The Mirror Apocalypse

by John Ayang

  “Objection! Counsel is proposing ideas and words for the witness,” Stacy called out.

  “Overruled,” the judge replied. Then she addressed Edidiong, “Answer the question.”

  “My wife and I went to him immediately after Mass to express our disappointment at such treatment,” Edidiong responded.

  “What did he say?” Patrick Turner prodded.

  “He was very arrogant,” Edidiong continued. “First, he told us that we had broken Church law by conceiving a child in vitro, thereby disobeying him. I pointed out that that was the only way we could effectively conceive a child after twelve years of struggling. He said he had asked us to adopt a child, but we badly needed a child of our own, and, besides, the red tape of adopting a child, coupled with all the hoops we were required to jump through, as well as the uncertainty about the health and personality of the child we would have adopted, were not worth the trouble when we had an easier and cost-effective means at our disposal.”

  “Continue,” Patrick Turner prompted. “Did he agree with you?”

  “No, Sir,” Edidiong replied. “He said we had done something immoral and that we were not worthy enough to receive Holy Communion. I asked him why my wife and I were the only ones who were branded immoral when there have been others who have used the same method we used to conceive and have not been so treated.”

  “Did he ask to know who these others were?” Patrick Turner asked.

  “No, Sir. He said I was just making assumptions, that he did not know anybody in the parish who openly flouted Church teaching as my wife and I did. He said that ours was public knowledge, and that when he comes across a case similar to ours, he would put the couple under the same sanctions.”

  “Did he challenge you to name the couples you alleged were in the same position as you and your wife, but were not sanctioned the way you were?” Patrick Turner continued very methodically.

  “No, he dismissed us and would not even listen to us again.”

  “And do you, in fact, know any such couple who conceived a child using the same IVF method you used, but was allowed and, in fact, is still allowed to receive Holy Communion in the same Church?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Edidiong answered, confidently.

  “Dr. Eshiet,” Patrick Turner called, turning and facing away from his witness in the usual way that lawyers sometimes do to put a dramatic effect into their interrogation when they are about to nail the point of victory. He paced a couple of feet and stood facing the jury box, not looking at any of them in particular. “How, if I may ask, did you come by this knowledge about the couple in question?”

  “I was part of the team that worked with the specimen gametes that were used to conceive the child,” Edidiong replied, somewhat proudly, looking straight at the jury box, also. “In fact, the couple is here in court and that child, a grown man, is here, also.”

  “What did you say?” Patrick Turner turned abruptly and faced Edidiong. “Can you repeat that again? You are quite sure the couple is here inside this court right now?”

  “The couple is here in court with the son they conceived using IVF,” Edidiong replied firmly, sitting up and looking straight at his attorney.

  “And they are members of the same church you attend, Our Lady Queen of Peace Catholic Church?”

  “Yes, Sir. They are,” Edidiong replied, bobbing his head to and fro for emphasis.

  “And they are still receiving Holy Communion and are not sanctioned the way you and your wife were?”

  “Yes, Sir. They are still receiving Holy Communion and, no, they have not been subjected to the same treatment.”

  “Dr. Eshiet,” Patrick Turner called, putting more drama into his movements as he turned on the balls of his feet to face the full court. “Can you point out this couple to the court, so that the court may know the special couple that receives this privileged treatment?”

  Everybody shuffled excitedly with eyes darting about in expectation. Stacy frowned and vacillated between objecting and letting the process continue. She realized his opponent was not under any obligation to reveal his star witness. All he was required to do was share evidence. Fr. McCarthy was equally alarmed. He looked around at the audience, looked at Edidiong, and then back at the audience. He looked at Stacy and both looked at the audience behind the prosecution desk, expecting to catch a tell-tale clue of the mystery couple that was about to be the prosecution’s star witness. Everyone sitting on that side of the court looked the same as everyone else, shuffling and expectant. Stacy was about to ask Fr. McCarthy if he actually did not know about such a couple, but decided to keep calm. After all, she had grilled him on that before, and even asked Greg to do some behind-the-scenes research for her. He came up with no information about any other parishioner who used IVF to conceive and managed to escape being sanctioned by Fr. McCarthy. But looking at the plaintiff in the dock stating with absolute confidence that such a couple was indeed in the courtroom at that material moment was not a comfortable experience for Stacy.

  “Yes, Dr. Eshiet. The court is waiting,” Patrick Turner prompted again, looking as though he was about to burst with the expected excitement.

  “That‘s the couple,” Edidiong pointed to the defense desk. “Stephen and Hannah McCarthy, sitting behind their IVF-conceived son and priest, the Reverend Cletus McCarthy.”

  “No! No!” Everyone turned to the single figure who shouted. Hannah McCarthy had fallen from her seat and fainted. A stampede of helpers rushed to help. The whole court broke into one big noisy confusion. Fr. Cletus McCarthy stood up, dazed and confused. He protested, unheeded, and to nobody in particular, “No! I was adopted. I was not conceived by IVF.” But even to him, his protestations sounded hollow and unconvincing.

  The din that erupted in the courthouse threw the court into such pandemonium that it was almost impossible to control. Pressmen and their cameras struggled frantically to get a good shot of the McCarthys, especially Fr. McCarthy, while reporters stampeded over each other to get to the lobby of the court to call in the latest development to their papers, TV, and radio stations. Judge Anieno Montgomery broke two hammers and split a gavel, banging furiously and several times, shouting, “Order in the court!” The bailiff disappeared into the judge’s chambers to fetch her a fresh set of hammers and gavel. For almost two minutes, the commotion continued, and, as is the case with such situations, started dying down on its own. Judge Montgomery was finally able to assert her authority and reclaim her court. A handful of security policemen that were called in to arrest the situation finally got the reporters and their camera crews under control. The group of sympathizers that rushed to help a fainting Mrs. McCarthy reluctantly dispersed back to their seats while the latter continued to sob and snivel, with her face buried in her husband’s chest. Stephen McCarthy was still trying to console his wife, rocking her gently and assuring her that everything was going to be okay. Judge Montgomery reminded Edidiong to maintain his seat in the dock for cross examination.

  “Miss, Donovan,” Judge Montgomery called. “The plaintiff is still in the dock. Do you wish to cross examine him?” She banged the gavel for the final time to achieve absolute silence.

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Stacy replied, trying her utmost best to look composed, though inside, she was rattled to her core. “I just have one question.”

  “Dr. Eshiet,” She looked straight at Edidiong and asked, “How much money are you asking and looking forward to receiving in this case?”

  “Objection!” Patrick Turner said, “Counsel is arguing beside the point. My client is suing for equal treatment, not for money.”

  “Overruled,” Judge Montgomery ruled.

  “I am suing because I was discriminated against,” Edidiong replied with an edge to his voice that he barely controlled. “I am well established and my interest in this case is not money, but fairness and equality.”

  “Great values, Dr. Esh
iet,” Stacy patronized. “Fairness and equality. Great values! May I remind you, though, that in the statement of your suit you are asking for five million dollars in damages, but since, according to you now, in the full hearing of the court, you assert that you are well established and your interest in this case, quote, is not money, unquote, we take it that your statement in the hearing of the jury supersedes your earlier demand. Since you have used privileged information that was supposed to be confidential, to expose the reverend gentleman to ridicule and get even, can you give your word that in fairness you will walk away from the case without asking for any monetary payment, since your interest in the case is not money?”

  “Objection!” Patrick Turner bolted upright again in protest. “Your Honor, it is not clear where Counsel’s line of questioning is leading.”

  “Your Honor, information about a person’s process of conception is supposed to be privileged and confidential,” Stacy rejoined. “The plaintiff having been privy to such information by virtue of his having been part of the team that, quote, worked with the gametes used to conceive the child, unquote, has decided to blatantly and very unethically violate that privilege and use that information to his advantage, and without permission from the couple or the child in question. The motive for that can be nothing else except money. Since he denies that that is his motive, the question is: Who is asking for the five million dollars?”

  “Your Honor, Counsel is introducing confusion into the matter of the case. Such information is not privileged or confidential when needed to prove a case of injustice such as my client suffered,” Patrick Turner rebutted.

  “Says who and stated in which penal code?” Stacy countered.

  Judge Montgomery banged her gavel, “Enough! Both of you!” She commanded with authority. “Approach! Immediately!”

  The two combatant counsels approached the bench, and Judge Montgomery proceeded to scold them, “I will not have any unruly altercations in my courtroom. You must proceed in this case with civility or I will find both of you in contempt of court. Is that clear?”

  “Your Honor…” Patrick Turner began and was cut short.

  “Is that clear?” Judge Montgomery addressed him directly.

  “Yes, Your Honor,” he replied grudgingly.

  “Your Honor, in light of the claim by the plaintiff, may I request an adjournment of this case?” Stacy prayed. “I need time to gather more evidence to be able to answer that novel claim that has been sprung on us.”

  “Go back to your desks!” Judge Montgomery ordered. She banged her gavel one more time to quiet down the muted din that had broken out again. It was evident that the court audience was still agog with excitement after the bold statement of Dr. Edidiong Eshiet. Some were still craning their necks to catch the reaction of the McCarthys, and a good look at Fr. McCarthy himself.

  “This court will now go into recess for ten minutes,” Judge Montgomery announced. She left the bench to go into her chambers, inviting Stacy and Patrick to follow. “Come into my chambers, both of you.”

  The rest of the court erupted again into raucous excitement. Stephen McCarthy escorted his wife out. Fr. McCarthy watched Stacy go into the judge’s chambers and decided he needed to be with his family during that short break. He was still dazed at the turn of events, and refused to give deep thought to his plight just immediately. He knew that what had just happened in the courtroom that late morning was an event of great impact, not only for him, but for the Church, as well. It was a jolting revelation, that he was conceived via IVF. And there he was, a Catholic priest, stoutly defending Church teaching and opposing the very method by which he came into the world. Was it true? Was he conceived via IVF? Why did his parents hide this information from him? Why would they hide it from him? Why did they keep telling him over the years that he was adopted?

  As he got up from his seat to make his way to the door, he was swarmed by a pack of reporters asking harsh questions and training microphones at his face. The flashlight from cameras snapping him almost blinded him. He felt vulnerable and betrayed. With Stacy not at his side, he responded to every question with, “no comment” or “ask my attorney.” The reporters wouldn’t let off, but dogged his steps all the way out of the courthouse to the veranda. He looked up and saw that his father and mother were suffering the same mobbing treatment. He noticed that they were heading toward a car that had pulled up. Someone grabbed him by the shoulder and forcefully turned him around, walking him in the opposite direction. It was Fr. Brady Callahan. As they descended the few steps to the curb, he saw Fr. Polanski waiting in the open door of the driver’s side of his car. A look of genuine concern was written all over his face. Fr. Brady opened the back door and all but pushed him inside.

  “Get in, Fr. Nick. Let’s get out of here before they lynch you.” He went over to the opposite side and got in beside Fr. McCarthy. Fr. Polanski eased the car into traffic and drove away with a swarm of reporters falling off behind them. “The Cardinal sent us to …well, kind of rescue you. Sister Caroline Ellis, OP, was sent to monitor the process incognito. She was the one who called the Cardinal as soon as that infamous allegation was made,” Fr. Brady announced, somewhat gushingly. Fr. McCarthy made no comments. He was still stunned as they turned out of Congress Street onto Dallas, from where they headed for Fannin and San Jacinto.

  The court convened again after ten minutes. Everyone took their seat and the bailiff called the court to order as the judge walked to the bench. She sat and everyone sat down. Stacy remained standing, but the seat where her client sat was vacant. His parents were also conspicuously missing from their seats. Dr. Edidiong was escorted back to the dock and reminded that he was still under oath.

  “Counsel may proceed with cross examination,” Judge Montgomery called, her voice slightly trailing on looking up to see that two pews behind Stacy were empty. The entire McCarthy clan had decided not to come back into court, but to head home to sort out what had happened. Stacy was reading a text message from her phone. She eventually looked up and made a request.

  “Your Honor, may I approach?”

  “Certainly,” Judge Montgomery granted.

  Patrick Turner watched unperturbed. He knew why Stacy requested to approach, and waited for the inevitable pronouncement which he was sure Judge Montgomery would make in deference to the defense counsel’s request. He would do the same in that situation.

  “Your Honor, I think Mrs. McCarthy is in very bad shape. I just got a text message that she is running a temperature. As you can see, the entire family, including my client, are absent right now. I request for adjournment until I find out what is happening with my client, and his mother. I guess the sudden and cruel disclosure of the plaintiff caught them off guard, as it did everyone. I request, if it pleases the court, for an adjournment,” Stacy prayed the judge.

  Judge Montgomery beckoned to Patrick Turner and informed him of Stacy’s request and asked, “What is your comment?” more for his acceptance rather than his objection. Patrick Turner shrugged and replied that he had no objection. “Alright, Miss Donovan. I will grant your request. Both of you can go back to your desks.” She banged her gavel to quiet the muted din and announced that due to the trauma of the situation for the defendant and his inability to continue for the day, the court stood adjourned until after the Holidays, precisely, January 8, 2013.

  In the Chancery conference room, on the second floor, where Fr. Brady, Fr. Polanski, and Fr. McCarthy were waiting for the Cardinal, everyone was too excited to sit down. Fr. Polanski tried to make small talk to cheer his friend, but failed, as the latter stood very introverted and quietly looking through the west window at the fleet of vehicles crowding the BMW dealership parking lot below. He was still virtually blank and seemed to be contented to remain in that mental twilight zone till he could be by himself. Fr. Brady, nervous and fidgety as usual, and not knowing what to do or say while waiting, stood by the coffee urn pretend
ing to make coffee. Then he called out, “anybody for coffee?” The others both declined with a curt ‘no,’ not really having any appetite for victuals or snacks at that moment. Sr. Caroline Ellis walked in, having followed them from the courthouse five minutes after they drove away. She announced that the Cardinal would be in with them any minute. She went to the coffee urn and poured herself the stale dregs of lukewarm black coffee, which she held more as a comforting prop than for something to drink.

  What happened was so abruptly novel that nobody knew how to react, let alone what to say to support or console Fr. McCarthy, who was at the center of it all. They had thought the suit’s discrimination claim was a non-issue since the thorough background inquiry Stacy conducted had produced no other couple who claimed they had used IVF, but escaped Church sanctions. Everyone believed Stacy was going to ‘walk through’ this case, as with two previous cases which involved workplace discrimination, and she led the Church to victory. This one was different. The defendant himself was the evidence against himself. If it turned out to be true that he himself was conceived via in vitro and his parents were not denied Communion, then he was guilty of discrimination of the nepotistic kind. What was Stacy going to do? How was she going to handle it? Would she somehow produce a white furry rabbit from her defense attorney’s hat, and lead the Church to victory again, to the surprise and cheers of everyone?

  “Good morning, everyone,” the Cardinal greeted them in his usual booming baritone, walking in with a flourish of authority, with the Seminary Rector and moral theologian, Fr. Paul Tram Tung, in tow. “Please, take a seat, and don’t look so woebegone, as though Jesus had been crucified again,” he added, drawing an uneasy laughter from everyone. “I know in a certain way, this is a crucifixion, and a very intriguing one at that, given the novelty of it all.” He took the seat at the head of the desk. “But the good Lord will provide the way out. He instructed the apostles to not worry about what to say when brought before the Sanhedrin. ‘It will be the Spirit of your Father speaking through you.’ Our faith is being tested here, and certainly, Fr. Cletus’s faith, but I am confident that God will vindicate His Church as He has already given a sign. I was about to place a call to Fr. Tung to meet with me, and as I reached for the phone, there he was at my door. Isn’t that a miracle?” The Cardinal asked rhetorically. “And Bishop Montano, the Chancellor, is due back today from his visit with Cardinal Dolan in New York. As a matter of fact, he may be here any minute. So….” He looked around at the faces present at the table, smiled and added, “This, too, shall pass. Fr. Tung, you look like you want to say something?”