Betrayal of Faith

by Mark M Bello

  The clerk called the case, and Father Gerry Bartholomew was brought in through the accessible side door. Walsh walked up to the counsel table and stood next to Bartholomew.

  The research clerk walked up to Blake and handed him a copy of the document he served on the old man. Father Gilbert Moloney was now served with Blake’s subpoena and commanded to appear at the civil trial. The “Voice” was unmasked. Blake was elated. Moloney was furious. Judge Shipper interrupted their thoughts.

  “We’re here to take a plea in the case of State v. Bartholomew, is that correct?” Judge Shipper inquired.

  “It is, Your Honor,” Saunders responded, with appropriate deference and formality.

  “And what are the details of the plea?” the judge queried.

  “May it please the court, Your Honor, Joseph Saunders, assistant Oakland County prosecutor, appearing on behalf of the people?”

  “Craig Walsh, appearing for the defendant, Your Honor,” Walsh chimed in, with equal formality.

  “Your Honor,” Saunders continued, “Defendant Bartholomew was originally charged with two counts of first-degree criminal sexual conduct. After an exhausting investigation and several meetings with the victims, investigating police officers, and representatives of the defendant, we’ve decided to drop the charge of first degree, to accept a guilty plea of criminal sexual conduct, fourth degree.”

  “Fourth degree?” the judge vacillated.

  Great actor, Zack smirked. “That’s correct, Your Honor.”

  “Is that your understanding, Mr. Walsh?” the judge inquired.

  “It is, Your Honor.”

  “Very well, then. Let’s make sure the defendant understands his rights and what he’s doing.” Shipper turned to Bartholomew.

  The judge asked Bartholomew if he understood the charge to which he was pleading guilty. Had the plea been coerced or had the defendant been promised anything in return for the plea? Judge Shipper advised Bartholomew he had an absolute right to trial by jury as guaranteed by the Constitution of the United States. Only the defendant could waive that right. Was this defendant making this plea freely and voluntarily and pleading guilty because he was guilty? Bartholomew answered all the questions appropriately and satisfied Judge Shipper he understood the rights he was giving up and was pleading guilty knowingly and voluntarily.

  Shipper proclaimed: “I’m satisfied this plea is voluntary and is being made because the defendant understands and accepts his guilt.” He faced and addressed Bartholomew and asked, slight contempt in his tone. “Gerry Bartholomew, on the days in question, did you, in fact, engage in the fondling or touching of the genitalia of two minors, Jake Tracey, age twelve, and Kenneth Tracey, age fourteen?”

  “Yes, sir,” the predator admitted.

  Jennifer flinched. To hear Gerry admit even this, his smallest offense, made her blood boil. It was small vindication, but vindication, nonetheless. She envisioned Gerry in prison. She hoped the public was watching. She wanted the whole world to know about Gerry Bartholomew. Zachary told her to relax. He had a surprise for her. She wondered what it was—she hated surprises. The judge continued.

  “I’m holding a presentence report, which recommends three years’ probation and community service, extensive treatment, inpatient or out, in an appropriate mental health facility. Usually, I would withhold sentencing for a sentencing hearing, but I understand both sides have agreed to recommend the court adopt this presentence report, is that correct?”

  “That is correct, Your Honor.” Walsh and Saunders spoke in unison.

  “Very well, then . . .” the judge continued.

  “May it please the court, Your Honor?” Zachary interrupted.

  “Who might you be, sir?” the judge demanded.

  “Zachary Blake, attorney for the victims, Your Honor. The victims’ mother, Mrs. Jennifer Tracey, pursuant to the Victims’ Rights Statute, would like to address the court before sentence is pronounced.”

  “I apologize, Mrs. Tracey. Of course, you may address the court. Please forgive the oversight.” The judge corrected himself, happy to accommodate a voting constituent.

  “Thank you, Your Honor. What you are about to do is not appropriate in this case or for this man. Gerry Bartholomew is a vicious predator of children. He cannot control himself, and the church refuses to control him. They would rather transfer him from town to town and permit his decadent abuse of children, wherever he goes. They’ve had ample opportunity to stop him, to arrange for professional help, to prevent my children and others from becoming victims. Instead, church officials have buried their heads in the sand and made the victims their enemies, while coddling this criminal.

  “This defendant has committed more serious offenses against my boys and others. These offenses are much more severe than those to which he pleads guilty. This defendant has sodomized children. He has raped children. Children in every parish he has been will bear the emotional scars of his betrayal, perhaps for the rest of their lives.

  “Your Honor, you must not ignore his many past and future crimes and victims. You must not return him to Lakes or any other parish. You must hold him accountable for ruining the lives of my children and countless others. You must sentence him to the maximum allowed. You must . . .” Jennifer broke down. Blake cradled her. She buried her head in his chest.

  “Your Honor? Has this plea been accepted? Has Father Bartholomew been found guilty of fourth-degree criminal sexual conduct?” Zachary inquired.

  “Yes, Mr. Blake. Had Mrs. Tracey spoken up earlier . . .” the judge quavered.

  “Mrs. Tracey would like to present one more witness before sentencing is pronounced. Would that be permitted in the interest of justice, Your Honor?”

  Jennifer turned to Zack and whispered, “I would?”

  “Yes, you would,” he whispered back. “The fun’s about to begin. I promised a surprise, didn’t I?”

  “I object, Your Honor. The Victims’ Right Statute does not permit a parade of witnesses. It enables victims to address the court. If this potential witness isn’t a victim, his testimony should be barred,” a terrified Walsh argued.

  “I agree,” Saunders chimed in. “However, Your Honor, I am curious about who the witness is and what he has to say.”

  “This witness’s testimony has a direct bearing on sentencing, Your Honor. Furthermore, he could not testify until Father Bartholomew was found guilty,” Zack explained.

  “Very well then,” Shipper ruled. “I’ll hear the testimony and consider its relevance to sentencing.”

  Zachary motioned to the sheriff’s deputy stationed at the back door. “Bring in the witness, please.”

  The deputy opened the door, and Phillip Jack strolled into the courtroom.

  “Who’s he?” whispered Jennifer.

  “You’ll see,” Zack reassured.

  Bartholomew turned white.

  “State your name for the record please,” the clerk demanded.

  “Phillip Jack.”

  “Your Honor? May I have the witness sworn and ask questions as an officer of the court and attorney for the victims?”

  “I object!” cried Walsh. He now understood why this witness was present. “I object in the most strenuous of terms. This is beyond the scope of Victims’ Rights. This witness is not a victim. As such, he has no relevant testimony to offer.”

  “I agree, Your Honor,” Zack concurred. “This witness is not a victim. However, he has very relevant testimony to offer on the issue of sentencing, and this is a sentencing hearing, is it not? Your Honor, you have discretion in these matters. I guarantee the relevance of this testimony.”

  “I will hear the testimony because it is in my discretion to do so. I will decide its relevance. You may examine, Mr. Blake, on behalf of the victims. The clerk will swear the witness.”

  “Your Honor . . .” Walsh protested.

  “I’ve made my ruling, Mr. Walsh,” Judge Shipper interrupted. “Your objection is on the record. Now, sit down before I find you in
contempt!” His Honor roared.

  Walsh sat down in disgust. Moloney shot him the stink eye.

  “Carry on, Mr. Blake.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor.” Blake turned to Jack.

  “Sir, will you state your occupation for the court?”

  “Yes, I am a detective lieutenant in charge of investigations for the Berea, Ohio Police Department.”

  “And in that occupation, Lieutenant—may I call you, Lieutenant?”

  “Yes.”

  “And in that occupation, sir, did you have occasion to meet the defendant, Gerry Bartholomew?”

  Blake turned to Bartholomew, who looked like he might crawl under a table or jump out the third-story window. Blake hoped for the latter.

  “I did,” Jack responded.

  “Can you tell the court the circumstances of that meeting?”

  “Yes, sir, I sure can.” Jack was eager to expose Bartholomew.

  “Please do so.”

  “Two families from Berea, members of St. Pat’s Church, came to me and charged Bartholomew over there with sexually abusing their sons. I investigated the matter, confirmed, with hard evidence, the charges were true, and arrested Bartholomew on charges of criminal sexual conduct.”

  “What degree of criminal sexual conduct, Lieutenant?”

  “First,” Jack testified.

  “What was the final result of those charges, Lieutenant?”

  “The father copped a plea,” Jack grunted.

  “Copped a plea to what?”

  “Fourth degree, Criminal sexual conduct. Damnedest thing I ever saw. He was permitted to plea off the record. The file was sealed. No jail time, three years’ probation, everyone present was sworn to secrecy. My pension was threatened if I so much as uttered a word that the hearing even took place,” he recounted.

  “Were the victims and their parents present?”

  “Yeah, they were there. Didn’t speak, though. After the hearing, they disappeared. Took off in the middle of the night. No one’s heard from them since. Word is they’ve been bought off and are now running scared.” Jack enjoyed the moment.

  “Scared?”

  “Yeah, until tonight, when Bartholomew pleaded guilty, no police or court officer could disclose the plea bargain. The only people who might have talked were the victims. If they were eliminated, no one could talk.”

  “Objection! This is absurd. Eliminated? Sounds like something out of a Bond movie,” cried Walsh.

  “Yeah, well tell that to Gus, the janitor at St. Pat’s. He turned up dead,” Jack snarled.

  “Your objection, Mr. Walsh, is overruled,” ordered Judge Shipper. “Continue, Mr. Blake. I am finding the lieutenant’s testimony quite interesting. May I also state, for the record, that before accepting this plea, I was assured there was no prior conduct of this sort by this defendant.”

  “I’m sure you were, Your Honor. That’s the church’s MO. Get rid of one charge, go on to the next. Transfer the guy from town to town in the meanwhile,” Zack piled on.

  “Objection!” cried an exacerbated Walsh.

  “Sit down, Mr. Walsh, and don’t get up again,” roared Judge Shipper.

  Walsh sat down in a huff. He looked over to the old priest. Zack caught a glimpse of Moloney’s face. If looks could kill . . .

  “Are you aware of any other charges and convictions against Father Bartholomew, Lieutenant?” Zack inquired.

  “No, but I haven’t checked with authorities at other locations he’s been. I’d need a list of all his previous placements.”

  “You shall have one, Lieutenant,” Judge Shipper commanded. “I’ve heard enough. I’m going to reserve the issue of sentencing until Detective Lieutenant Jack reports back to me regarding his investigation into Father Bartholomew’s prior conduct. Lieutenant, I presume you wish to place the defendant in custody on his probation violation, am I correct?”

  “You are, Your Honor.”

  “Objection! Your Honor!” Walsh screeched.

  “Your objection is noted, Mr. Walsh. The defendant is remanded to the custody of Detective Lieutenant Phillip Jack of the Berea Police Department for incarceration on his probation violation. The lieutenant is to have the defendant brought to my courtroom for further sentencing upon completion of his investigation. I hereby order officials of the church to release to Lieutenant Jack copies of Father Bartholomew’s personnel file with special attention given to locations and parishes where this defendant has previously served. Is that understood, Mr. Walsh?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Any violation of this order will result in contempt of court. The offending party or parties will be spending time in the Oakland County Jail. Am I understood?”

  Walsh sighed. He managed a very quiet, “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Very well, then, we’re adjourned.” The judge pounded his gavel.

  “All rise!” shouted the bailiff. The judge rose and left the courtroom.

  Zachary looked at Jennifer. She was beaming. “Blake, you done good,” she gushed. Then, she hugged him, in open court.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Micah and the two families arrived at City Airport and were greeted at the arrival gate by a limousine driver, arranged by Love Investigations. Micah instructed the driver to drive to the Doubletree Suites Hotel in Southfield. The driver headed west on I-94 to I-696 west and into the Southfield area. They passed the impressive Town Center complex, where Zachary Blake’s office was located in his heyday. Micah pointed out the buildings to the families. The Doubletree was a short distance northwest of the Town Center complex. Love checked the families in under their aliases. He advised them to stay as close to the hotel as possible and promised to return shortly to check on them. He contacted his office and arranged for around-the-clock surveillance. He reentered the limo and directed the driver to Blake’s eight-mile office. Zack and Jennifer were returning from court as the limo pulled into the pot-holed parking lot.

  “Hey, Counselor, how go the wars?” Micah inquired.

  “Micah! Damn it, man, I told you to call me!” Zack fumed. “Where have you been? What’s going on? Did you talk to them? Will they testify? What—”

  “Hold your horses, Zack. Let me explain.” Micah adopted a pensive posture and told Zack everything—the arrest of the Voice’s surveillance team, the Disney World gambit, the airport switcheroo, the families’ current location, everything. Zack had to be impressed.

  “Disney World, huh? Wow, Micah! Brilliant! Finding a family at a Disney resort would be like finding a needle in a haystack.”

  “You are correct, sir. I am a genius,” Love agreed. He turned to Jennifer. “And how are you, madam?”

  “I’m wonderful, Micah,” she giggled. “Tonight has been filled with nothing but good news. Zack promised you were the best, and he was right! Thank you for everything.” She planted a kiss on his cheek. Micah blushed.

  “You’re quite welcome,” he managed. “What happened in court?”

  “Oh, Micah!” Jennifer exclaimed. “It was wonderful. I’ll let Zack explain.”

  Zack replayed the court proceedings for Micah.

  “Worked like a charm, just like you planned, huh? They had no idea Jack was testifying? Amazing! All of this undercover, cloak-and-dagger stuff, all that money, and it all came together, like clockwork. I’ve got to hand it to us. We do good work!” Micah boasted.

  “It ain’t over ‘till it’s over,” Zack cautioned. “We’ve still got a week before trial. We must keep the MacLean and O’Connell families hidden and safe.”

  “Don’t worry, Zack. Everything’s under control,” Micah assured.

  “I mean it, Micah. We can’t get overconfident. These families must testify. The plea in Berea is powerful stuff, but it still doesn’t prove the church knew about the prior incident. The file was sealed. They could argue Gerry worked it out for himself, with his lawyer, and the church never knew anything.”

  “That’s bullshit, Zack. No one would believe that,” Mi
cah snorted.

  “Why not? With no one to testify to a church payoff, a jury might believe anything. The families must testify. Their testimony and Jack’s are the keys to success,” Zack insisted.

  “How did the Detective Lieutenant perform in court?” Micah wondered.

  “He was great,” Jennifer beamed. “So was Zack. The judge was all set to rubber-stamp the sentence agreement until Lieutenant Jack walked in. A few questions and answers later, presto! Probation turns into at least five years. You should have been there, Micah. It was wonderful!”

  “I’m sure it was, Jennifer. Well, I’ve got to get back to the hotel and check on my surveillance teams,” Micah indicated. “I think I might move one of the couples. Keep them separate, you know. How’s that sound?”

  “Sounds smart,” Zack agreed. “Take every precaution.”

  “All right, then. I’ll check with you in the morning.”

  Micah took the limo back to the hotel. He informed the driver he would no longer need transportation, paid him, gave him a large tip, and sent him on his way.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Micah went to the eighth floor of the hotel where the families were staying in adjoining rooms. He found them together watching television. One guard was with them. Two others were in the adjoining room.

  Micah didn’t like switching things around, but Zack was the man in charge. “Listen, I think it’s best to split you up. Put you in two different hotels.”

  “Why?” Mr. O’Connell protested. “Things seem perfectly fine here.”

  “And won’t that stretch you a bit thin?” Mrs. MacLean added.

  Micah rubbed his chin. “We’re just being safe. I’ll make a few calls, see what I can put together.” He motioned to the guard, who joined Micah in the second room. Two guards in the adjoining room were also watching television, but not the same kind. They watched the lobby, seventh-floor, and eighth-floor video from the equipment they set up upon arrival.