Sins of the Father

Sins of the Father

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been...waow, years since my last confession,” the man said, that fact obviously just dawning on him.

A short, throaty chuckle from the listening side of the confessional reminded him of a department store Santa.

“I’m not here to judge,” the priest said. “I’m just the middle man; now, tell me your sins”

“Sin, Father,” the man said, correcting him.

“I’m sorry?”

“There’s just the one sin, Father.”

“Go on,” the priest said hesitantly.

“I killed a man, Father.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I killed a man.”

“When was this?” the priest asked. “And how?”

“Just now and I shot him.”

“Where?” the priest asked, unable to hide the shock in his voice.

“In the head. Twice.”

“No, I meant where as in location. At his home? At your home? In the street?” the priest said, regaining a bit of composure.

“Oh, I see; his house. I knocked, he opened the door and I shot him through the eye. Then the side of the head for good measure,” he said, feeling stupid for pretending in a four feet by four feet darkened room that his index and middle fingers were a gun.

“My God, why?” asked the priest, his composure wavering again. “Did you even know this man? Was it just a random killing?”

“He was a paedo; went to jail for it too. He only got out a couple of weeks back but he’s been strolling around like...” a comparison escaped him. “He was seen hanging around outside a school where he doesn’t have kids. He doesn’t have kids,” the man explained.

“Have you done this before? Was it spur of the moment? Had you been planning it?” the priest asked, starting to sound more like a hardened police officer grilling a suspect than a man of God impartially listening while another man offloads his transgressions.

“I wouldn’t say I’d been planning it but every time I saw him out and about, lording it without a care in the world walking past little kids, I knew it would only be a matter of time before someone did something. I just didn’t think that someone would be me,” the man said, sounding almost pleased with himself.

“Have you told the police yet?” the priest asked.

“Not yet and not ever.”

“But you’ve murdered a man,” the priest reminded him.

“No. I’ve given all the mothers around here some peace of mind, that’s what I’ve done,” the man said. “He got what he deserved.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make. To you, there were no alternatives but God knows what this man has done as he knows everything and would not have let his actions go unnoticed or unpunished. Proverbs; chapter eleven, verse twenty-one even promises us that ‘Assuredly, the evil man will not go unpunished.’ Are you familiar with the readings of the bible?”

“Punished how?” the man asked, ignoring the question. “If you’re going to give me the ‘not getting eternal life’ line, I’ve seen to that myself.”

“Do you think God may now see you as an evil man?” the priest asked.

“Evil? What? Are you kidding me? This man ruined the lives of so many children around here, plus the families they came from: mothers looking at it the way women do; feeling the pain their children felt and fathers feeling like failures because they couldn’t protect their kids and prevent that pain. Both becoming way too over-protective afterwards because of him, stopping kids being kids.” the man said, struggling to maintain the expected decibel levels of a confessional booth.

There was a short silence followed by a faint clunk.

“There’s no-one else waiting,” the priest said without giving a reason for checking.

“I know,” the man said. “I knew confession ended at half-past so I knew if I left it until just before then, there was a good chance I’d be last.”

“I see,” was all the priest could say.

“Well, I thought this could possibly take a while; it’s not like I wanted to tell you I’d swore at someone who’d just pulled out in front of me, is it?” the man explained.

He couldn’t see the priest hold his glasses in his left hand, close his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose hard between the thumb and index finger of his right hand. This was definitely a far cry from the run-of-the-mill five Our Fathers, five Hail Mary’s and a Glory Be worst-case confessions he was used to, that’s for sure.

“Look,” the priest hoped to sound compassionate or, at least, non-judgemental. “I can understand the anger you must have felt, watching a man who preyed on the innocent and defenceless receive what you consider to be a meagre judicial punishment in view of the hideous crimes that punishment related to. I can also understand your anger intensifying not only at knowing this man has been released from prison but watching him flaunt the freedom you felt he didn’t deserve.”

He paused, hearing only the other man breathing heavily from the other booth.

“However,” he went on. “The Bible has an abundance of reminders to not seek revenge but to leave that to God. In Romans, chapter twelve, for example, the Lord is quoted as saying, ‘It is mine to avenge; I will repay.’ And the Commandments are quite blunt when they tell us, ‘Thou shalt not kill.’”

“How, Father?” the man asked quietly.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“How would you understand the anger I must have felt?”

“Well...,” the priest began.

“How,” the man said again, louder this time to show he hadn’t finished speaking. “How could you possibly understand the anger I must have felt?”

The priest waited this time.

“Do you have children, Father?” he said, sarcastically emphasizing the other man’s title.

“Well...well, no I don’t have children in the biological sense...” the priest’s attempt to speak was interrupted again.

“But nothing,” the man’s voice remained raised. “That ‘biological sense’ is what makes all the difference; it’s what makes them part of you and that doesn’t ever change or leave. Even adoption, those parents, those children are like two sides of the same coin.” Out of sight of the priest, he flipped an invisible coin off his thumb and index finger. “One side of the coin has been wanting children for God knows how long but, for whatever reason, have never managed to have any of their own in the biological sense. The other side of the coin has been crying out for the love and the security a parent gives to a child. They may not even know they wanted this love and security until they get it but when they find each other after years of looking; that’s a strong bond.”

There was a silence the priest was afraid to break.

“You don’t have any of those things to help you understand so, I’m sorry, but you can’t have a...” he just managed to stop himself swearing. “...clue how I felt.”

Futilely, the priest nodded his head slowly in agreement. He could hear the man breathing heavily again.

“I’m sorry, I can’t just give you my blessing or forgiveness or…, look, in the eyes of God nothing can justify taking matters into your own hands, especially to the extent you have. You killed a man for God’s sake,” the priest blurted.

“I did kill a man but not for God’s sake, for the sake of the kids whose lives he’s ruined and their families trying to help them through it,” the man said. “And what about non-believers or doubters?”

“I don’t follow,” confessed the priest.

“They don’t believe or aren’t sure there even is a God so how are they going to believe he would handle the punishment of ass-wipes like this. They’d want proof. If their child was one of his victims, they’d want proof that he got his comeuppance and they’d want that proof now. They wouldn’t be content with that whole ‘God’ll sort it out’ bullshit.” The priest thought of objecting to the man’s language but didn’t get a chance. “They wouldn’t be happy watching this guy moseying around without a care in the world, waiting for him to die in his eighties of natural causes before God punishes him by sending him to eternal damnation. Where’s the closure in that? There’ll be a few parents dancing a jig of delight when they hear of my damnation, you can bet on that.” Again the priest tried in vain to interject. “I’m as much of a churchgoer as the next man and I never would have thought I’d have done what I did until I had to do it. And you know what, Father? I’d have no qualms about doing it again, believe me. If you were in my shoes, you’d have done the same thing,” the man said confidently.

“Why?” the priest asked.

“Why, what?”

“Why did you do it? I know you said you had an abhorrence of this man for what he’d done to innocent children and believed he would do to more in the future but why did you take it on yourself to call this man to task?” the priest elaborated.

“I’ve already said...”

“No, actually, you haven’t. Not really. You did say that I wouldn’t understand your mindset because I don’t have children. Do you have children?”

The man didn’t get to reply.

“Is that it? Was your child one of his victims?”

The man remained silent. The priest waited.

“The victim that got him caught,” the man said finally, just above a whisper. “We were at the park; Grace’s friend, Olivia, came along too. It was a hot day; I’d never seen Grace drink so much water.” The priest heard a faint sigh. “Maybe if it had been cooler...” the man’s voice trailed off. He cleared his throat before speaking again. “Yeah, all that water took a toll; it seemed like she was asking to go to the toilet every five minutes.” He cleared his throat again. “Yeah, anyway, the last time she went she was gone for ages. After a while, Olivia needed to go too. Her dad was taking her so I asked him to call in to Grace, see if she was okay...why didn’t I just go with Grace too?”

The priest wasn’t sure if the question was aimed at him or was just the other man thinking out loud.

“There’s no point in whys and what-ifs now. Olivia’s dad had just got to the door of the toilet block when a man – him – came bursting out of the ladies’ toilet. When he saw John – Olivia’s dad – he turned and ran the other way. John immediately called to me and ran after him. I ran up there. My heart was pounding. I don’t know how but I knew something bad had happened. I held the door open a smidge and called in. No-one answered. I called out to Grace, ‘Are you in there, sweetheart? Are you okay?’ I could hear, not so much crying as whimpering. I opened the door.”

The priest remained silent, knowing the man had to get this out.

“She was standing in front of the sinks. She had her shorts in one hand and her underwear in the other. She was trembling; I could see that from the door. No tears, just a whimpering. Too shocked and scared and confused to cry yet. John caught him and held him and called the police. I’d stayed with Grace and only saw him as he was being bundled in a police car. They questioned Grace for hours; over time, of course. They were good; gentle with her but it’s still going to leave a mark on a kid that age.”

The man stopped again. The priest could hear his breathing getting heavier. When he spoke again, his voice was laced with anger again. “He got what he deserved; my only regret was not doing it sooner.”

“What happened to your daughter was appalling but two wrongs still don’t make a right. Thessalonians asks us to be kind to each other instead of paying back wrong for wrong,” the priest said.

“Pardon my French but fuck Thessalonians,” the man snapped. “Thessalonians doesn’t know shit. What I did was right, he got what he deserved.”

The priest finally cracked, “How dare you. How dare you come into the house of God and talk about a murder you’ve just committed like you’re in some alehouse bragging to your hoodlum buddies.”

“I sentenced him to death for his crimes then carried out the execution.”

“Why did you come here? Confession is meant to be used to admit to sins, repent and ask for absolution. Yes, you’ve confessed to a murder but have shown no desire to repent and you’ve certainly shown no signs that you believe you’ve done anything that requires forgiveness. Did you expect a pat on the back? My blessing to become a vigilante figure? Would your daughter have wanted this?”

“She’s too young to understand.”

“When she’s older; will she feel proud of you for what you’ve done or ashamed to have a murderer as a father?”

“Fuck you, father.”

“You’re a disgrace. As a father, you should have been a moral role model to your daughter. God has seen what you’ve done. In his eyes, you are no better than the man you murdered; you have carried out a gravely sinful act and will have to be judged for it before God like anyone else, regardless of your motives.”

“Did you leave your sense of humanity in the car when you became a priest, Father? You seem to be showing more sympathy towards a child molester than an innocent eight-year-old girl. You’re the disgrace. You should be asking God for forgiveness,” the man bawled.

“Get out of my church. This is a matter for the police but I hope God can find it in his heart to forgive you because I know I’m finding it hard. My advice to you is to spend the rest of your life addressing everything that’s happened today and trying to put it right.” the priest snarled back.

“You’re right father,” the man said, more softly now. “In fact, I’ve been doing just that. I’ve been looking at all that’s happened and what I need to do now to move on.”

“I’m glad, I’m glad you’ve seen clarity. May you and your daughter find inner peace.”

“We will,” the man said.

The priest heaved a huge sigh of relief on hearing the door of the adjoining booth close then bent his head for a moment in silent prayer.

Afterwards, he opened the door of the booth to see the man standing there, a gun pointing at his head. The priest didn’t get a chance to speak before the bullet hit the centre of his forehead. He knew nothing of the second one.

“Fuck you, Father, for you have sinned,” the man spat the words into the confessional before turning and pocketed the gun again as he walked away without a backward glance; his conscience clear.