A Rose From The Executioner

by Edward Izzi

  “Oh Brother Barabbas,” the Grand Knight commenced, “thou shall be witness to the eternal laws of the church and an omnipotent disciple of thy holy name of the Lord, and his faithful servant, his Holiness, the Pope. That thy brother and thy servant, Barabbas, be an instrument to thy power and possess thy wisdom to uphold His commandments and blessed sacraments, to keep them holy, and to keep them discrete and surreptitious from all those outside of this holy Society of the Rose Crucifix.”

  “We humbly adore and worship thee and thy unspeakable truths and perfections,” the Grand Knight proclaimed.

  He then continued, “We bless and invoke thee to this sacred holy society, and thou will faithfully enforce, at all costs, the sacred commandments of thy Holy Name and our Lord, Jesus.”

  The Grand Knight then rose from his chair, asked the candidate to recite the sacred vow. His sponsor, Brother Aaron, reached into his tuxedo jacket pocket and unfolded the white sheet of paper with the society’s holy oath, and handed it to the candidate:

  “I, Brother Barabbas,” he recited, “Do hereby promise and declare that I will, when opportunity presents, make and wage relentless war, secretly against all heretics and demons, as I am directed to do to extirpate them from the face of the earth. That I will spare neither age, sex, or condition, and that I will hang, burn, waste, boil, flay, strangle, and bury alive these infamous heretics, rip up the stomachs and wombs of their women, and crush their infants' heads against the walls in order to annihilate their execrable race. That I will, when the same cannot be done openly, will secretly use the strangulation cord, the steel of the poniard of the leaden bullet, regardless of the honor, rank, dignity, or authority of that person or persons, whatever may be their condition in life, public or private. That I at any time may be directed so to do by any agent of the Pope or superior of our brotherhood of the Society of the Rose Crucifix and Holy Father of the Society of Jesus.”

  The Grand Knight then handed a gold handled, sable brush to the hooded brother standing beside him and dipped the brush into a small container containing lighter fluid. He then brushed the words “ROSE” and a cross onto Barabbas’s chest with the dipped solution. Another knight, ‘Brother Ephraim’ took a candle and lit it from one of the two standing torches burning alongside of the altar. Three other hooded knights approached the altar, genuflected, and approached the candidate.

  As the candle was placed against the candidate’s chest, a quick fire erupted, burning the word “ROSE” onto his chest for about three seconds. The new candidate started to scream with pain, as two of the red hooded knights held both of his arms, and the other two quickly put out the flame. The quick flame left a burn mark on Barabbas’s chest, with the word ROSE and a cross burned onto his skin.

  The Grand Knight then took a silver dagger, which was placed on the top of the altar, and held it high underneath the red, rosewood crucifix.

  “Oh, great and almighty Lord, I beseech thee to accept our new brother, Barabbas, as your humble servant and devoted apostle of thy superior principles and unwavering scruples. That thy servant shall obey and defend these morals and sacred commandments and destroy those demons that bring harm to your children, in God’s name we pray,” said the Grand Master.

  “Thy blood shall be drawn, and thou shall offer as the ultimate sacrifice to thy goodness and sacred mysteries to our Divine Master and Holy Father.”

  The Grand Knight then took the silver dagger and made a small cut onto Barabbas’s right forearm, immediately drawing blood. He then took the droplets of his blood from the dagger and watched the blood drip into a golden chalice. Another hooded member, ‘Brother Reuben’ quickly placed a large bandage over the new candidate’s wound and assisted him in getting dressed, while the Grand Master poured previously blessed, holy red wine from a cruet into the gold cup.

  At that moment, all the red hooded members rose from the table and lined up in front of the altar. Each brother took a sip of the blood tainted wine, genuflected, and made the sign of the cross. When all the society members finished, they escorted Barabbas to the middle of the church, and began to make a large circle around him, each holding a lighted candle. The Grand Knight then approached the new member and placed an 18-carat gold, ruby ring with a red cross onto his right ring finger.

  “We welcome thee, oh Brother Barabbas, to this Society of the Rose Crucifix. May you always be honored as a sacred brother of the Red Cross until your very last breath,” proclaimed the Grand Knight.

  “Wear this holy ring as a sign and testament of your devout loyalty to the brotherhood of our Society of the Rose Crucifix.”

  At that moment, each hooded society member approached ‘Barabbas’, introduced themselves by their society name, and kissed his newly adorned sacred ring.

  With that, Brother Barabbas was given a black name tag with his society name on it, pinned onto his tuxedo jacket by his sponsor, Brother Aaron.

  “Congratulations,” each of the members of the secret society said, welcoming their new brother into their secret holy order with an embrace and a handshake.

  Barabbas was delighted to finally, become a part of the secret society he had heard and read so much about. He was more than willing to participate and do his part in upholding their lofty, religious ideals and policies. He also knew that, as a secret member of the Rose Crucifix, that it was his sacred duty to seek out and destroy those ‘demons’ that have sinned and violated any and all of God’s children.

  He can now seek revenge and extinguish those demons that have taken the sacred oaths of chastity, obedience, and celibacy as servants of the Lord, and have broken those sacred vows. He firmly believed, as did so many other members of this secret society for over the last five hundred years, that they would immediately be absolved by God for any atrociously heinous crimes that were committed in the name of the Rose Crucifix.

  As a member of the society, he now had a religious license to murder and annihilate anyone who had ever preyed and sexually abused any of God’s children, anytime during the past or present. As a brother of this so-called ‘holy’ secret society, he was now a part of a very large order of fraternity brothers; those red hooded members who now advocate and uphold their only true current manifesto:

  To murder and destroy any and all pedophile priests.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Surprise Visit

  The traffic was starting to build up on North Milwaukee Avenue, as I exited the Starbucks drive-thru and made my way to the Sixteenth District. It was after the Memorial Day Holiday weekend, and I couldn’t recall the last time I had a good night’s sleep since the occurrence of these Pedophile Priest Murders. I was hoping the extra shot of expresso in my cappuccino would help me stay alert while I ‘slayed whatever dragons’ came across my desk on that early Tuesday morning.

  I couldn’t have been at my desk more than a half-hour when I received an unexpected visitor. It was my favorite detective from the Intelligence Unit.

  “What’s up Dorian?” Detective Paul Russo loudly remarked, as he was closing my office door behind him and making himself comfortable at the chair in front of my desk.

  I looked at him coldly, knowing that he was going to do his best to make sure I didn’t have a very good morning.

  “Am I the only one who can’t sleep anymore?” I curtly asked him, making sure that he knew I wasn’t pleased with his surprise visit.

  “Sleeping is overrated,” he said with a smile, as he was watching me absorb my Starbucks coffee and the generous spread of strawberry creamed cheese on my sesame seed bagel.

  “You need to start watching your diet, Dorian. Your stomach is starting to fall over your desk,” as I inadvertently spilled some coffee on my white shirt.

  “Thanks Paul,” I rudely replied, acknowledging my penchant for extra shot cappuccinos and stale bagels from Dunkin’ Donuts.

  “To what do I have this pleasure, so early in the morning? It isn’t even 8:00 o’clock yet.”

  “I’ve been up since 4:30 thi
s morning, Dorian. I’ve already done my five-mile run along the Lakefront,” Russo replied, fidgeting with a small paperweight on my desk that was gifted to me from the Sears Tower.

  While he was toying with objects on my desk, I noticed that Russo was still wearing his wedding ban, even though he has been a widower for several years. I also couldn’t help but notice a shiny gold ring on his right hand. I didn’t get a good look at it, as it was extremely sparkly, reflecting off the bright, florescent lights from my office.

  “Where are you at with this case, Dorian?”

  “Didn’t I talk to you on last Saturday? I’m still waiting on the lab results of that cigarette butt we recovered at one of the crime scenes,” I answered defensively.

  “No other clues?”

  “No, Detective.”

  “What have you got on that Monsignor ‘what’s-his-name’?

  “Kilbane?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. What else do you have on him?” Russo inquired.

  “Not much. He was pulled over the other night with fifty large in his briefcase. He was coming from a meeting with Little Tony at a nearby restaurant. The detectives at the Eighteenth had him on a DUI but had to let him go because they forgot get some bloodwork done on him.” I explained.

  “Forgot to get bloodwork? How the hell can you forget to get bloodwork on a DUI?” he asked.

  “They were so excited to find him with the fifty-large in his Cadillac that they forgot to push the bloodwork on the DUI charge, and his high-priced lawyer got him released.”

  “Those guys at the Eighteenth are getting very sloppy. They messed up a few collars for us at Intelligence that we had to clean up,” Russo replied, as if his Intelligence Unit were the only guys in Chicago who knew how to do proper investigations and police work.

  Russo continued to fumble around with the paperweight on my desk, while I unabashedly finished my bagel and coffee. I didn’t want to confess to him that I was at a dead end with these investigations. I didn’t want to admit it, but it was as though these gruesome crimes had been executed almost perfectly, and I was beginning to wonder if they could ever be solved. It was as though we were dealing with a professional murderer, who was meticulous in performing these executions of both pedophile ex-priests.

  “I heard you recovered a red rose at both crime scenes,” Russo commented.

  “How did you know about the flowers?” I asked him.

  “I have ways of finding these things out,” he replied in his usual cocky tone of voice.

  Except for Detective Morton and a few others within the department, not many people knew about the recovered red roses at each crime scene. I did not mention it in my initial police report. I know that Chaz Rizzo from Channel Eight news didn’t report it either, and not many others referred to them. I was a little suspicious at first, wondering how the hell he knew about those red roses, but I then dismissed it. I figured he and the super cops over at Intelligence seemed to acquire whatever information was available regarding both bloody crime scenes.

  “So, what’s our next move, Phil?”

  “I was going to try to get a subpoena and a search warrant on the Archdiocese office on Rush Street, but Commander Callahan is telling me to lay off the Monsignor,” I replied with frustration.

  “Why is he saying that? Until you find any evidence telling you otherwise, he’s definitely your main suspect.”

  “And how the hell am I going to prove that, especially if I can’t get into his office?”

  “What is it that you’re looking for?” he demanded to know.

  “I need a list of all the defrocked and retired priests in the Chicagoland area over the last fifty years, and I need to know how many of them have had life insurance policies taken on them by the Archdiocese.”

  Detective Russo looked at me, thinking about what I had just said, as if he had a better answer.

  “You’ve got two choices, Dorian. You’re either gonna have to go over Callahan’s head and get those subpoenas, or you may have to go the long way around.”

  “Long way around?”

  “Yeah. I can call IT and get a list of all the church parishes in the Chicago Archdiocese, and then run a list of all the priests and clergy that have been assigned to each parish over the last fifty years. We can then run a detailed report on any or all the clergy who have either passed away, retired, or resigned their positions as Catholic priests,” Russo suggested.

  “That’s gonna take forever,” I replied.

  “Not really. I can get my IT guys to start researching this right away. In the meantime, you keep pushing for that subpoena.”

  I thought about both options and realized that my subpoena option was going to really put me in hot water with Commander Callahan.

  “Are you trying to get me pushed back into doing a night beat on the streets? Callahan will have me ‘wearing blues’ and writing parking tickets at Grant Park if I go against him on this one,” I retorted. I didn’t need any more trouble from the Commander.

  “I’ll vouch for you, Dorian. We can go around his head if we have to.”

  I didn’t understand at that moment why Russo was insisting on pushing so hard on the Archdiocese and going against my District Commander and against his orders. I also couldn’t figure out why my Commander was trying to persuade me away from further investigating Monsignor Kilbane. Detective Russo was only adding to my frustrations.

  “Let me get back to my Unit, Phil. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  With that, Detective Paul Russo was out of my office, leaving me with more thwarting clues in this case than assistance. I had a fleeting thought that Russo’s investigative expertise was going to do more harm than good in these murder cases and didn’t quite understand his reasoning.

  It was as though he had come into my office to ‘fish out’ information, just to get me even more irritated in trying to solve these murders.

  A few more hours went by and it was past lunchtime when I got a call from the front desk sergeant.

  “Detective Dorian, you have a visitor downstairs. She’s from an insurance company.”

  At that moment, I was too busy unwrapping my turkey, ham and cheese submarine sandwich with extra mayo from the Subway down the street. One of the guys at the precinct went out to grab some sandwiches, as I could feel my stomach churning from all the stress these murder investigations were prompting. My pleasant little visit from Detective Russo this morning wasn’t helping either.

  “Send her up,” I replied, not paying much attention. I was too busy assaulting my lunch.

  Several moments later, there was a knock at my office door. My back was facing the entrance, and I didn’t even bother looking up from my dog dish when I yelled out, “Come in.”

  My Subway sandwich was all spread out across my credenza, as I had papers strewn everywhere on my desk top. My computer screens were both occupied with police data, and I was too immersed in both investigations to even notice the women who had just walked into my office.

  “Hello Detective,” came a soft voice from out of nowhere. I turned around and looked up over my computer screens, which were temporarily blocking the view of my office entrance.

  There stood a stunning, beautiful brunette with long, curly dark brown hair, beautiful brown eyes and a very shapely figure, probably no more than five feet, five inches tall. She was wearing a light beige jacket, matching skirt and a light blue blouse, which complimented her semi-dark complexion. She was wearing light red lipstick, and a stunning smile. She looked like one of those classy, Hollywood actresses that you often see posing for one of those glamour magazines, displayed next to the cashier at the supermarket. She was drop-dead gorgeous.

  I was trying hard not to choke on the last bite of my sandwich, and I nervously replied something that sounded like a gurgled ‘Hello’.

  “I’m Olivia Laurent, from the Great Lakes Life Insurance Company,” she announced, as she walked over to my desk to extend her hand.

  I nervou
sly wiped my mouth and looked for a napkin to wipe off the greasy mayonnaise on my hands. I then stood up, noticing the large morning coffee stain on my white shirt and tie.

  “I’m Phil Dorian,” I nervously replied, accepting her hand and hoping that I wasn’t embarrassing myself, with crumbs and sandwich debris splattered across my black trousers.

  “I know who you are, Detective,” she laughed, shaking my hand.

  “I’m so sorry to interrupt your lunch. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  “Oh, no, of course not,” I nervously answered, still trying to dust myself off and make myself look presentable.

  “We just received another life insurance claim from the Chicago Archdiocese at our office, so my superiors asked me to fly down to Chicago and do a little investigating,” she stated, as she was enjoying the surprise assault on my office.

  “Oh,” I managed to say, as I was still entranced with her beauty and classy good looks.

  “I hope I can help,” I mumbled, immediately thinking how stupid and nervous I must have sounded.

  “I hope you can too,” she smiled. “May I sit down?”

  “Oh…yes….of course….please. Sit down,” I sheepishly said. At that moment, I must have looked like an anxious, high school freshman. I was so nervous, I felt very uncomfortable sitting down at my own desk. She sat at the only chair in my office, and made herself comfortable, crossing her tanned, shapely legs while fumbling through her purse to find her business card. She politely handed it to me, peeking around my computer screens. I immediately noticed that her left hand was without a wedding ban.

  “So, how can I help you? Did you just arrive here from the Motor City?” I asked, as I was reading her business card at the same time. I noticed that she was a chief financial officer at the Great Lakes Life Insurance Company, with their home office in Detroit, Michigan.