The Blameless Bystander Ch. 10

Chapter 10 — Mid-November Vignettes

"No, I was not defrocked," James answered in a strong voice into the microphone of the tape recorder. He had already recited a short bio and counted off his degrees and teaching experience.

It was Thursday afternoon. James' identity as Reverend Chandler's target was public knowledge, thanks to Doris' shouting it out during the previous evening's School Board Meeting. The unauthorized revelation changed all the rules of the game. Peggy Hardaway, inspired to improve her prior week's lackluster performance, took full advantage of the opening.

She called James at the school early in the morning and requested an interview. Roger Blair called Bob Jackson to smooth the way. So, during his free period James found himself speaking into Peggy's microphone with Ed Cassidy sitting silently by his side as unofficial witness.

"Well, are you still a priest, then?" the reporter followed up.

"No," James prepared to explain. "I requested a release from my vows and Holy Orders. It's like resigning from a job, except for me it had many spiritual implications."

"Care to elaborate?" she asked, attempting to pour some concrete into the mold.

"When a priest has doubts about his faith, he can't lead others to it unless he clears up his doubts. I couldn't, so I quit instead of pretending." James paused after the answer, wondering if he said enough. He glanced at the young reporter who seemed to wear an unsatisfied look on her face. "To go into it further," James explained, "would be rather personal and not very interesting to your readers." Ed nodded approvingly. The reporter wanted more but was sure that she had all that was available.

"What has been your experience with young children?" she asked.

"None," James answered. "I've only ever taught at the high school level. That was even true during my missionary days in Guatemala." Peggy raised an eyebrow, signaling a follow up question, so James elaborated. "It was for two years when I was in my twenties—when I was first ordained."

"Wow!" Ed exclaimed. I didn't know that.

"Have you ever been involved in any form of child molestation?" she asked.

James was relieved; she had finally arrived at the crux of the interview.

"No!" he replied emphatically.

"Ever been suspected of it? Sex with an underage person?" she probed.

"Absolutely not!" James asserted. "...to both questions."

"Ever cover up for someone that did?" she dug deeper.

"No to that question, too!"

"Then, Mr. O'Toole, why does Reverend Chandler say that you are guilty?" she asked pointedly.

"I don't know the answer to that," James admitted.

"Reverend Chandler has never given any evidence that anyone in our schools is guilty," Ed Cassidy broke his silence before James could speak. "He's only provided innuendo. The Union's position is 'let's see some facts!'."

"Let's discuss your teaching techniques, Mr. O'Toole," Ms. Hardaway expanded the scope. Mr. Jackson said that you've been very successful where others haven't been."

"Why don't you save that question for the follow-up interview?" Ed suggested.

****************

Peggy Hardaway left for Hornell and Nathan and Ed were in Bob Jackson's office talking about James' interview.

"I would say that he did pretty well," Ed told the others. "Right to the point—nothing to hide. It all worked out. We even left some cookies in the jar for a follow-up."

"Let's hope that she writes it that way," Jackson cautioned. "There's always something lost between the spoken word and the ink on the page."

"Who let out the name last night?" Nathan asked. "I know that it was from the back of the room, but my back was to the direction it came from. The voice sounded familiar, but there was a lot of noise, so I couldn't quite make it out."

"I didn't see who it was either," Jackson admitted.

"Same with me," offered Ed, "but Doris gets my vote if I had to point a finger."

"That makes sense to me," Nathan agreed. "She is nasty enough to do it, and has the most to gain."

"What do you mean by most to gain?" Jackson asked.

"She wants the Department Chair and she has to know that James is most qualified. She wouldn't mind if he was out of her way," Nathan explained.

"Make sure that you don't give it to her." Jackson ordered.

"I'll keep chairing it myself before she would ever get it," Nathan agreed. "She just wants it for the money and she's against working to bring the department up to standard."

At that point James knocked and entered the office. Nathan introduced him to Bob Jackson.

"Ed says that the interview with Peggy Hardaway went well," he said. "This has been a tough time for you—for all of us."

James nodded.

"Of course, you heard that your name was revealed at the Board Meeting last night," Bob continued.

"Oh, yes!" James confirmed. "Most of the teachers are avoiding me. They gossip about me when they think that I can't see them. The students in my class are having a hard time concentrating."

"Don't be surprised if a few parents request transfers out of your class," Nathan cautioned.

"One important thing that no one said last night," Ed reminded everyone, "is that all the speculation about James is false. All anyone was worried about was 'who knows what'; and 'what is his name'. We've got to back this guy up."

"I couldn't deny anything when the name wasn't on the table." Bob explained. "I was hoping that Chandler would come out with, but he got let off the hook. After the name came out it was such a mess that no one could say anything. We've got to work together to get through this. For one thing, I want all Press contacts cleared by me."

"Right—good idea!" Nathan agreed.

"I can't do that," Ed protested. "I can't give the impression that I'm coordinating with you. The Union is supposed to be independent." "Good point!" Jackson allowed. "Nathan and James coordinate through me. Ed, keep me posted as well as you can." They all nodded.

"I want to take a polygraph test," James insisted.

"That might happen," Jackson replied. "Timing is everything. We'll let Chandler insist that you do, and then he'll be banking everything on it. Everyone will be watching. You'll pass and this whole thing will die the death that it deserves." Bob snapped his fingers to make the point. "If you do it now, nobody will be paying any attention and they'll think that it's a put-up job."

"Do you really think that you can get him to do that?" Nathan asked.

"Chandler's impulsive, but he's got Jarrod Morris whispering in his ear," Ed pointed out. "And Jarrod is far from impulsive."

"Wouldn't you want me take a private one first to make sure that I'm being honest?" James asked.

"We believe you, James," Nathan assured.

"Wait, Nathan," Jackson cautioned, "James might have a good idea." He saw James expression as he contradicted Nathan's vote of confidence. "Just to make sure the machine is calibrated and everything—we'll let you know" he added, his embarrassment showing.

"The Union will have something to say if any polygraphing takes place," Ed cautioned.

"Okay, Okay! We'll get into details later," Jackson ordered. "Now, let's discuss the Mayor's interview in this week's Sentinel." He threw the paper on his desk, folded to Jarrod Morris' photo.

"That's the Mayor?" James asked as he saw the picture.

"Why, what of it?" Nathan questioned.

"It's just that I saw him coming out of Tracey Jacobs' house early one morning."

"That can't be!" said Jackson. "Morris lives way over on Elm."

"Think a little harder, Bob," Ed suggested sarcastically.

"Oh, I see!" Jackson replied with a sheepish grin. He quickly recovered. "That's beside the point. What do make of this interview?"

"It's obvious that he's straddling the fence," Nathan answered.

"Any chance that he'll land on our side?" Jackson asked.

Ed shook his head. "He's a member of Ethan's church and on their Board. He can't turn on them. He'd be turning on himself."

Besides, Jarrod always straddles, no matter what," Nathan added. "And no one has ever knocked him off his straddle."

"From this interview—and knowing Jarrod a little bit—I'm not sure that he's completely confident of Chandler," Bob speculated.

"Knowing Jarrod, there's some self-interest there," Ed advised. "He usually likes to push the buttons."

"It would be nice if we could find out what he's up too," Jackson said. "He could be the guy to hold Chandler back. On the other hand, he might be egging him on."

*************

"We could have used you last night, Jarrod. It was rough! Bob Jackson was looking for a showdown."

"Ethan, if I was there I would have had to say something, and that would spoil all our groundwork," Jarrod answered. "Anyway, one way or another we've got our name."

"We've got to find out more about him," Ethan ventured.

"No, no, no!" Jarrod corrected. "Let any information come from them. They'll be forced to prove it. They'll be on the defensive on a permanent basis."

"But, if we find out that he's a pedophile..." Ethan started to make a point, but Jarrod interrupted.

"Ethan, you don't really think he truly is a child molester, do you?"

"Well, of course, Jarrod, don't you?" Ethan challenged back, incredulous.

"I have no reason to think so, Ethan," Jarrod countered. "All you have is that he's a former priest. What of it?"

"But you've supported me all though this," Ethan exclaimed.

"We had to hold things together after you started it, Ethan. There's a side benefit to all this that you've forgotten. What's crucial is the size of the Sunday collections!"

"Well, Jarrod, I do believe it," Ethan insisted.

"Believe what you want to. Just don't give Jackson anything that he can definitively refute. Once he does, it's the beginning of the end," Jarrod commanded. "Play it cool and we'll be in the driver's seat! They'll never be able to disprove a negative."

"Where will it all end?" Ethan asked.

"At the end of the school year O'Toole will quit. He'll be fed up. He'll get a job somewhere else and move out of town—not much skin off his nose. We'll never hear from him again. Everyone in town will forget the whole thing, or be grateful to us for getting rid of him," Jarrod prophesied. "Either way, we win."

As he was becoming more prone to do, Ethan closed his eyes and turned his head away. "As you shall know the truth, the truth will set you free," he intoned.

"What's that, Ethan," Jarrod asked.

Ethan turned his face toward his friend. He opened his eyes, but it wasn't certain that he was looking at Jarrod, or even saw him. "Before Abraham was, I am," he annunciated clearly. Ethan's face was pale and had no expression, his eyes wide open and bloodshot. He had spoken as though his words were not intended for Jarrod's ears, but for a Being, perhaps himself, existing in another dimension.

"Ethan, wake up!" Jarrod yelled to get his attention. Ethan gave a small start. Jarrod could see his eyes focusing on him once again. Ethan did a slight double take on Jarrod, as if he was surprised to see him sitting in his study.

"Are you alright, Ethan?" Jarrod asked in a loud voice. "You look like you don't feel very well."

"So many worries!" Ethan mumbled in a tired voice. "Pedophiles, the Church, my daughter."

"What's wrong with Becky?" Jarrod asked.

"Judith and I can no longer reason with her," Ethan answered. "She's just an innocent child, but so avoids our protection."

"I know what you mean," Jarrod agreed. "Brad's the same way. I sent him up to my hunting cabin a few weeks ago to clean it up. It's obvious they had one big party up there."

"Party?" Ethan asked, still appearing dazed.

"I'll confide in you as a friend and a man of the cloth, Ethan. I found a spent condom out back, and I think that I smelled traces of marijuana."

"Condom?" Ethan asked in the dazed monotone.

"Well, I spent a few myself when I was his age," Jarrod confessed with a chuckle and some pride. "Brad went up there after the Homecoming Game."

"Becky went to the Cheerleaders' Sleepover!" called out a stern-faced Judith who had entered the study at some point in the conversation. Ethan nodded, remembering that his daughter had absented herself from Sunday Service the next day.

'Cheerleaders' Sleepover' sounded a bit odd to Jarrod, but he wasn't eager to parse facts with Judith. He thought that he'd better change the subject. Before he could do so, Judith spoke again.

"It's hard these days to keep children out of trouble," she spoke, more an announcement than an invitation to the men to engage her. "Has Brad been 'seeing' anyone, in particular?" she asked.

"Brad? No, not him," Jarrod said in a cautious tone. "He's too busy with football—and studies of course!"

"Then he spent a condom at your cabin after the Homecoming Game with a casual acquaintance?" Judith accused.

"I didn't say that!" Jarrod squirmed.

Judith gave a condescending nod and walked out of the room.

"I didn't come here to go into that, anyway," Jarrod quickly changed the subject as Judith left. "It's time for monthly review of the finances," Jarrod announced. "The by-laws say that another board member has to perform a review each month with the Treasurer. I was doing it with Howard Jones, but he's visiting his brother in North Carolina.

Ethan agreed, and they bent over the ledgers. Ethan pointed out deposits and vouchers and they reviewed the bank reconciliation. Ethan did it because he had to, but it was apparent that he wished the task was over. With the collections picking up, he had less to worry about in that regard.

"What's this 'Bank Transfer' that you have recorded here?" Ethan asked as they neared the end.

"You remember that!" Jarrod exclaimed. "You know—it's the 'Insurance Funding Account'," Jarrod answered. Ethan shrugged.

"We set it up last year to make sure that the policies didn't lapse. Each week I transfer in a certain amount and pay the various policies' premiums with the funds. It's like a savings account with a special purpose."

"So it has its own checkbook?" Ethan asked.

"Right!" Jarrod answered. Ethan kept looking at Jarrod in a quizzical way. "I didn't think that you'd be interested in it, Ethan. I can go back to my office and pick it up if you like."

"No, that's alright," Ethan answered, satisfied by the offer. "We'll catch up with it next time." Jarrod smiled and nodded.

"Whatever you say, Ethan!"

Jarrod started packing up his papers and ledger books. "One more thing, Ethan. Since O'Toole's name is out, you better call the school and tell them that you want Becky out of his class. If you believe that he's a pedophile and leave your kid in his classroom, it kind of spoils the credibility."

****************

Tracey Jacobs was driving back to Bates on the Interstate in the early evening. She glanced over to the passenger's seat at her step-brother, Raymond. He had not stopped talking since she had picked him up after his visit to Pender Industries in Rochester. In the dark he couldn't see the smile creeping over her lips. As she listened it reminded her of a child convinced that Santa's reindeers' hooves had been clattering on the roof.

"I'm more confused than before I started!" the excited lad exclaimed. "Mr. Kendig told me a lot about all kinds of engineering. He's a Mechanical Engineer. He went to Cornell."

Matt Kendig was an on old friend of James'. He met him when he taught his son some years ago. Matt was the Vice President of Engineering at Pender. Every so often James took promising students to talk to him about their careers. James asked him to host Raymond for such a visit and when he recited Raymond's story, Matt jumped at the chance.

"You sound happy for someone who's confused," Tracey observed.

Raymond ignored his sister's point. "I got to see the CAD Room. They let me go right in! I've never seen anything like it. After that, we went on a tour of the plant. They showed me how the designs become machines."

Of course, James would have enjoyed taking Raymond himself, and visiting with his old friend. With the accusation standing against him, a trip to Rochester with a young male was out of the question. He persuaded Tracey to take the day off and drive Raymond, instead. Raymond's mother had her hands full with Raymond's brothers and sisters. Tracey dropped him at Pender's front door and then went shopping at the local malls. It had taken the whole day and they were on their way home.

"What kind of engineering do you think you would like to study?" Tracey asked.

"That's why I'm confused," Raymond answered. There are some kinds that I never thought of, like Metallurgy; there's Chemical Engineering and Ceramic Engineering, too."

"I've never heard of a lot of those things," Tracey admitted. "What's 'Ceramic Engineering'? It sounds like clay pots and vases."

"Me, neither, until today," Raymond answered. "It's not pottery. It could be fiber optics, or heat shields for space ships, or many other things. If I want to study it, I'll have to apply to Alfred University. I think I might, because I could work at the Glass Works in Corning and then I wouldn't have to move away. I could help Ma out."

"Oh, Raymond, don't get trapped!" Tracey warned. "This town will swallow you up. You'll give all you have and get nothing back. One day, you'll look around and see that you're drained, with nothing left to give. You'll regret all the things that you never did, places you never went, people you never met. Don't kill your dreams before they have a chance to live. Ask your mother—she'll say the same thing."

"I don't get it Tracey," his youthful exuberance temporarily curtailed.

"Raymond, it's just that you have so much potential. Whatever happens, do it because it's what you want, not where you want."

"Is that what happened to you, Tracey?" It may have been a tactless question, but it was sincere and born of Raymond's youth.

In the darkness Raymond couldn't see the tears welling in his older sister's eyes. "They took you to lunch and everything?" she asked, groping for a change of subject.

"Yes," Raymond answered. "Mr. Kendig sent me with three of the younger engineers in his department so I could ask them what it's like. They were good guys. They said that engineering school is tough—a lot of studying. Then I told them where I had offers and they argued about which place is best."

"Who won?" Tracey asked, chuckling.

"No one," Raymond replied, laughing along with her. The only thing that they agreed on is that they all have terrible football teams. I don't think that Carnegie-Mellon has one at all."

"Do you have to decide what to study right away?" Tracey asked.

"For Ceramic and Chemical I would have to decide right away. For others, I would study for two years first, and then choose."

"You have a lot to think about," Tracey said. "You should tell Mr. Thompson about your trip."

"Mr. O'Toole, too," Raymond insisted.

"Of course!" Tracey acknowledged. "You owe him a lot! Not many teachers would take this extra trouble for you."

"Mr. Kendig said that if I stuck with Mr. O'Toole I would have plenty of math under my belt when I go away next year. He said that Mr. O'Toole is better in math than any of the engineers in his department. No offence, Tracey, but I wish that he could have taken me," Raymond confided. "Why are they saying those things about him?"

"I don't know," Tracey shook her head sadly. "I don't believe it. I've watched him working with you and around school. I would need a lot more proof to believe it, and I haven't heard any."

"Some kids do, others don't. Most think that he's going to be fired," Raymond said.

"I sure hope not!" Tracey said.

"Ma says that they're doing this to him because they want to keep outsiders from having a chance."