Epilogue

“What do you mean you’re not charging anyone with anything?” Jack glowed down at the three investigators, huddled near him like cowering dogs.

“You can’t just... We are the D.A.’s office. We have a responsibility to...”

“Sir, the fact is that we can’t prove anything. For all we know, these people have been brainwashed.” The mousy woman elbowed her partner and he spoke as well.

“If we charged one, we’d have to charge all of them. Don’t you get it? They all admitted to it. We would be throwing an entire community in jail, over a murder that was, well, frankly, deserved.”

“I should suspend you for that comment. These Jesus-freaks have obviously gotten the best of you, Roger. And you, Lynn.” He slammed his fist on the desk in frustration. “Damnit, we are the only way that this man’s family will find justice. Don’t you understand that? No matter how despicable he was...”

“That’s the thing, boss.” The older man spoke. “We couldn’t find any of his family. Well, we might’ve found his brother, but other than a ‘Fuck you’ and ‘I hope he rots in hell,’ there’s no evidence to suggest that the pastor was anything other than a stain on the societal fabric.”

“What aren’t you people telling me?” Jack asked. “Was he really that bad?”

“He raped a widow.” The younger man said quietly. “Repeatedly.”

“He touched a little girl.” The older man offered. “But you knew that.”

“He tried to molest a teenage boy. He failed, but he tried.”

“He even tried to touch the older sister. Of the little girl.” The woman finished.

“So you’re telling me that somehow, we’re supposed to — legally — wrap this case up without charging anyone, given that you all have taken written statements and recordings of confessions by the congregation?” Jack slammed his fists on the table. “Are you all insane? What’s in the water over there?”

“We think...” The older man spoke for all three. “We think that it should be written off as a riot gone bad. Since no one person started it, and all we have is circumstantial evidence, and the witnesses are compromised because of possible brainwashing...”

“That’s how we’re going to play this?” Jack asked, and the investigators all nodded at different speeds, an erratic and amusing moment in a sea of tension. “A riot?”

“None of them wanted lawyers, Jack.” The woman said. “If we pressed charges, they’d have no way to defend themselves. Caught up in our prison system for defending family? That’s not right, Jack.”

“What they did wasn’t right.”

“Oh, we all know that.” The younger man spoke again. “But do we punish the wife that breaks under her husband’s abusive blows? The father that kills the rapist? It’s a different sort of justice, Jack.”

“Are you all willing to lose your jobs over this?” He bore into each with a steady, stony gaze. No one looked away.

The silence seemed to stretch into eternity, marked only by the steady ticking of the ancient grandfather clock in the corner. Jack sighed, the weight of his job bearing down upon him.

“This is on your heads if it comes out. It doesn’t come back to me. Do you understand? I was busy and never saw the paperwork filed.”

The three broke into small smiles.

“We know.” The woman said. “You’re doing what’s right, Jack. You won’t regret it.”

“I doubt that. But it’s three against one, and it seems like no one is willing to pursue this case — not even the man’s own family. Release the body to the fellowship. Tell them that there will be no charges pressed as long as they’re on excellent behavior for the rest of their lives, and that they treat the man’s body with respect and give it a proper burial.”

“Will do, Jack.” The older man extended his hand and Jack took it. “This means a lot to us.”

“God save us all.” Jack muttered as he released the investigator’s hand. “Letting them kill a goddamn pastor.”

“More like the goddamned devil.”