Deliver Us From Evil (13 page)
Read Deliver Us From Evil Online
Authors: John L. Evans
“Thank you, Mr. Kramer. Your witness, Counselor.”
Richard Ramsey remained seated for a few minutes. He studied Kramer with a long, curious look. “Mr. Kramer, you have testified in this courtroom today, that you were very active in church affairs. That you were an usher, you worked around the church and the rectory. That you coached the boys’ basketball team. The list goes on and on. Would you say that was a fair and accurate statement, Mr. Kramer?”
“Yes, it is.”
Ramsey rose from the defense table and moved toward the witness stand. “I’d say all of this was extremely commendable. My information is that all the boys looked up to you. You were a role-model for them. True, Mr. Kramer?”
“I’d like to think that was true, sir. Yes.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you are seriously considering entering the seminary. You want to follow the priesthood,
yourself.
Isn’t that true?”
“Yes. It is.”
Ramsey paused slightly. “For the boys, you were a role-model, a sort of ‘hero’ for many of them. You could do no wrong. True, Mr. Kramer?”
“Well,” Kramer said, a little embarrassed, “I guess you might say that was true.”
Ramsey was eyeing him closely. “But, you do admit, and I’ll take your word for it, that you got into a heated argument with Father Reiniger that Sunday at the lake?”
“Yes, sir. That’s right.”
Ramsey moved closer to the stand. He gripped the wooden railing. He was within a few feet of Kramer. When he spoke, his voice was low; he did this intentionally; he wanted the jury’s full attention. “Mr. Kramer, I’d like to
regress
for a moment, if you will. I’d like to go back to the night of Friday, January 15
th
of this year. Does that night mean anything to you, Mr. Kramer?”
A puzzled frown filtered across Kramer’s face. “No. No, it doesn’t. Should it?”
“I’ll refresh your memory. That was the night your basketball team played Moreno Valley High. I’ve been told it was a spectacular game, and the score was an even tie of 65, in the final ten seconds of the game. Your star player got two free throws and missed both times! Moreno Valley went on to score another basket, and they won the game!”
Kramer was perplexed. “But, what’s your point, Mr. Ramsey?”
Ramsey’s voice turned loud, abrasive. “My point, Mr. Kramer, is that immediately after the game, in the dressing room, to be exact, in front of the whole team, you mercilessly laid into your star player! You displayed a hot-headed man with a hair-trigger temper. You displayed a man, who above everything else, hated to lose!
Winning
was everything! You berated, you attacked that young man, viciously, Mr. Kramer. To put it bluntly, you chewed his ass royally, you tore him to ribbons! Isn’t that what happened in the dressing room that night, Mr. Kramer?”
“Yes, it is.” Kramer said, his voice almost inaudible.
Ramsey was unrelenting. “I’m sorry, I didn’t
hear
you! What did you say?”
“I said, yes, it is.”
Ramsey threw an enigmatic, half-smile. “Hardly the conduct for the role-model that was expected of you. Hardly the conduct of the ‘hero,’ Mr. Kramer, but, so be it.” As Ramsey crossed toward the jury, Kramer looked after him. He suddenly appeared forlorn, at a loss for words. Ramsey gripped the hand railing and turned to look back at Kramer; he paused for dramatic effect. “Mr. Kramer? Are you a homosexual?”
“No, sir. I am not.”
“The Catholic church has always regarded homosexuality as a vice. Completely unacceptable. Do you agree with that statement, Mr. Kramer?”
“Yes. I do.”
With arms folded, Ramsey walked slowly back to the witness stand. He eyed Kramer with a long, somewhat curious look. “You know, Mr. Kramer? It intrigues me, it baffles me, really, that, as you have testified in this courtroom today, you suspected my client, Father Reiniger, of sexually molesting this ten-year-old boy. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, Mr. Kramer, that you are playing a very dangerous game, here. You are trifling with a man’s reputation. In fact, threatening to
destroy
a man’s reputation. Are you aware of that, Mr. Kramer?”
Kramer’s tone was cool, confident. “Yes. I’m fully aware of that, Mr. Ramsey.”
“You allege, you suspected Father Reiniger of sexually abusing this young boy.” He paused. “I keep asking myself, why in God’s name, didn’t you say something about it? Why didn’t you go to the archbishop? Why didn’t you go to the church hierarchy? Why didn’t you go to somebody? Anybody?”
“I felt I just couldn’t do that.”
When Ramsey spoke again, his voice was low, condescending. “You felt you just couldn’t do that! What a shame, what a pity! The truth is, you know it, and I know it, the truth
is,
it never happened in the first place! This ten-year-old boy doesn’t exist, and you know it! This ten-year-old boy is a
myth!
The bottom line here, Mr. Kramer, is that you are a volatile, hot-headed young man with a short fuse, and a violent temper! And, if I may say so, you are
also
a cold-blooded liar!”
Suddenly, Berkoff jumped up. His eyes flashed. “Your Honor! I
object!
This is outrageous! I
demand
that remark be stricken from the record!”
Ramsey was triumphant, smug. “Consider the remark withdrawn, Your Honor.” He began to return to his seat. “I have no more questions for this witness.”
Judge Baylor’s gaze swept over the courtroom. “Due to the lateness of the hour, he said, “this court will adjourn and reconvene at ten o’clock, on Monday morning.”
--11--
“The People call Ms. Virginia Lombardi!” David Berkoff’s voice sounded clear and resonant as it echoed throughout the crowded courtroom. Officer Delgado, the young, uniformed bailiff, opened the double doors leading to the rotunda. Virginia Lombardi stepped inside and began to make her way toward the bench. Once again, she was heavily made-up. She wore an attractive, flowered, silk dress, white stiletto-heels; she wore an array of gold, costume jewelry, a large, white, leather handbag. The spectators were slightly stunned by the huge, wide-brimmed hat she was wearing; the brim swathed with white roses. As she was being sworn-in, Judge Baylor, who looked mildly askance, was quietly speculating: Ms. Lombardi’s “get-up” was much more suited for a summer garden party, than a criminal courtroom. The jury members eyed her curiously as she seated herself at the witness stand. She was self-assured. Somewhat haughty.
“Will you please state your name, for the record?” Berkoff said, as he approached the stand.
“Virginia Lombardi. But, nobody calls me Virginia. They call me
Ginny.”
“How old are you, Ms. Lombardi?”
She was reluctant to answer. “I’m forty-five, give or take a few years.”
“For the record, I need you to be specific, ma’am.”
“I’m forty-nine,” she said, lowering her voice.
“Uh-huh. And, where do you reside, ma’am?”
“557 Tamarack Lane, Alta Vista, California.”
“And what is your association with the defendant, Ms. Lombardi?”
Virginia’s voice rose. “Let’s get one thing straight here, Mr. Berkoff! It’s
Mrs.
Lombardi, not
Ms!”
Berkoff smiled. “Oh. Excuse me. What is
your
association with Father Reiniger, Mrs. Lombardi?”
“I was Father Reiniger’s housekeeper.”
“Primarily, what were your duties as Father Reiniger’s housekeeper?”
She shrugged. “Well, the usual things. I kept the rectory clean. I washed his clothes. I cooked.”
“I see,” Berkoff said. “Approximately how long did you work for Father Reiniger?”
“Oh, I’d say a little over a year,” she answered, hesitantly.
“Are you a Catholic yourself, Mrs. Lombardi?”
She seemed affronted. “I am surprised you would ask me that question, Mr. Berkoff. Of course, I am a Catholic!”
During the course of the last half-dozen questions and answers, Berkoff noticed that the members of the jury were straining and moving around in their seats; because of the large, flowered hat Mrs. Lombardi was wearing, they were having difficulty seeing her face. Berkoff moved in very close to the stand, almost touching her. “Mrs. Lombardi,” he said, close to a whisper, “will you please favor the court and remove your hat? It’s a lovely hat, ma’am, but the jury members are having trouble seeing you.” He turned to face Judge Baylor. “Would you agree with that request, Your Honor?”
“Yes, I would agree, Counselor, it’s a lovely hat and I agree with you that Mrs. Lombardi should remove it. Now, can we get on with it?”
Mrs. Lombardi smiled, almost apologetically and quickly removed her hat. She laid it down on the stand in front of her.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Berkoff said, and there was long moment of silence. Then: “Mrs. Lombardi, I would like to go back to the night of Saturday, July 17
th
, of this year. Do you recall that particular night, Mrs. Lombardi?”
“I happen to recall that night very well,” she said, slow and even.
“Tell us in your own words, what transpired, what went
on
that night?”
“Well,” she said, relishing the attention, “Father had asked the altar boys for a few volunteers. He wanted to have the meeting room, the club room, in the basement of the rectory re-painted. Five or six boys showed up. As I recall, Father had forgotten I’d stayed over. I had some work to catch up on. No matter. About three hours after the boys had arrived, I decided to go downstairs with some soft drinks, you know, soda pop. What I saw when I got down there, shocked me. It really shocked me! Here they were, all sitting around eating pizza, drinking
beer,
smoking
cigarettes,
and the language they were using! I couldn’t believe it!”
“Was Father Reiniger drinking beer and smoking, also?”
“Yes. He was.”
“What happened then, Mrs. Lombardi?”
“Well, I was so shocked, I was so dumbfounded, I couldn’t think of a thing to say! And that’s very unusual for me, Mr. Berkoff. Just ask my husband!”
There was a wave of snickers throughout the courtroom. Baylor gaveled them down. “Quiet, please! Let’s get on with it, Mr. Berkoff!”
Berkoff tried to cover a smile. “What happened next?”
“I knew from the minute Father laid eyes on me, he wanted me out of there. Father has a way of turning cold, deadly serious, when he wants to. He looked me straight in the eye, and if looks could kill, Mr. Berkoff, I’d be dead right now. I knew it was time for me to leave. I laid the sodas down, and went back upstairs.”
“My understanding, Mrs. Lombardi, is that you
left
the rectory, shortly after that?”
“Yes. That’s correct. But when I got home, I discovered I’d forgotten something or other, my address book, my house keys, don’t remember what it was. So, I drove back to the rectory.”
“Do you recall what time that was, ma’am?”
“Yes. It was quarter to twelve. Almost midnight.”
“Go on, Mrs. Lombardi.”
“I had my own key, so, I let myself in.” She paused. “I found Father Reiniger sitting on the living room couch, drinking wine. He turned around and once again looked me straight in the eye. He said, ‘What do you want, Mrs. Lombardi? What are you doing here?’” She paused again. “I was a little embarrassed. I told him I’d forgotten something. I remember what is was, now. It was my address book. It had a list of telephone numbers in it. I’d promised my sister back in Brooklyn, I’d call her the next morning. She has an unlisted number.”
