Deliver Us From Evil (14 page)

Judge Baylor was getting slightly impatient. “Yes, yes, Mrs. Lombardi. So you picked up your address book. What happened then?”

“Well, I was just getting ready to leave, when all of a sudden, the bathroom door opened and one of the boys walked out. I won’t mention his name. All he had on, was a towel wrapped around him.”

“Yes. Go on, Mrs. Lombardi,” Berkoff said.

“Father’s face turned a little red. I could tell he was ill-at-ease, a little embarrassed. Father said, ‘He decided to take a shower.’ I answered, ‘Yes, I can see that, Father!’ And in a minute, I was gone.”

“And so, you went directly home?”

“Yes, I did. My husband was watching some old movie on TV, when I got there. I tried to explain to him what I’d seen. That I thought it was a little odd, strange, that one of the boys was taking a shower in the rectory at
midnight,
of all times. He scoffed at the idea, told me I was imagining things, as usual. He was much more interested in watching the movie, than listening to me, so I dropped the subject.”

Suddenly, Berkoff returned to the prosecutor’s table and picked up a white shoe box. He then turned and once again, approached the witness stand. “Mrs. Lombardi, as you can see, I have a simple, white shoe box in my hand. Does it look familiar to you? Have you ever seen this box, before?”

“Yes, I certainly have,’ she said, ominously. “It’s what was
inside
the box that really threw me for a loop, Mr. Berkoff!”

“I see.” He paused. “And where exactly did you see this box, Mrs. Lombardi?”

“Well, it was Christmastime. Father had bought a nice tree for the rectory. He asked me to go ahead and decorate it. He told me I’d find lights and Christmas tree decorations in the hall closet.”

“And did you
find
the box, Mrs. Lombardi?”

“If you will just let me continue, Mr. Berkoff! Yes, I found the box of decorations all right, but hidden behind it, I also found the shoe box you have in your hand, Mr. Berkoff.”

“So, you opened the box?”

Low. Almost a whisper. “I’m gonna be perfectly honest with you, sir. I’m just as curious, just as snoopy as the next guy. I won’t deny that for a minute!”

“Did you open the box, Mrs. Lombardi?” Berkoff said, pressing on.

“Yes. I did.”

“And what did you
find
inside the box?”

Her voice was low, somewhat apprehensive. “I found a collection of photographs, taken with a Polaroid camera.”

“Photographs of what? Of whom, Mrs. Lombardi?”

“They were all pictures of young boys, some partially dressed, most of them naked.”

Suddenly, a slight rumble echoed throughout the courtroom. Judge Baylor gaveled the spectators down. “Quiet, please! You may continue, Mr. Berkoff.”

“Approximately how many photographs were in the box, do you recall? Just give us a rough estimate.”

“Oh, I’d have to say, twenty, thirty.”

Berkoff opened the shoe box and extracted five or six of the photographs. He held them out to Mrs. Lombardi. “Mrs. Lombardi, I’d like you to take a look at these photographs. Are
these
what you saw that evening in the rectory?”

Mrs. Lombardi took the photos and looked at them as if she’d just seen a tarantula. She passed the photographs back to Berkoff.

“Are
these
the pictures you saw that night, Mrs. Lombardi?” he said.

Cold. “Yes. They are.”

“Would you say these pictures would be classified as, pornographic?”

Her voice was dour. “Yes. Without a doubt, I certainly would.”

Berkoff turned toward the Judge. “Your Honor? May I show these photographs to the jury?”

“You may.”

Quickly, Berkoff turned and passed the half-dozen photographs to Ben Marley, the foreman of the jury. Marley in turn, passed the photos along to the other jury members. The women, especially, were visibly shocked.

“Your Honor,” Berkoff said, “we request that this box of pornographic photographs be marked as Prosecution Exhibit “A”, and submitted as evidence.”

“So submitted. You may continue, Mr. Berkoff.”

Berkoff passed the box of photographs to the court clerk for identification, then slowly turned once again to face Mrs. Lombardi. “Mrs. Lombardi, I’d like to talk about the events which occurred on Tuesday, July the 20
^th
, 1999. That incidentally, was just three days after the incident involving the painting of the rectory club room. Do you remember the events which occurred on July 20
^th
, Mrs. Lombardi?”

“Of course, Mr. Berkoff. How could I forget
that
night?”

“Tell us what happened that night, if you will.”

“I seem to have a knack, for being in the wrong place, at the wrong time,” she said, smiling a little.

“How so, Mrs. Lombardi?”

“It was another one of those nights, when I’d gone home, but had to return to the rectory for something I’d forgotten. I don’t recall what it was right now, besides, it’s not important.” She paused. “Once again, I walked into the rectory, unannounced, and I found one of the altar boys lying on the couch, stripped to the waist. Father was giving the boy a massage with an electric hand-vibrator. I could see Father was very angry that I’d walked in on him. The next morning, he handed me an envelope, with a week’s pay inside. He said I was through. He was terminating me.”

The prosecutor glanced abruptly at Richard Ramsey. “Your witness, Mr. Ramsey.”

Berkoff returned to his seat at the counsel table. Ramsey rose and with folded arms, slowly moved toward the witness stand. Eyeing Mrs. Lombardi closely, he threw her a cold, appraising look. “Mrs. Lombardi, you told this court, and I quote: ‘I seem to have a knack, for being in the wrong place, at the wrong time’. Isn’t that what you said, Mrs. Lombardi?”

Virginia Lombardi was suddenly changing her position; recrossing her legs. “Yes. That’s right. I did.” Her tone was flippant.

“Forgive me, but I don’t think that is entirely true.”

“What are you getting at? What do you mean?”

Ramsey’s voice rose. “What I
mean,
Mrs. Lombardi, is that you didn’t just happen to drop by the rectory as you implied. Your ‘haphazard’ return trips to the rectory were
planned,
Mrs. Lombardi.”

Loud. Her voice quick, icy. “That’s ridiculous! That’s also a damned lie! I never planned any such thing!”

“The truth is,” Ramsey’s tone was cold, lethal, “and my client will verify this. You are a very calculating and manipulative woman. You are obsessed with getting your nose into other people’s business, where it doesn’t belong!”

Suddenly, Berkoff rose quickly from his chair. “Objection, Your Honor!
Mrs. Lombardi
is not on trial here!”

“I’ll allow it. Continue, Mr. Ramsey.”

“My information, Mrs. Lombardi, is that you take particular delight in causing dissension between everyone you come in contact with!”

“That is also a lie! And I resent that remark, Mr. Ramsey!” she sniffed.

“You are greedy, you are manipulative, you are deceitful. You are also a liar, Mrs. Lombardi! Why would any of these jurors believe a word you say?”

Berkoff was in again. His voice was loud. Almost threatening. “Your Honor, I
object!
He’s harassing the witness!”

“Sustained.”

In an unexpected move, Mrs. Lombardi suddenly turned to face the Judge. “Your Honor, may I ask a question?”

There was a twinkle in Judge Baylor’s eye. “This is a little unorthodox, Mrs. Lombardi, but I am willing to go out on a limb. What is your question?”

“Do I really need to be subjected to Mr. Ramsey’s constant verbal abuse? Is his verbal abuse, really necessary, Your Honor?”

Judge Baylor eyed Ramsey contemplatively. “Yes, Mr. Ramsey, I think you’ve made your point. Let’s get on with it!”

“One last question, Mrs. Lombardi. Didn’t the prosecution cut you a deal? Isn’t it a fact the prosecution
paid
you to give this testimony?”

Suddenly, Berkoff leaped to his feet. His face turned ashen with anger. His voice was intense, abrasive. “Your Honor! Now this is getting ridiculous! I
demand
that question be stricken from the record!”

“Mr. Ramsey,”
Baylor said, “I must warn you, you are treading on very thin ice. Will the jury please disregard Mr. Ramsey’s last statement.”

Ramsey tossed the Judge a small smile. “I withdraw the question, Your Honor.” He then glanced at Mrs. Lombardi with a cold, withering look. “I have no more questions for this witness.”

Berkoff slowly sank into his chair at the counsel table. He was trying valiantly to control his rage.

“You may step down, Mrs. Lombardi,” the Judge said, then his gaze was fastened on the prosecutor. “Mr. Berkoff? You look slightly perturbed. A little out of sorts. Do you wish to continue?”

“Yes. Of course. Your Honor.”

“Then, will you please call your next witness.”

“Thank you, Your Honor. The people call Dr. Adam Steiner.”

--12--

Dr. Adam Steiner approached the bench, was sworn-in by the clerk and took his place on the witness stand. In his mid-sixties, he was tall, professorial; he wore a mustache and goatee, steel-rimmed, aviator-styled glasses. In a slightly nervous gesture, he re-adjusted the microphone.

“Can we please have your full name for the record, Doctor?” Berkoff said.

“Dr. Adam Steiner.”

“How old are you, Dr. Steiner?”

“Sixty-seven.”

“Where do you presently reside?”

“1000 Sand Canyon Road, Palm Springs, California.”

“My understanding is that you a Doctor of Psychiatry. Is that not correct, sir?”

“That is correct.”

“You received your doctorate at Columbia University?”

“Yes. That is correct.”

“You were a professor in the Department of Psychiatry at the Mount Sinai School of Medicine in New York. Correct, Dr. Steiner?”

“That is correct.”

“You were a resident in psychiatry at the Atascadero State Hospital, here in California?”

“Yes. I was.”

Berkoff looked up from his notes on the podium. “You are a member of the American Board of Psychiatry, are you, Doctor?”

“Yes, I am.”

The prosecutor paused briefly. “You are associated, I am told, with the Los Angeles Police Department. Correct, Dr. Steiner?”

“At the present time, I am semi-retired. However, that is true. I work on a consultant basis with the LAPD, as well as the San Bernardino Police Department.”

“Uh-huh. I understand you are also associated with a Rape-Crisis Center in downtown L.A.?”

“Yes, sir. That is correct.”

Berkoff moved toward the jury box. “Dr. Steiner, we brought you here today to discuss, among other things, Megan’s Law.” He grabbed the railing and glanced back at Steiner. “For those of us who are not entirely aware of what Megan’s Law is all about, can you help us? Enlighten us?”