Monday, December 04, 2006

Smiling Madonna - Chapter Eight


It is my job to
come over and
talk, especially in
painful situations
Author's note: As more details of locations and people emerge, let me say that none of these churches, monks, pastors, members of congregations, nor this police branch actually exist in reality.

“Sargeant Keith Chang beginning the interview in room three, Greenlake precinct, on October 17th, 1988. Please state your name and occupation for the record.”

“My name is George Anderson. I am one of the pastors at Green Lake Lutheran Church.”

“Pastor Anderson, what did you see the morning of the fifth of October?”

“When I arrived at the Simpson home—“

“Excuse me, you mean the home of Sheila Simpson, correct?”

“Yes. When I arrived at Sheila Simpson’s home, I walked up the sidewalk and turned into the driveway, like I always do. Immediately, an officer called out to me and asked me what I was doing.”

“For the record, I, Keith Chang was the officer. Go on, please”

“Then you asked me some more questions and I told you that I usually walk this way to Sheila, er, Mrs. Simpson’s home, especially when I come to walk her dogs.

“I then told you and the other officer that it is my job to come over and speak with Mrs. Simpson and other parishioners, when they ask for me. Especially in stressful or painful situations.”

“Then what did you do?”

“I walked through the garden and around the front to the door, went in and spoke with Mrs. Simpson.”

“Were you at the house earlier in the day?”

“I was not. I had been called to visit someone in the hospital and switched dog walking duties with Henry.”

“Henry Isaacson is the name of the man who was killed.”

“That’s right.”

“Do you know why anyone would want to hurt Henry?”

“No. I can’t imagine. He was a great member of the congregation. He was involved in community activities, including reading at the library with kids. I can’t think of any area of Henry’s life that was not a wonderful witness.”

“Can you think of any reason someone would want to kill you?”

“What?! No!... Are you saying that you think that Henry’s death was meant for me?”

“We have been examining all the information and this is one avenue we need to follow up on. So, if you would: Can you think of any reason someone would want to hurt or kill you?”

Some few moments passed.

“I can imagine that it is possible someone from one of my past congregations has a grudge against me, but they are far away and it’s an old thing. Not enough to want to track me down and try to hurt me.”

“What was the source of this grudge?”

“I chose to go one way with a decision and they didn’t like it.”

“What does that mean?”

“There was a vote in the congregation about using the endowment funds in the struggle to stay relevant and meaningful and I campaigned and enlisted the help of long time members to overthrow the ‘old guard’ control. I then led the charge to use the funds to spend on ministry that the congregation had been saying it had wanted to do for twenty years.”

“You think that there are some people who would actually want to hurt you for doing this?”

“You must not have be as active a church-goer as I initially took you for.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Of course they were upset enough to hurt me. It might be slightly astonishing to think that anyone would still be that angry now, but I can come up with a scenario, based on what I know of that congregation’s history that might support a few people I can name for you who would choose to, even plan to be violent to me.”

“Damn. Maybe I am glad I’m Catholic.”

“Yeah. That would explain it.”

“Okay, You’re free to go.”

George finished up the interview and stood. As he did he realized that this was a revealing interview. Not only did the Sergeant learn a lot about church politics and the emotions connected with those, George himself learned how seriously he was involved in the investigation of Henry’s murder. And that little thing about himself being the intended target…

Stephen, Jack and Tim all listened as George recounted the interview around the dinner table. Wednesday night was “open” night. This meant sometimes they agreed to be silent, sometimes the brothers listened to an audio book and tonight, as on a couple dozen Wednesdays a year, they talked.

“How did the police get the idea that you were the real target of the attack again?”

“I’m not sure. I didn’t exactly feel it was the time for me to ask questions,” said George.

“What was it that the sergeant said, after you described how you couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to kill Henry? Something about hurting you?”

“Yes… Actually, he asked if I could think of anyone who would want to kill me… I was surprised, obviously, then he clarified that they were looking into all the reasons why this thing happened.”

“But the officer asked again, why anyone would want to kill you. Right?”

Reluctantly, George answered, “Yes…”

“I think the police department is concerned, because they can’t figure out why Henry would have been killed. And you were the one who might have been the intended victim, since you were the one who initially was scheduled to be there that morning.” Jack paused, then asked the three others, “Does that make sense?”

Tim spoke next, “Yes, I’m afraid it does. But what does that mean? Did the police say anything about their investigation going on from there?”

“And who could be so mad and crazy to want to kill you, George? You haven’t done anything like in San Jose here. And I heard from you as well as other places in the synod that the parish in Bellevue was sad about you leaving! Is there anything else you can think of?”

“I can’t imagine. I haven’t done anything except…

“No way, then any of us might be a target.”

“You’re kidding! You guys aren’t thinking that George is a target because of this community!”

“When do we get to go away for a few days, again?” asked Tim.

“In two days,” said Stephen, “two days, until we retreat.”




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