Deliver Us From Evil (10 page)

Coincidentally, it was a few minutes later, that a pair of Mexican landscape gardeners, driving an ancient, flatbed truck, arrived at the scene and knew immediately what was happening. They pulled up beside Reiniger’s car, and quickly exited. The driver was yelling, “Quickly! Quickly! Pronto!” As one of the men quickly yanked the hose from inside the window, the other man tried to open the car door. It was locked. Instinctively, he grabbed up a rake from the truck-bed, and with a heavy, solid blow, smashed the window, Quickly, he reached inside, unlocked the door and threw it open. He turned off the ignition, and began to slap Reiniger’s face, attempting to revive him. Slowly, and in a drowsy, lethargic manner, the priest began to regain consciousness.

EXTRACT:
San Bernardino Sun-Times

REINIGER SUICIDE ATTEMPT

San Bernardino, Calif. Monday, September 20. Alta Vista’s Valencia Park was the scene of a near-fatal mishap, Sunday afternoon, when Father Frederick Reiniger was discovered in an attempt to commit suicide, by asphyxiation. He had taken a garden hose, attached it to the tail-pipe of his car, and had fallen into unconsciousness. Fortunately, two Alta Vista city employees, Roberto Diaz and Juan Escobar, who were working in the park area, realized what was happening, and managed to revive the St. Michael’s parish priest. Reiniger, who is accused of the sexual abuse and murder of twelve-year-old, Danny Novak, is free on $300,000 bond. His trial is scheduled to begin at 10:00 a.m., tomorrow, at the San Bernardino County Courthouse.

--9--

Detective Bureau. SBPD. Monday, September 20. 2:30 p.m. Captain McGraw had just fired-up his ever-present cigar. His office was filled with drifting blue smoke. Farrell, who sat at his desk, opposite, gazed at him with a half-smile. “Cigars ain’t good for you, Cap. Didn’t you know that?”

“Yeah, the old lady tells me that all the time, but do you think I listen?” McGraw took a drag on the cigar, then his eyes fell on the newspaper that lay on the desk in front of him. It was a copy of the
San Bernardino Sun-Times.
The bold, black headline was staring up at him: REINIGER SUICIDE ATTEMPT. Under the banner headline was a large photograph of Father Reiniger. “Shit,” McGraw said, “this really shocked the hell out of me! I never thought Reiniger would try to take his own life, for Chris’sake.” He paused. “Was there a suicide note, do you know?”

“As far as we know, no, there wasn’t.”

“Lucky for him, those two Mex gardeners were around, or Reiniger would be coolin’ his heels at the County morgue, right about now.”

Farrell nodded. “You’re right about that.”

“No doubt, Reiniger’s got a lot on his mind, these days. Including the upcoming trial.” He paused again. “Speakin’ of which, I’m expectin’ a visitor from the D.A.’s office, any minute now.”

“And, who would
that
be?”

“A.D.A. David Berkoff.”

Farrell smirked. “To what do we owe
this
honor?”

“I dunno, but he called this morning and said he’d be stopping by sometime between two o’clock and three.” McGraw flicked the ashes from his cigar into a metal ashtray, then glanced back at Farrell. “I know Berkoff’s good. I know he’s the fair-haired-boy around the friggin’ courthouse.”

Farrell grinned. “Why do I get the feeling there’s a ‘but’ coming up?”

“Berkoff’s one of our top prosecuting attorneys,” McGraw continued, “no question about that, but the guy is a pain in the ass. He’s a prick! He’s got a fuckin’ ego as big as this office! Anybody who knows anything, knows Berkoff’s got his eye on the D.A.’s job! Personally, I don’t like him, and I don’t like his style. I don’t like all the flash, the arrogance. All of that bullshit might be kick-ass in Beverly Hills, but” McGraw was suddenly interrupted when the intercom buzzed. He picked up. “McGraw, here!”

They could hear the sound of the receptionist’s voice. “Assistant District Attorney, Mr. Berkoff is here to see you.”

“Send him in, please.”

Moments later, the door opened and David Berkoff breezed in. As he effusively shook hands with McGraw, Farrell’s eyes slid over him: he was a tall, handsome man; he wore a dark gray, pin-striped, Armani, white buttoned-down collar and maroon necktie. From his fifty-five-dollar haircut, to his gold DB-initialed cuff links, to his freshly-manicured nails, to his $200 Florsheim, wing-tipped shoes, Berkoff looked like he’d just stepped off the cover of GQ. His demeanor was slightly pompous, imperious. He turned and gripped Farrell’s hand. “Nice seeing you again, Detective.”

“Likewise,” Farrell said, hoping the prosecutor wouldn’t catch on to his lack of enthusiasm.

Berkoff sat down opposite Captain McGraw. He extracted a gold cigarette case from inside his breast pocket, took out a cigarette, and lit it. He directed his gaze at McGraw. “I won’t be taking up too much of your time, Captain, but I just wanted to go over a few details, before we go to trial, tomorrow.” He then turned to face Farrell. “Now, Detective, you
will
be available to serve as a witness. Do you forsee any problems at all?”

“No. None at all.”

“Good.” There was a long pause as Berkoff took a drag on the cigarette, then exhaled. “The Reiniger suicide attempt intrigues me. My gut tells me the whole thing was a hoax, a scam to gain the potential jury’s sympathy. I believe Reiniger had no
intention
of killing himself. It was an obvious fraud! But, so be it.” He paused again. “I spoke with Danny Novak’s mother yesterday, and I promised her unconditionally, there will be justice served in this case. Call it what you like, an obsession, a fixation, a hang-up, but when it comes to heinous crimes committed against children, I take it very personally. That’s just me. Reiniger was the last person to see Danny Novak alive. He’s guilty of murder, and I’m gonna nail him!”

McGraw eyed the prosecutor closely. “David, I understand your position. I understand your position very well. But, there’s one thing that bothers me.”

“What’s that, Captain?” he said, with obvious irritation.

“Sure, the DNA proves Reiniger humped the kid, sexually assaulted him. But, we
can’t
place Reiniger at the murder scene. No physical evidence. No witnesses. No murder weapon!”

Berkoff’s eyes took on a metallic gleam. “I know. I know all that. But, I’m gonna put the squeeze on Reiniger. I’m gonna break him! He murdered the boy and he will pay for his crime. I can promise you that. Reiniger had not other choice. He
had
to kill the kid. He had to kill him, to silence him. I’m gonna go for Murder One.”

9/24/99. The San Bernardino County Courthouse. 10:00 a.m. The Frederick Reiniger criminal trial was already into its fourth day. The jury had been selected: four men and eight women, plus two alternates. As it was, the day of Father Reiniger’s arraignment, the second floor courtroom was filled to capacity. Because of the trial’s notoriety, newsmen from all over the U.S., as well as many foreign countries, had converged on San Bernardino. The rear parking lot, behind the courthouse was jammed with News vans, easily identifiable by the large satellite dishes attached to their exteriors. Rooms were sold out at the California Hotel. Once again, seats inside the courtroom were at a premium. After the Press and TV reporters had been seated, the few remaining seats were left to a numbers draw, conducted before the trial proceedings were to begin.

Presiding Superior Court, Judge Alonzo Bayler, a black man, sat behind the bench. In his late sixties, he was tall, corpulent; he was silver-haired, distinguished-looking. His voice was flinty, gravel-rough. His words were forceful, direct and delivered with exactitude. He also had a robust, cynical, sense of humor whenever the mood hit him. Above Judge Baylor, attached to the walnut-paneled wall, was the Great Seal of the State of California.

Reflecting the neo-classic, Spanish architecture of the courthouse exterior, the courtroom walls were cream-colored, uneven adobe in texture. The ceiling was supported by heavy, open, rough-hewn, wooden beams. Below the State Seal, was a large, hand-painted mural depicting the landing of Spanish explorer, Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo, on the shores of San Diego Bay in 1542. The mural was flanked on each side by a pair of elaborate, gold wall sconces. Two large fans, suspended from the ceiling slowly turned; barely moving the fetid, early-morning air.

To the left of Judge Baylor sat Assistant District Attorney, David Berkoff and a male assistant. Adjacent to Berkoff, sat Defense Counsel, Richard Ramsey. Seated to his left was the defendant, Father Reiniger. There was a low buzz throughout the courtroom. Judge Baylor lightly tapped his bench gavel and there was silence. “Mr. Berkoff?’ he announced, “Are you ready to give your opening statement?”

“Yes, Your Honor, I am.” Berkoff rose from the prosecutor’s table and slowy crossed toward the jury. The members of the jury eyed him warily, as he gripped the mahogany hand-railing, and spoke directly to them. His voice was steely, articulate. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the evidence in this case will show beyond a reasonable doubt, that on the night of Sunday, September 5
^th
, 1999, a young twelve-year-old boy, Danny Novak, met his death.” He paused, glancing at Father Reiniger. “At the hands of Father Frederick Reiniger, pastor of St. Michael’s church in Alta Vista.” Berkoff paused again. “The Catholic church has always been looked upon as a haven of trust and compassion; the parish priest has always been looked upon as a
symbol
of that trust and compassion. Like countless other boys, Danny Novak looked upon Father Reiniger as a surrogate father, if you will. Danny trusted him completely, he believe him, he believed
in
him.” Berkoff turned back to the jury. “We are going to prove to you in this courtroom today, that Father Reiniger took
advantage
of that trust. Father Reiniger invited Danny Novak and two other boys to spend the weekend, the Labor Day weekend, as a matter of fact, at a summer camp, Camp Sierra, on Half Moon Lake, high in the San Bernardino Mountains. Danny Novak never returned from that weekend camping trip. His body was discovered at 3:00 p.m., Labor Day afternoon, at the bottom of the lake. Here was a bright, robust, cheerful, intelligent youngster whose short life was suddenly snuffed out. Medical examination has revealed that this boy was sexually assaulted, strangled, and his body dumped into the lake. Ladies and gentlemen, the evidence you will hear, speaks for itself. The State asks only that you listen to that evidence, and give us your verdict in accordance with the law. I thank you.”

Judge Baylor watched as Berkoff returned to his seat. Then he glanced at the defense attorney. “Mr. Ramsey?”

Ramsey, a tall, attractive-looking man in his late forties, paused for a microsecond, then he too, rose and crossed to the jury box. All eyes were fastened on him as he gripped the railing with both hands. When he spoke, his voice was hard, a little edgy. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my client, Reverend Father Frederick Reiniger did
not
sexually molest and murder Danny Novak. True, as the prosecutor has stated, Father Reiniger
did
invite Danny Novak and two other boys to spend the weekend at Camp Sierra, but my client had nothing whatsoever to do with Danny’s death. After you have heard all the evidence in this case, I am sure you will unanimously agree with that statement. Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you very much.”

As Ramsey returned to his seat beside Father Reiniger, Judge Baylor once again, lightly tapped his bench gavel. “Mr. Berkoff? Are you ready to call your first witness?”

“I am, Your Honor. We call Mark Novak.”

Mark Novak rose from his seat in the gallery and moved toward the witness stand. He appeared slightly apprehensive as he approached the court clerk, a heavy-set woman in her thirties. “Please raise your right hand,” she said. “Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you, God?”

“I do.”

“State your name for the record.”

“Mark Christopher Novak.”

“Be seated, please.”

Berkoff eyed Mark speculatively for a long moment, then rose from his chair. Slowly, he crossed toward him. “First of all, Mr. Novak, Mark, I would like to extend my sincere condolences, in the untimely death of your brother.”