. The DA, a younger man than the defense with a smaller stature and cheaper looking suit stands and runs his hand down the front of his suit jacket, securing the button, presenting himself professionally with his neatly combed dark hair. “Can you explain to the court what your relationship with the accused is?”

“I’m her priest, and I also consider myself to be her friend.”

“Her friend? Is that why you left your congregation so suddenly, Father? Is that why there are a lot of rumors around town that suggest you two are more than just friends – that you stole her from her husband and the two of you have set this whole thing up?” He raises his brow, giving me a look that tells me he’s in this to win. He doesn’t care about what he’s trying to do to a woman who’s already suffered enough.

I narrow my eyes at him and wish for a moment that God really was vengeful so he could zap this man with a bolt of lightening for being an asshat.

“Objection,” the defense calls out. “Hearsay.” I glance over at Emma’s lawyer, as he writes on a legal pad in front of him, and he listens to the judge’s ruling on his objection.

“Sustained. Rumors are inadmissible. The jury will disregard the comments from the prosecution. Councilor, I suggest you keep your questions succinct and steer clear of any story telling. Is that understood?”

The DA nods then looks back at me with a smug look on his face and waits a beat, giving the jury time to absorb the information he just gave them – letting the seeds of doubt he planted to take hold. I look at the sea of faces, their curious eyes moving between Emma and myself, trying to decide if the rumors are true.

“I’ll rephrase. Were you in a romantic relationship with the defendant, Father Daniels?” he asks.

I take a deep breath and try to keep my expression even while anger flares up inside me. What is the goal of this man? Why is he trying to discredit Emma’s ordeal by making our relationship the base of his argument? Does he seriously want to send a woman to prison for shooting the man who subjected her to abuse for years? What kind of a world are we living in?

“No,” I respond. It’s a lie, but a necessary one. I won’t let him make our love for each other into something seedy.

“Then why were you there, father? Explain it to me, because I don’t understand why a man of God would take leave from his position without notifying anyone unless he was having a crisis of faith. Were you sleeping with her? Did you want Gabe McIntyre dead so you could have her to yourself?”

“Leading the witness!” the defense calls. “And Father Daniels is not the one on trial.”

At this point, I should close my mouth. However I answer anyway. I won’t have my silence looking guilty in front of a jury.

“My beliefs haven’t changed, councilor. I still follow the path God set me upon. I was with Emma that day because I was protecting her from a man who had threatened her life on numerous occasions.”

“So it wasn’t because you’re in love with her and wanted her for yourself?”

The judges gavel bangs. Voices raise.

“Objection!”

The DA holds up his hand and apologizes. The judge warns him to base his questions on facts instead of rumors.

“Why were you there, Father?” he tries again.

I lean forward, looking him dead in the eye. “I was with her to protect her after the legal system failed to help her in the first place,” I answer, narrowing my eyes at him and sitting further forward in my seat. He opens his mouth to ask more questions but I continue talking, feeling angry and needing to plant my own seeds of doubt in the jury’s mind – whatever the personal cost may be. I swore to protect her, and I will… “Your department, while readying their case against Gabe McIntyre did nothing but show their incompetence while releasing a dangerous man out on bail. A man who, if I hadn’t stopped him, would have beat Ms. Williams to death. And instead of protecting her, you let him out on bail while she was still recovering from that beating in hospital. Then despite the police swearing there was no foul play, a perfectly healthy man, Brent Williams, drowned in his bathtub, causing Emma Williams to fear for her life and the life of her sister and her unborn child. The police – your police –
failed to protect her!
”
I begin to raise my voice, my blood pumping in my ears as I glare at the district attorney. He keeps trying to silence me, and the judge is warning me about contempt, but I don’t care, I keep going, and finally, I answer the question he asked me. “You want to know why I was there, councilor? I was there because
you failed – YOU failed – your department failed.
And if I hadn’t been there to save her on the night he beat her. If I hadn’t been there to distract him when he had a gun to her head, Emma Williams would be dead right now. I was there because the legal system couldn’t or wouldn’t protect her. I was there because God sent me to her. I was there because I was doing
my job
and
your job.
I was there because I was protecting an innocent woman from a monster. And now I’m here doing exactly the same thing.”

The judge bangs his gavel and instructs the bailiff to remove me from the courtroom. The DA narrows his eyes at me as I’m pulled from the witness stand. “Are you calling me a monster, father?”

“Yes, councilor, that’s exactly what I’m calling you.”

Everyone is yelling, and the judge warns the DA to keep his mouth closed before he joins me. I glance over at Emma, she’s crying. “I’m sorry,” I mouth, hating that my outburst has upset her, but feeling vindicated because at least now the jury knows everything. And on top of that, they just watched the courts arrest a priest for protecting a woman from an abusive husband. I’ve planted my own seeds. Now I just have to hope they take hold.

“This world of ours is a strange place. There are rules we must follow, but on top of those rules are expectations that tend to create loopholes within those rules. A man spends years beating his wife. He almost kills her and instead of keeping him in jail to protect that wife, they grant him bail and he goes out to seek revenge against her for speaking out – for going against him. When that woman fights back and refuses to die, instead, killing him before he can kill her, she is put on trial and treated as a criminal, even though all along she has been the victim in a world that couldn’t or wouldn’t adequately protect her. Why are we trying to put her in prison for saving herself? Why was she considered such a risk that she wasn’t released on bail to await her trial? What made her so different that she has spent three months locked up while awaiting her trial? Look at her, who was she a danger to?”

My lawyer pauses and slowly scans the jury box, meeting the eyes of each juror as he gives his closing argument. My stomach swirls nervously, and my fingers twist and worry against each other. My mind is with Braden, wondering where he is and if he’s all right. I’m so scared that this is all going to be over before it really gets the chance to begin. I just want a life. I just want to love. I don’t want to sit in prison for the death of a man who wanted me and everyone I love dead. How is that justice?

“You have seen the photos,” he continues. “You’ve seen the scars from bite marks, and the multiple beatings she’s undergone over the years. You saw the medical reports from the last time he beat her, putting her in the hospital, breaking her bones, raping her, choking her. Gabe McIntyre was not a good man. He lured Emma into a marriage where he did nothing but torment her in order to get what he wanted – a son, and the key to the Williams’s family fortune. When that backfired, he wanted Emma Williams dead. Both times, she was saved by a priest – not the police, not the DA’s department – but a priest. Now he’s sitting in a jail cell for contempt when he was simply telling the truth, and Ms. Williams is sitting here facing charges for doing the only thing she could in the situation the DA’s office put her in. She had to kill or be killed. There was no choice here. Ladies and gentlemen, when you go back into that room and begin talking about this case, I urge you to take a good and thorough look through all the evidence. Look at how tormented Emma Williams has been in her marriage; understand her fear. Then I want you to ask yourself, if you were in her shoes, and a man who swore he’d kill you – who only weeks before had almost beaten you to death – dropped the gun he was threatening you with. Would you grab it and pull the trigger? Or would you sit back and wait for him to grab it and shoot you and the people you care about in this world? I know what I’d do, and I believe you’ll all come to the same conclusion and come back here with a Not Guilty verdict. Emma Williams has suffered enough and doesn’t deserve to be behind bars. It’s time to let her go home and live in peace.”

I close my eyes, and without thinking, I pray…