Deliver Us From Evil (12 page)

“No. I did not.”

Berkoff glanced toward Judge Baylor. “That is all the questions I have at this time, Your Honor.”

--10--

There was a faint rumble in the courtroom. Judge Baylor hit his gavel. “Quiet, please.” He directed his gaze at Defense Counsel, Richard Ramsey, who was quietly conferring with Father Reiniger. “Mr. Ramsey,” he said, “Do you wish to cross-examine?”

Ramsey quickly rose. “Thank you, Your Honor, I do.” As he moved toward the witness stand he threw Mark Novak a somewhat condescending look. When he spoke, his voice was cold, direct. “I might remind you, Mr. Novak, there are very stiff penalties for lying, for perjury. I am sure you are aware of that?”

Mark was remarkably calm, controlled. “Yes, sir,” he said,
“I’m
aware of that.”

Ramsey leaned in close, his breath brushing against Mark’s face. “Yes or no, Mr. Novak? Were you or were you not given a week’s suspension from Alta Vista High School in January of this year? After having been caught smoking marijuana in the boys’ locker room, behind the school gymnasium?” His voice was hard.
“Yes
or no, Mr. Novak?”

Suddenly, Berkoff spoke up. “Objection, Your Honor!”

“On what grounds, Counselor?” Judge Baylor said.

“He’s badgering the witness!”

“Overruled. You may continue, Mr. Ramsey.”

“It’s a very simple question. Were you, or were you not caught smoking pot in the boys’ locker room? I need a
yes
or a no, Mr. Novak?”

There was a long pause. “Yes.”

Ramsey eyed the jury; his tone was direct, icy. “And didn’t you flatly
deny
breaking into your math teacher’s desk and rifling through it until you found copies of the Grade 12, final examination?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Mark said quickly. “They said I’d’

Ramsey cut him off; ugly. “Just answer the question, Mr. Novak! Yes, or no?”

Mark said nothing. He threw Ramsey a cold, contemptible look.

“Will you please instruct the witness to answer the question, Your Honor?”

“Answer the question, Mr, Novak.”

Mark paused again. His voice was low, hardly audible. “Yes.”

Ramsey broke into a thin smile. “You
lied
about smoking pot in the high school gym. You
lied
about rifling through Mr. Davidson’s desk! And now, you have the audacity,” he glanced at Father Reiniger, “to accuse a respected member of the holy Catholic church of
seducing
you! Sexually
assaulting
you!” Back to Mark; dripping venom. “Mr. Novak. You should be ashamed! You should be ashamed of yourself! Not only have you blasphemed the holy mother church, but all the priests and nuns and benefactors of the church, as well! You should
bury
your head in shame, Mr. Novak!” There was a snarl of dismissal and contempt. “I have no more questions for this witness!”

Judge Baylor eyed Mark closely. You may step down, Mr. Novak. Mr. Berkoff? You may call your next witness.”

“The People call Mr. Jack Kramer.”

Mark exited the witness stand and returned to his seat in the spectator’s gallery. Jack Kramer, who had been quietly watching from the gallery, rose, and began to make his way toward the stand. Self-confident, a touch of arrogance, he had the perfect Hollywood stud walk; that lazy, horny, hip-swaying thrust of his crotch. Kramer was quickly sworn-in by the clerk and took his place on the witness stand.

Berkoff eyed him momentarily. “Will you please state your full name, for the record?”

“John William Kramer,” he answered as he adjusted the microphone in front of him.

“Have you always been called,
Jack,
Mr. Kramer?”

“Yes sir, I have.”

“And how old are you?”

“Twenty-six.”

“Where do you currently reside?”

“The Creekside Apartments. 700 South Avenida Santa Rosa.”

“That’s in Alta Vista?”

“That is correct.”

Berkoff moved closer to the stand. “Mr. Kramer, judging by your sun-tanned and physically-fit body, I would guess yours is an outdoor occupation. True?”

“Yes, it is. I work in construction, build houses. Stuff like that.”

“I see.” Berkoff paused. “Now, according to Mr. Novak’s testimony, you were a close associate of Father Reiniger. True, Mr. Kramer?”

“Yes, sir. That is correct.”

“My understanding is that you were a church usher, that you did maintenance work in and around the rectory, that you very often coached the boys in baseball and basketball, that you also served as a boys’ counselor at Camp Sierra. All of this is true, Mr. Kramer?”

“Yes. It is.”

“So, I would assume you were very much aware of activities at the summer camp?”

“Yes, I was.”

“Mr. Kramer, I’d like to talk about the events which occurred during the Labor Day weekend. Specifically, the night of September 5
^th
. Isn’t it true that you, Father Reiniger, Danny Novak and two other altar boys left for Camp Sierra, immediately after Mass, that Sunday?”

“Yes, sir. That is true.”

“A weekend you were purportedly going to use, to clean up the camp, and as Mark Novak has testified, ‘Close it up for the winter months?’”

“Yes. That is true.”

“Can you tell us what happened after you arrived at the camp?”

“Willie Groda had a lunch prepared for us when we got there, so we all chowed-down. After that we broke into two teams and started to work. I was really proud of the three boys. They worked like beavers, really out-did themselves. Around four o’clock, they all went for a swim in the lake, to cool off. Father Reiniger and I sat out on the big, screened-in porch of the main house, watching them.”

“Where was Willie Groda during this time?”

“He was down in the dining hall, fixing supper.”

“Mr Kramer, I understand you and Father Reiniger were having a few
drinks?”

“Yeah. He’d brought along a pint of bourbon, and we had a few. Yeah!”

Berkoff’s eyes narrowed. “According to one of the boys, an
argument
broke out between you and Father Reiniger. True, Mr. Kramer?”

Kramer was a little surprised by the question. “Yeah. True.” He nodded. “We got into an argument.”

“What was
that
all about?”

Kramer glanced warily at the prosecutor. All of a sudden he appeared somewhat apprehensive, ill at ease. “Well, of course I’d known Father for almost two years now, and as time went on, although I never had any proof, that isn’t to say I didn’t
suspect
Father Reiniger was ‘playing around’ with the boys.”

“Would you care to elaborate on that, Mr. Kramer?”

“The subject had never come up between us before, and because he was, Father Reiniger, the parish priest, who was
I
to question him about it? But, that afternoon, I did. A ten-year-old boy had come to me, and told me, Father had molested him.”

“When exactly did this molestation allegedly take place?”

“That same Sunday morning. Right after the ten o’clock Mass. At St. Michael’s.”

“And
where
did this happen?”

“Inside the rectory.”

“Uh-huh. Go on, Mr. Kramer.”

“Somehow, I knew the boy was telling me the truth, and I
called
Father Reiniger on it. He, of course, vehemently denied it. We did get into a big argument about this. In fact, I got so steamed, I wanted to take off. Incidentally, I’d driven my own car.”

“And
did
you take off, Mr. Kramer?”

“No. I decided to stay. For the sake of the boys, I decided to stay.”

Berkoff paused, studying Kramer for a few moments. “You know, you are a very attractive man, Mr. Kramer. Did Father Reiniger ever make any advances toward you?”

“No. He did not.”

“Any thoughts on that?”

Kramer smiled. “I guess I wasn’t his ‘type.’ Either that or I’m guessing he preferred his victims, to be ‘young.’ They call guys like that, ‘chicken-hawks.’”

“I see. So, the boys had their swim in the lake. All of you had supper. What happened after that?”

“Actually we had our supper around a campfire we’d built. Willie Groda had fixed a big pot of chili. All of us sat around the fire and roasted hot-dogs. I remember it was getting on toward dusk, the sun was low in the sky. Two of the boys decided they wanted to turn-in early, they were very tired. Willie Groda picked up the dishes, the trash,
et cetera
and went back to the dining hall.”

“So, that left you, Father Reiniger and presumably Danny, left at the fire?”

“Exactly.”

“Tell me, were you and Father Reiniger still drinking liquor, by this time?”

“I wasn’t. But Father had the remains of his pint of bourbon stashed away in his jacket pocket. Every now and then, he’d sneak a shot into his coffee. He didn’t want Danny to know he was drinking.”

“What happened then, Mr. Kramer?”

“There was still about a half-hour of light. All of a sudden, Father asked Danny if he’d like to go for a spin in the motorboat.”

“And?”

“Of course the kid was thrilled. All the boys loved riding in the motorboat. Danny said, ‘You mean right now, Father?’ And Father said, ‘Sure! Why not?’ And Danny said, ‘Okay, Father, I’d love to!’”

“What about you? Were you included in this boat-ride invitation?”

Kramer’s gestures were wide, expansive. “Oh no, not me! No way! I could tell Father was still burning from our argument earlier in the afternoon. I could tell he was still pissed off, very angry with me. Just the way he spoke to me, the way he looked at me.”

“What happened then?”

“Father got even angrier, when I suggested to Danny that I’d take him and the other boys out in the boat all the next day, if they wanted to go. Father’s face turned beet-red. In all the time I’ve known him, I’d never seen him so angry. He said, ‘Haven’t you got things to take care of, up at the house?’ I said, ‘No, nothing in particular.’ And he fired back. ‘Well, I’m sure as
hell
sure you can find
something
to do!’ Then he turned to Danny and said, ‘C’mon, Danny-boy! Let’s go out on that motorboat ride, I promised you!”

“Then, what happened?”

“As they walked away, all I could think of was that ten-year-old kid, with tears in his eyes, afraid, confused, embarrassed, telling me that Father Reiniger, who he adored, by the way, had molested him in the rectory that morning. As I sat there, I felt helpless, angry at myself for not doing something. But, my hands were tied. What could I do?” There was a long pause. “I sat and watched as Father and Danny climbed into the boat. The kid was thrilled, no question about it. I think to this day, thank God he didn’t know what was in store for him! Father started the motor, they cast off from the dock, and in a few minutes the boat was heading out toward the middle of the lake. Funny the things you remember. I remember the water was as smooth as glass.” He paused again. “That was the last time I ever saw Danny Novak, alive.”