piece.
It was from the Pecos Valley News, a local paper from a town sleepy enough that high-school football was front-page material. The article had run in the Church Briefs section of the paper, and was about the baptism of the Roberts's newborn son, William Henry. A photo accompanied the article, a robed priest holding an infant, nestled in between folds of cloth. I could just make out William Henry's eyes, which were peaceful, closed.
It was hard to imagine that this child, renouncing evil, would eventually become a servant of the devil.
The second article was also from the Pecos Valley News, and it was written in 1995. The article was titled 'Roberts Family
Sells Home, Wish Them Luck in Texas!' An accompanying photo showed John and Meryl with their young children standing in front of a For Sale sign in their yard. The parents looked young, vibrant, like they were about to start a new chapter of their lives. An eight-year-old William stood to the side with an expression on his face that showed neither happiness nor sorrow. It was a blank slate, as though he was simply going along because there was nothing he could do to stop it.
I clicked on the third article. It was from the Hamilton
Herald-News out of Hamilton County, Texas. It was dated
August 23, 2004. The headline read Five Dead in Deadly Hico
Blaze: Family Of Four Trapped Inside Their Home, Die
Along With Beloved Chaplain.
The accompanying photo showed the charred embers where a house once stood. There were police cars, ambulances and fire trucks spread out with abandon. Men and women in white jackets with filters over their mouths combed through the wreckage.
I could see at least one body draped with cloth and another, uncovered, lying among the timber.
My stomach clenched. I read further, my pulse quickening as I read the awful details.
Late last night John Roberts, his wife Meryl, their two children William and Martha, and beloved Pastor
Mark C. Rheingold died in a four-alarm fire at the Roberts ranch in Hico, Texas.
…bodies were burned beyond recognition…
…unknown how the fire began…
…Rheingold had just returned from a thirty-city tour for his latest book and was set to break ground on a new
15,000-seat church in Houston…
…the Roberts family had just moved to Hico three years ago…
…joined John Henry Roberts's father, Oliver…
…William Henry and Martha James had recently graduated from Hamilton High…
…police have not ruled out arson…
I read the rest of the article, stunned. It was impossible.
Either I'd made a huge mistake, or something was terribly wrong. Because according to the newspapers, William Henry
Roberts had died in Hico, Texas, nearly four years ago.
42
The next three articles were all follow-ups to the story of the tragic fire that had claimed the lives of four of Hico's newest residents, as well as the life of one of the state's most beloved religious servants.
According to Sheriff Chip Youngblood, experts determined that the fire was electrical, and may have been exacerbated when one of the Roberts children foolishly attempted to extinguish it with water. According to the local energy supplier, there was a small spike in the Roberts family's electrical usage around the time the fire was believed to have started.
The county held a small, private ceremony for the burial of John Henry Roberts, his wife and their children. A photo ran of the burial. There were about twenty people in attendance, including several reporters from local papers.
The funeral service held for Pastor Mark Rheingold, however, was a very different story. The proceedings were held in Rheingold's old church in Houston, a ten-thousand seater that was filled to capacity for the ceremony. Ushers were needed to corral the crowds. At least four people were confirmed to have fainted. Another tried to drown himself in the hopes of meeting Mark Rheingold in heaven.
I came upon hundreds of photos of Mark Rheingold taken during his various pilgrimages in various newspapers, pamphlets and photo-ops. Rheingold was a thin man, not skinny but lean, with the lithe physique and stretched facial muscles of a jogger. His jet-black hair was always slicked back in a neat coif and his suits, like his wife's jewelry, were decent but not gaudy. Every photograph bore the pastor's thousand-watt smile. Though I did wonder why a man of God needed veneers.
Cards and flowers arrived from all fifty states and thirty foreign countries. Numerous politicians paid their condolences in person. Rheingold's closest friends and pastorial acquaintances read passages from his bestselling books. Rheingold's wife and young son remained stoic in the front row. The governor of Texas declared the day one of statewide mourning.
The following year, Rheingold's wife was given her own daytime talk show. His ten-year-old son published a book called Never Too Young to Follow the Lord, containing prayers and motivation for grade-schoolers.
There was very little reporting on the burial of the
Roberts family. A grainy photo showed the four caskets being lowered. Two larger ones, for John and William. Two smaller ones for Meryl and Martha. John was noted as the grandson of Oliver P. 'Brushy Bill' Roberts. Everything else was journalism-by-the-numbers.
One line from the article, though, threw me for a loop.
The Roberts family was buried in a closed-casket service presided over by Reverend Bert Brown. During his concluding remarks, Reverend Brown asked the heavenly father that the bodies of these four souls be looked after in heaven, and that any earthly remains not in these coffins find that everlasting peace.
Any earthly remains not in these coffins…
I immediately picked up the phone and dialed information for Hico, Texas. An automated voice answered.
'What listing?'
'I'd like the main number for the Hamilton County coroner's office.'
'One moment, please.'
Muzak played in the background. I tuned out the newsroom chatter. Frank Rourke walked by the mail drop, turned and eyed me for what seemed like minutes, then kept walking.
'Hello, sir?'
'Yeah, sorry,' I said. 'Who is this?'
'Well, my name is Helen, but I'm afraid there is no coroner's office in Texas.'
'Do you mean Hamilton, Texas, or Texas as a whole?'
'I'm afraid that would be Texas as a whole.'
'Then who's in charge of supervising wrongful death cases?'
'That would be the Justice of the Peace, sir.'
'Then can I be connected to the office of the current Justice of the Peace?'
'Ab-so-lutely.'
A minute passed as the line rang. Another woman picked up, her voice cheerful.
'Office of Justice Waverly, this is Brenda, how may I assist you?'
'Hi, Brenda,' I said, trying to make my voice sound as young as possible. Brenda sounded to be either in her late fifties or late teens. An aunt type. And aunts loved their young nephews. 'My name is Henry Parker, and I'm with the New
York Gazette. I'm a junior reporter.'
'Oh, a junior reporter all the way up there in New York?
