“Some things take time to understand.”
“You don’t think you’re broken?”
“As you said, aren’t we all?”
“Yes, but not all of us are priests who murder. And if I were to guess, there are more than two bodies out there killed by your hand.”
So the warden knew about that as well. “I was in the Bosnian War.”
“Did I ask you to explain yourself? You have a way with judges as well, I understand.” The man drilled him with his blue eyes. “And district attorneys,” Pape said. “You cut a deal. In exchange for your confession to the murders of Jonathan Bourque and Darby Gordon, the DA agreed to no press. No death penalty. Fifty years in prison. You waived appeal. Why? Probably because doing so typically limits the inquiry to a simple identification of the victim’s bodies rather than a full investigation, which would produce evidence needed in the event of an appeal. Which leads me to believe you’re hiding something. Are you hiding something, Danny?”
The man’s assumptions were correct. How he’d come to the conclusion so easily was disconcerting. A full investigation of the facts surrounding the victims might have produced forensic evidence that incriminated someone else. Someone Danny loved more than he loved his own life.
“Perhaps you’re hiding something about Renee?” the warden said.
A chill rode Danny’s spine. What had a moment ago been deep concern immediately grew to alarm. How could the warden even guess such a thing?
Pape picked up a sheet of paper from the file. “A Renee Gilmore, if I’m right. Ring a bell?”
“She’s a very good friend,” Danny said. “We go way back.”
“Yes, I bet you do.” He set the paper down and closed the file. “You must understand what I’m driving at.”
But Danny didn’t understand.
“The fact is, you’re broken. A priest, no less, who has failed in the worst of ways. As the book says: ‘Any man who falls from the grace of his brothers is no brother at all.’ Isn’t that right?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t recall that passage. Where’s it from?”
The warden wagged his head at the bookshelf to his left. “Take your pick.”
The books on the middle shelf made up what appeared to be a nearly exhaustive library of holy books from all the world’s major religions, and as many smaller ones. The Muslim Quran, the Christian Bible, the Jewish Talmud, the Hindu Bhagavad Gita, the
“My point is simple,” Pape said. “Basal isn’t here to destroy you, however deserving you are, or to keep you away from society, but to
Danny couldn’t mistake the irony of the warden’s words. As a priest, he’d been the defender of the abused, the weak, the outcasts trampled under the heavy feet of powerful men. He’d confronted such powerful men, given them one chance to change their oppressive ways, and if they failed he’d change their ways for them. Often with a bullet to the head.
And now he was being confronted with the same choice. Change or be changed. Forever.
“As you see fit,” Danny said.
“And I see fit that every man must first recognize their true nature and come face-to-face with who they really are in full confession. This must happen before they can turn around and begin the true path of repentance and rehabilitation. As the good books say, only when you realize just how wretched you are can you climb to freedom. Will you allow me to take you on that journey, Danny?”
“As long as I’m in your facility, my life isn’t my own,” Danny replied. “It’s yours.”
The warden stared at him for a few seconds and then slowly offered a slight smile. “And so it is. In Basal, I am God. And if you’re going to reenter that fallen world out there, you must first understand the true nature of reward for good behavior and punishment for deviant behavior.”
He slid a piece of paper across the desk and set a pen on top of it. “You are required to sign this waiver to participate in our program. Basal is outside the rest of the system, and as such there are special restrictions and rules. Take a moment to read it before you sign it.”
Danny scanned the one-page document, which consisted of a list of behavioral rules and the forfeiture of several basic rights associated with visitation, mail, phone calls, and due process.
Most lifers who’d spent time in another prison would see the waiver as a small price to pay for a more comfortable stay and an earlier release. Fish—new guys—who believed they were innocent might be less likely to sign, unless they had no case or representation. Clearly, the warden only wanted those who fit a particular profile in his prison.
The waiver’s restrictions might make contact with Renee more difficult, but there was now another consideration boring through Danny’s mind. The warden seemed to suspect more about Renee than was on the books. How, Danny didn’t know, but the fact that Pape might represent a danger to Renee compelled Danny to learn more about the severity of the warden’s threat. He couldn’t do so locked down at Ironwood.
Danny signed the waiver.
“Thank you.” The warden stood, slid his chair under his desk, and began to pace, hands now behind his back.
“My prison is unlike any other, hidden from prying eyes, and I intend to keep it that way. Consider yourself fully isolated from the influences that corrupted you. That includes phone calls, mail, and visitation, which are earned privileges. Not easily earned, as you will see. I have the full support of the director who oversees this prison, and he’s given me full authority. Due process is in place, but it’s quick, and my word stands without question.”
He pulled the translucent lace drape aside with a long finger and peered outside.
“As you have likely noted, we don’t favor typical prison slang. It’s critical that members forget everything they think they know about prison. This isn’t a prison, it’s my sanctuary. It’s a proper reflection of authentic life. I’m sure a man of the cloth can appreciate that.”
He released the curtain and continued down the length of his desk.
“We have three populations in our sanctuary. The commons wing is occupied by what’s called the general population at other institutions. A smaller privileged wing is for those who reject deviant behavior and demonstrate sincere progress. And then we have the meditation floor, what you might think of as administrative segregation, or the hole. It’s a travesty that inmates aren’t rewarded for good behavior in most prisons, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I can see that.”
“It’s an equal travesty that they aren’t punished for deviant behavior. In our sanctuary reward is both earned and coveted. Do good and you will be richly rewarded. But fail me and you will suffer. As the book says, ‘An eye for an eye.’ Isn’t that how it works?”
Danny’s mind was still on how Pape seemed to know so much about him. Typically a warden knew only what was in a prisoner’s file, which rarely held all the details of his crime. In the warden’s careful vetting process, he had obviously dug much deeper. Everything he’d mentioned was a matter of record somewhere.
“I asked a simple question, Danny. Please answer.”
“You would like my true opinion?”
“Would I have asked for it if I didn’t?”
“Then I would say an eye for an eye is best replaced by forgiveness, love, and mercy.”
The warden nodded. “Yes, you would. We may have challenges, you and I. But in the end, you will see my wisdom. We don’t have an orientation period. You will leave me and go straight to the commons, where you will either learn the way things work on your own or be helped along by my staff. A handbook in your cell will lay out all of our rules, but let me highlight a few I’m partial to.”
He cleared his throat and brought the back of his hand across his lips as if to dry them, then placed his fingertips on the desktop.
“Foul language is not permitted under any circumstance. It only reinforces learned behavior. Violence of any nature is strictly prohibited unless approved by me. Any form of sexual conduct is strictly prohibited unless I deem it to be appropriate. This includes any form of homosexuality, masturbation, or inciting lewd discussion. Is that
