A Rose From The Executioner

by Edward Izzi

  Tommy Morton saw me walking through the revolving door and greeted me.

  “This isn’t good, Philly,” he immediately said.

  “What’s going on? What do we have here?” I immediately started rifling off some questions to Tommy, questions that I knew I wasn’t going to like the answers to.

  “We’ve got a dead stabbing victim up on the eighth floor. His name is Matthew McDougall, a 77-year-old Chicago ex-priest from Westchester. He was a dying lung cancer patient. The head nurse up in the cancer ward said the old man only had days to live,” Tommy reported.

  “A dying cancer patient, with only days to live, gets stabbed and fileted in broad daylight up in the eighth floor in the cancer ward? This just doesn’t make any sense.”

  I was immediately confused, trying to get my head around this whole murder scene, with all its cops and investigators walking around.

  “Seems like this killer is getting ballsy. Someone dressed as a priest, registered at the front desk as ‘Monsignor Joseph Kilbane.’ The receptionist at the information desk got a good look at him,” as Tommy started looking at his notes.

  “About 5 feet, ten inches tall, heavier build, older, middle aged man, bald with wire rimmed glasses. She says he was very friendly,” Morton recapped.

  “Monsignor Kilbane? Are you kidding?” I said out loud.

  “Is the wicked Monsignor brazen enough to show up at a hospital and kill a pedophile priest in broad daylight now?” I asked Tommy.

  “I don’t know,” he replied. “It doesn’t add up.”

  “The killer was pretty sloppy too. He left his knife next to the red rose, still inserted in the victim.”

  “We have a knife this time?” I asked out loud. “Sounds like the killer is getting more generous with the evidence.”

  “Any witnesses?” I asked.

  “A few nurses noticed the Monsignor, who first entered the hospital wearing dark sunglasses, and then was walking around the eighth ward holding a rain coat over his left arm. Another one of the nurses observed the priest praying and administering the patient’s late rites before closing door in his room. She thought it was unusual that the priest didn’t seem focused while praying over the patient. Several minutes later, the heart monitor went off and she saw the patient, mutilated and blood was everywhere. She’s pretty shaken up right now,” Tommy said.

  I looked around, and recognized several investigators from several other districts, interviewing and talking amongst themselves. I noticed a few FBI agents walking around as well.

  “Who else is on this case?” I stupidly asked.

  “Everybody, Phil. It looks like this isn’t just your case anymore.”

  I looked around and immediately noticed my buddy, Detective Paul Russo, talking to a few FBI agents and another Chicago policeman when he made eye contact with me. He only nodded his head at me for a moment, and then after a few minutes, excused himself from the other agents that he was conversing with. He then motioned Commander Callahan, and they both walked over towards my direction.

  “We need your homicide files,” Russo immediately said in a cold, heartless voice.

  I immediately looked at the Commander, who was suspiciously glaring at me as though I were the killer. By the expression on his face, I immediately knew what his next directive was going to be.

  “Turn over all of your files on these ‘Pedophile Priest Murders’ to Intelligence. You’re done.”

  I looked him, shocked and confused.

  “What?”

  “You heard me. You’re off this case,” the Commander repeated, while Russo was giving me that condescending smirk of his.

  “Sir, why are you pulling me off? I’m starting to make some progress and I’m...,” I tried to plead, knowing it would get me nowhere.

  “Seriously?” Paul Russo interrupted, “You haven’t done shit, Dorian. You haven’t gotten anywhere on this case,” he interjected, knowing that my ‘traitor boss’ would back him up.

  “We’ve got a serial killer running around Chicago, killing and stabbing ex-priests, while you’re sleeping at your desk and eating goddamn sandwiches,” the Commander fired off at me in a loud, callous voice.

  Commander Callahan had probably just gotten his ass chewed out by the Superintendent, and I was trying very hard not to take his comments personally. I could tell that Callahan, along with the rest of the ‘Top-Brass’, were already taking heat from the ‘Ivory Tower’ to solve these murders and to get this serial killer off the streets. I expected him to lay into me for this murder as well, not that it was my fault. But because of all the heat and pressure that everyone in the Chicago Police Department was now feeling, every person was going to be on edge. For whatever reason, the Superintendent wanted their ‘Star Detectives’ working on this case, which meant Russo and his ‘Intel Boys’ at the Twenty-First.

  “The Mayor is pissed, and he wants this psycho killer off the goddamn streets,” Russo exclaimed.

  “Our Intel Unit has a good rapport with the Feds, and they’ll work better with our boys on this serial killer investigation,” Russo interjected.

  I shook my head, without saying another word. I simply acknowledged Commander Callahan and Russo, and walked away, alone towards the revolving door. Detective Morton made eye contact with me, as if to say, “I’ll catch you later”, then walked over to the other side of the hospital lobby to talk with another one of the detectives.

  At that moment, it felt as though a ‘500-pound gorilla’ had been lifted off my shoulders. There was a part of me that just wanted to run out of that hospital, drive over to the nearest watering hole and celebrate. These ‘Pedophile Priest Murders’ were no longer my problem.

  But then I stopped myself for a second and just stood there, looking at all the yellow crime scene tape across the hospital lobby and all the activity going on from everyone at the Chicago P.D.

  I’m a policeman, I’m a detective, and I’m a damned good one. I said to myself.

  Why should I let these arrogant bastards push me off this investigation? I just couldn’t walk away from all of this. Not now, not yet…not without a fight. I just wasn’t wired that way. I felt obligated to see these murder investigations through, one way or the other.

  I then noticed several more police cars pulling into the hospital parking lot along with a black, unmarked SUV with blue sirens on. Within minutes, Mayor Ron Leibowitz exited the vehicle, along with several of his security body guards and some of the Chicago ‘Top Brass’. He walked right past me through the revolving doors, along with Superintendent Ryan, and was approached by several other commanders and sergeants who began informing the Mayor regarding the status of this investigation.

  I could hear the Mayor talking loudly, almost screaming, to the Superintendent;

  “Why hasn’t this bastard been taken off the streets?” I overheard him say.

  At that point, I decided to make a gutsy decision, and it was probably the riskiest judgement call I had ever made in my career.

  I walked over to the Superintendent and the Mayor and introduced myself.

  “Good Afternoon, Mr. Mayor, I’m Detective Dorian,” as he graciously shook my hand, while Superintendent Ryan stood there, surprised by my direct, forceful approach.

  “I’m the head detective working on these “Pedophile Priest Murders,” I began to say, as the Mayor gave me that welcoming look in his eyes that I’ve often seen on televised newscasts.

  “Really?” he exclaimed, “Let’s talk.”

  The three of us walked over to one of the couches near the farthest part of the hospital lobby, and I began to brief the Mayor and the Superintendent regarding everything I had discovered regarding these murders. I explained all the facts in this case, and expressed my thoughts and suspicions concerning the Archdiocese of Chicago, mob-boss Little Tony DiMatteo, the life insurance claims and of course, Monsignor Kilbane. We sat there and talked together for over thirty minutes, as I noticed Russo and Commander Callahan, giving me dirty looks t
he whole time from the other side of the lobby.

  “So where do we go from here, Detective,” the Mayor eagerly asked.

  “We’re cross checking all of the ex-priests within the Chicagoland area for the last fifty years, and we’re close to getting some DNA crime scene results from the last murder scene. Seeing that this serial killer got sloppy today, there should be plenty of incriminating evidence here at the hospital,” I answered.

  “I’m sure we can lift some prints, some DNA and other proof from the crime scene upstairs,” I continued, trying my best to enlighten the Mayor. I observed Commander Callahan from the corner of my eye, coldly glaring at me from a distance. He looked as though he was ready to make me another murder victim.

  “We have witnesses now, which didn’t have at the other crime scenes,” I described. “We probably have him on some security cameras here as well. I’m sure we can get a description on the killer and ID him,” I boldly predicted.

  The Mayor looked at the Superintendent, and then Ryan called over Commander Callahan.

  “Commander,” Superintendent Ryan began, “Keep Detective Dorian on, and have him work with the Intel Unit on this case. We need all the heads we can get.”

  Commander Callahan looked shocked, as he locked his eyes into mine for several seconds.

  “But I thought you wanted the Intel Unit to….”

  “I know what I said, Commander. We need Dorian here to stay involved with Intel,” the Superintendent replied.

  The Mayor then looked sternly at the Commander, letting him verbally know that he wasn’t interested in playing ‘Copper Politics’ with either him or anyone else within the department.

  “I want this serial killer off the streets, before every Chicago Catholic Church goes into panic mode,” said the Mayor.

  “We don’t need this right now. We’ve got our hands full with all these gang-bangers and drug dealers killing each other on the South Side. We don’t need this in our city,” Leibowitz continued, looking at all of the policemen and detectives that were standing nearby looking at us. The Mayor then looked at me, dead square in the eyes:

  “Catch this bastard.”

  Chapter Twenty- Five

  Secret Society

  The frigid March winds were cold and blistery one evening that previous spring, as each of the brothers of this sacred order were assembling for their monthly meeting. The Knights of the Society of the Rose Crucifix always assembled on the Third Thursday of each month, and there were important issues on the agenda that needed discussion at this monthly assembly.

  Each brother knight, secretly and discretely, entered the abandoned brownstone church on West Division Street, following their normal procedure. As was their entry ritual, each brother had a designated time to enter the old church building for the sake of secrecy. Each knight had his own key to enter the door, then walked into the vestibule to adorn their red, pointed masks without disclosing their real identities. As was their tradition of attendance, every brother knight adorned their formal black tuxedos, red hooded masks and their gold, red cross rings.

  At exactly 6:00pm on that gusty spring evening, Brother Jeramiah was the first designated knight to enter building. He unlocked the door with his special key, adorned his mask, and was the first to sit at the long wooden table located in the middle of the old, stained glass church. At 6:15pm, Brother Aaron entered the abandoned brownstone structure, using his special, designated entry key. At 6:30pm, Brother Barabbas arrived in his Cadillac SUV, parked it along Ashland Avenue, and then entered the sacred hall. Each brother knight was given an assigned time to enter the building and adorn his mask, so that the secrecy of each brother knight’s identity was specially protected and kept sacred. By 8:00pm, Brother Ezekiel, the Grand Knight, was the last to arrive.

  The meeting came to order at 8:07pm, with the Grand Knight Ezekiel leading the assembly with the Pledge of Allegiance and an opening prayer. Afterwards, he called his fellow brothers to the agenda at hand.

  “Brother Knights, as you are aware, we have a new brother to welcome into our spiritual, holy order, Brother Barabbas,” he proclaimed. All the knights then stood up and applauded their new member, as Barabbas stood silently to the ovation.

  The prior month’s minutes and old business was discussed and settled, then the Grand Knight directed the meeting:

  “With a new member in our order, our great fraternity of twelve is now complete, and we may now do the Lord’s work in upholding His sacred sacraments. It is our duty, to advocate the sacred decrees of our Holy Father and to prosecute those individuals who have broken these blessed commandments. Do have we any new business to bring forth before this sacred society?”

  There were several minutes of silence, until Brother Tobiah requested the attention of his fraternal brothers.

  “My brothers, we have a situation which I believe merit’s the attention of this society. May I address the table of twelve, oh worthy Grand Knight?” Tobiah requested in a deep raspy voice.

  “Permission granted,” he replied.

  “As you all may recall, I have brought to the attention of this holy brotherhood the dilemma of a former priest, Father John Marquardt. As previously mentioned, I have discussed his great and many abuses and sins of his past to all of you in prior meetings. You have all recommended that, instead of taking direct action that we as a holy society dutifully pray over his tainted soul. I do believe that now is the time to take such a special action, because of the current circumstances which are now before us,” he continued.

  “What current circumstances are those, Brother Tobiah?” asked the Grand Knight.

  “It has come to my attention, from a very reliable source, that the Archdiocese of Chicago is interested in eradicating some of its former pedophile priests for the life insurance money,” Tobiah exclaimed.

  All the brothers looked at each other, not understanding the full context of Brother Tobiah’s statement. There was a long silence at the table, as if all the brother knights were speechless.

  “Specifically, the Administrative Chief of Staff to the Cardinal, Monsignor Joseph Kilbane, is in need of, shall we call him, a ‘hired hit man’,” he continued.

  “The Archdiocese is looking for a ‘hired assassin’?” asked Brother Zebedee.

  “Yes, Brother Zebedee. Apparently, the Archdiocese is cash poor and looking to ‘cash out’ on the life insurance policies that were taken years ago on the lives of these former pedophile priests.”

  Everyone at the long, mahogany table turned their masked heads to each other in amazement, all of them struggling to understand the total ‘breadth’ of his statement.

  “Continue on, Brother Tobiah,” demanded the Grand Knight. Brother Ezekiel had immediately recognized the deep, raspy voice behind the red hood.

  “Monsignor Kilbane has approached ‘someone of great power’ within the underworld to assist him in acquiring and securing a ‘contract for hire’ on these defrocked priests. Apparently, the cash position of the Archdiocese has become so bad that they are now considering selling off and liquidating churches and other valuable real estate at discounted prices to fulfill the civil and legal settlements of these pedophile lawsuits that have been brought against the Archdiocese of Chicago.”

  More silence at the table of twelve knights, as the Grand Knight asked for more discussion of this matter.

  “What are you suggesting, Brother Tobiah?” asked Brother Adam, not quite understanding what his fellow knight was suggesting.

  Tobiah, without hesitating, finally put it out there:

  “What better way to eradicate these sick monsters, these violators of their sacred vows, than to abolish them and take them out, and to create blame on the Archdiocese of Chicago? To frame and put the culpability squarely on the front door of the Cardinal himself?” he explained in his usual deep, raspy voice.

  Everyone looked at one another again, wondering how this murderous scheme would work and how it would benefit their sacred society.


  “You are suggesting that we, as the knights of this sacred society, become the ‘hit men’ for the Archdiocese?” inquired Brother Abel.

  “Exactly.”

  There was more stillness at the table for several long minutes, until Brother Jeremiah broke this silence.

  “Why should we enrich the Archdiocese of Chicago, and assist them in collecting the life insurance proceeds of these defrocked and disgraced former priests? We all have a great distain for the Archdiocese, and the methods by which they allowed these deviant sexual predators to continue their ministries. Why should we help them?” he protested.

  “We are not helping them,” Tobiah answered. “We are burying them.”

  “How so?” asked Brother Adam.

  “The Chicago P.D. will investigate these ‘redemptions’, and when the word gets out that Kilbane was scheming a “death-for-hire” plot on these ex-pedophile priests, he and the Archdiocese will become the primary suspects in these homicides,” Tobiah gleefully plotted.

  The Grand Knight was unusually silent throughout this dialog. It was the practice of the brother knights of the Society of the Rose Crucifix to never use the word ‘murder’ before its other members. Because the victims’ tainted souls were being saved from the depths of purgatory, the word ‘redemption’ is often used and interchanged.

  “How much are these life insurance policies?” asked Brother Jacob.

  “Each policy is between one to five million dollars, whatever Cardinals Brody and Bernardo were able to secure on these ex-priests at the time of their resignation,” Tobiah answered.

  As members of the Society of the Rose Crucifix, the brother knights had been plotting and planning a means to begin the elimination and demise of these pedophile ex-priests for a very long time. They have prayed together and looked for guidance in their manifest, to right the moral wrongs which these former clerics have inflicted on God’s children for so many, many years.