Betrayal of Justice Read online

  BETRAYAL

  OF

  FAITH

  MARK M. BELLO

  A Zachary Blake Legal Thriller

  Copyright 2016 Mark M. Bello

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews and other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, and web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author.

  Published by 8Grand Publications

  Printed in the United States of America

  This book is dedicated to Betty, Dianne, and their sons, whose experiences and bravery inspired it; you are in my thoughts, still, after all these years.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Epilogue

  Betrayal of Justice

  Other Books in the Series

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  It was a beautiful spring day in Michigan. Flowers were beginning to bloom, and buds were blossoming on once-barren tree branches. The snow disappeared for another season, and the temperature climbed above sixty degrees for the first time. Jennifer Tracey drove her 2013 Chevy Tahoe south on Farmington Road toward the church. She thought, what a great weekend for a camping trip. The boys needed this. I hope they like Father Gerry.

  She pulled into the parking lot of Our Lady of the Lakes Church and School, parked, exited the old truck, and headed for the rectory. She spotted the group almost immediately. Actually, she spotted a bunch of backpacks, camping equipment, pop bottles, shoes, socks, and other debris strewn across the lawn of the rather impressive two-story brick home. She was the first parent to arrive, not surprising considering she was a half-hour early.

  Jennifer was excited to see the boys. This was their first overnight since Father Bill’s transfer. Father Bill was the only man the boys warmed up to since their dad, Jim, passed away. My God! Has it been three years already? She remembered the day of the accident like it was yesterday—a phone call from the plant with shocking news and the rush to Botsford Hospital. The family gathered for an all-night, prayer-dominated vigil until, finally, the doctor came out of surgery shaking his head—“I’m terribly sorry. We did all we could.”

  She remembered trying to explain to the boys, nine and eleven, that their father was called to heaven and that God worked in mysterious ways. Jake, her sensitive nine-year-old, wanted to know if he could visit. Kenny, her eleven-year-old, sat stunned, staring at the sky with piercing green eyes, wondering why the Lord chose to take his father when he needed him most. Life seemed so unfair.

  Jim’s loss was incredibly hard on the boys. They were bitter and sullen until they met Father Bill. Bill transferred from a parish in Pennsylvania when Jim’s accident occurred. After Jim’s death, Bill made the boys his special project and, in a short time, became something akin to a ‘substitute’ father. He took the boys to Detroit Tiger ball games, played ball with them, took them camping, and even let them sleep overnight at the rectory. They became altar boys and were beginning to adjust to life without their father reasonably well. Then, one day last month, Father Bill came by the house and announced he’d been transferred to a parish in Virginia. He spent three years in Michigan, and it was time to move on. The boys may as well have heard Father Bill had died, like their dad. Father Bill’s farewell celebration was more like a wake. He took the boys aside and tried to explain that he was required to do God’s work wherever the church sent him. He said he’d try to visit as often as possible, but the boys were unconvinced. The looks on their faces when Father Bill drove off were almost as sad as the day they heard the news of their father’s death.

  That was why this outing with Father Gerry was so important. Gerry was Bill’s replacement and had been at Lakes—the parish nickname—less than a month. This camping trip was Gerry’s first chance to spend extended time with the boys away from parish responsibilities. Jennifer knew it would take some time, but she hoped the boys would at least like him.

  She climbed the porch steps and knocked on the door of the large bricked colonial. It was a typical suburban Michigan home—two stories with red, white, and black reclaimed brick and white aluminum siding. The grounds were massive since the house stood on church property. The lot was heavily treed, and the grass had been freshly trimmed. Jennifer could smell the fresh-cut grass, one of the beautiful smells of spring in Michigan.

  Father Gerry came to the door and invited her in. Boys were running all over the house, chasing each other. The noise was deafening. Jennifer scanned the crowd but could not locate Jake or Kenny.

  “Nice to see you again, Jenny,” Gerry chirped.

  “Nice to see you too, Father. How was the outing?”

  “The boys had a great time. They’re still having a great time, as you can see. Jake and Kenny are in the backyard. I’ll go fetch them for you.”

  “Oh, don’t trouble yourself, Father. You have your hands full here. I’ll get them.”

  “No trouble at all, Jenny. Wait here. I’ll be right back with the boys.”

  Jennifer would have preferred to get the boys, given the noise level in the house. Instead, she walked out onto the front porch to wait in the sunshine. In ‘no ti
me,’ as Jake would say, Father Gerry appeared with her two sons. The contrast between Jake and Kenny and other boys was absolutely startling. Her boys were sullen, gloomy.

  “Here they are, safe and sound,” Father Gerry reported. “Boys, say ‘hi’ to your mom.”

  “Hi, Mom,” Kenny managed, his voice barely audible.

  “Yeah, hi, Mom,” Jake grunted.

  “What’s the matter with you guys?” Gerry inquired. “Did I tire you out that much?” To Jennifer, he advised, “I ran these kids ragged—hiking, calisthenics, canoeing, all night stories, you name it. They’re tired. Take them home and put them to bed. They’ll be fine in the morning.”

  Jennifer was shocked. The other boys were none the worse for wear. What was wrong with hers?

  “Thank you, Father,” she managed. “I’ll do just that.”

  The Tracey family climbed into the wagon, and Jennifer headed for home. The boys sat in the backseat together. Usually, they fought over who would sit in front. Jennifer’s concern level increased.

  “Did you guys have a good time?”

  No answer.

  “How was Father Gerry? He seems quite nice. Is he as good a camp director as Father Bill?”

  No answer. Jennifer was almost in a panic.

  She adjusted her rearview mirror to look at her two silent sons. Kenny was glaring at Jake fiercely with one finger to his lips, silently ordering him quiet. A single tear ran down Kenny’s cheek. The family drove home in silence. Something was terribly wrong.

  Chapter Two

  Father Gerry Bartholomew was enjoying a conversation with new Lakes members Spencer and Sherry Reed and their teenage boys, David and Justin. The Reeds lost a child to cancer and were trying to organize a charity event for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital, where their Jeffrey lost his final battle with the dreaded disease. The family was touring the vast campus of Lakes, enjoying the beautiful spring weather. The boys were tossing a football. The ball eluded one of the boys and rolled up to Gerry. He picked it up and launched a perfect spiral to David. David glanced at Justin with an expression of surprise at Gerry’s quarterbacking proficiency.

  “Nice throw,” Justin marveled. “Where did you learn to throw a football like that?”

  “Oh,” Gerry explained, “I played football at the seminary, and I coach our parish team in the local junior football league. You guys should try out. We have many other activities, including camping—my personal favorite—swimming, baseball, and choir. Can you guys sing? We also do a lot of charity work, especially with kids your age. Charity is one way God gives us to demonstrate our love and compassion for others. It is but one of the many miracles of pleasure God wants us to experience. After all, love of man is love of God. Don’t you agree?

  “Doing what we love makes us happy, and I adore bonding with happy teenagers. We have a close-knit group. Much of my time here at Lakes is spent with our young people, and I love it. We’d love to have you join us.” Gerry was thoughtful and spiritual. When he spoke, one could almost hear the voice of God.

  The boys promised to consider Gerry’s offer, and their parents were excited by the prospect of their boys participating. Gerry walked them to their car and waved as it disappeared down the road leading from the parish to the main highway.

  Gerry Bartholomew was recently the assistant pastor of St. Patrick’s Parish in Ohio. He was thirty-six, approximately six feet tall and well built. He had dark brown, almost black eyes. One could hardly make out his pupils. He had long brown hair and a pale, almost milk-like complexion. He had two major passions: camping and teenagers. His sermons were powerful and memorable. He was charming—everywhere he’d been, parishioners loved him. The father of a fourteen-year-old boy once loaned him his camper to take his son and some other boys on an overnight camping trip. Activities and interactions with teenagers were the highlights of his priesthood.

  Gerry didn’t want to leave Ohio or St. Patrick’s, but the church hierarchy decided it was time for him to move on. He fought reassignment. His work with parish teenagers was unappreciated and misunderstood. Gerry Bartholomew was sure he was going to be assigned out of parish work, perhaps to do charity work overseas, or to counsel the frail or sick.

  In fact, his personnel records contained copious notes with strong recommendations that he receive these types of assignments. To his surprise, the notes were ignored. Gerry was placed at Our Lady of the Lakes. He was in Michigan. There were lush campsites all over the state, excellent sites within twenty-five miles of the parish. There, he met the Reed brothers as well as Jacob and Kenneth Tracey. Gerry Bartholomew was beside himself with joy.

  Chapter Three

  “Order! Order!” the Voice commanded. “Come to order.”

  The group of five men was silent almost immediately. The room was dimly lit, which kept its opulence from intruding on their meeting.

  “We have assembled again because we have another crisis at the parish level.”

  “What now?”

  “Father Gerry has been active again.”

  “Shit! When? Where?” The member was angry and perplexed.

  “Gerry was recently transferred, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wasn’t the placement supposed to be away from children?”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “Well, then what the hell happened?” Another member demanded.

  “I don’t know—we’re still checking who made the placement and why.”

  “This is disastrous. I presume the victim was male?”

  “Victims, plural—two boys, fourteen and twelve, it happened on a camping retreat.”

  “They sent Gerry on a camping retreat? Didn’t they read our report?” Unbelievable!

  “Obviously not,” the Voice sighed.

  “What do you propose?”

  “I think we should stay calm and ascertain the facts before deciding on a course of action.”

  “Makes sense.” Calm began to rule. The Voice was pleased common sense would prevail.

  “Where did this happen?”

  “In Farmington Hills, Michigan, the Detroit Division.”

  “Does the pastor know?”

  “He’s the one who contacted me. He overheard some kids.”

  “Whom do we have in Detroit?”

  “We have a top-notch investigating firm, Parks and Associates, and a silk-stocking law firm, Brodman, Longworth and Darling.”

  “Get them on this. We need serious damage control this time.”

  “We should have defrocked him after the first time.”

  “The situation hasn’t changed. There’s still a shortage. We have too many parishes and too few priests. Besides, Gerry’s psychiatrist gave us the green light.”

  “Yeah, as long as the placement didn’t involve kids,” a member snarled.

  “It’s hard to place someone in parish work that avoids kids.”

  “How about an all-girls school?”

  “Funny.”

  “No, seriously, why parish work? Why not a teaching position at a seminary or something?”

  “I agree with you. Someone botched the placement. We’re looking into it. The mandate was clear, yet ignored, and the opposite occurred. The process is flawed. We need a detailed review.”

  “Issues for another day. For now, get the law firm and the investigator together with the pastor. We escaped inexpensively on Gerry’s last one. If anyone discovers this placement followed that one, the sky’s the limit.”

  “Whatever happens, the defense fund can handle it.”

  “Has the Holy One been informed?”

  “Didn’t see the need. Let’s have the specialists handle the situation and see where we are afterward.”

  “Another ‘accident’ perhaps?” Heads turned to the speaker then back to the Voice. Would he agree?

  “Premature at this point,” the Voice declared. “We’ll keep all options open. Agreed? All in favor?”

  “Aye.”

  “Al
l opposed?”

  Silence.

  Chapter Four

  Jennifer Tracey and her two sons lived in a small tri-level in Farmington Hills. Money was always tight but following Jim’s death and the subsequent lawsuit and settlement, the money dwindled, and it became increasingly difficult to make ends meet. Jennifer worked as an editor for a neighborhood newspaper and grossed about forty-five thousand per year. Her house payment, utilities, groceries, taxes, and religious school chewed up her spendable income.

  Widowed at thirty-seven, she had platinum-blond hair, high cheekbones, and peaches-and-cream skin. She could pass for twenty-seven with signs of age beginning to show around her sparkling blue eyes. She had a broad, sensual mouth with full lips. At five foot three, her legs were slender and athletic from daily aerobics. Jim was the only man she’d ever been interested in. The couple met in high school and dated through college at Oakland University in Rochester, where she received her bachelor’s degree in English, and he received his in engineering.

  Jennifer wanted to marry Jim from the moment they met, but he was the voice of reason. He wanted his degree and a good job first. Jim would support her without parental assistance; thank you very much. He was a very proud and good man. She missed him terribly. She was beautiful, and there were many potential suitors. However, the thought of dating made her cringe. A couple of dates ended with her apologizing to the men. They claimed to understand. She didn’t care either way.

  The only thing she cared about was the welfare of her boys, Jim’s boys. Two weeks after the camping trip, they were still distraught.

  She knocked on their bedroom door and walked in without an invitation.

  “I didn’t hear anybody say, ‘Come in,’ did you, Jake?” snapped Kenny.

  “Well . . . uh . . . I’m so sorry,” stammered Jennifer, surprised at her son’s tone.

  “Yeah,” Jake grumbled, looking at his brother for direction.

  Jennifer collected herself and scanned the room. It was a boys’ room, to be sure, but it’s disaster level at that moment irritated her almost as much as the boys’ attitude.