“It’s all yours.”
Philip sat up straight with his fingers interlaced upon the table. This was the end of the line for him. All along, he’d considered the possibility that things might turn out this way. He’d started adjusting his thinking the moment he knew he was caught. Eloquence would have to succeed where planning and action had failed.
It was time.
“When I was living in Boston, going to Berklee, my roommate showed me a video. I don’t remember where he got it. It might have been from one of his classes. It was called ‘The Evils of Rock and Roll’ …not ‘Rock ‘n Roll’, ‘Rock and Roll’ …which already shows that the makers of the video didn’t know what the fuck they were doing. Anyway, the writer-slash-director-slash-narrator was some sort of religious figure. I don’t think he was a priest. He made big deal out of his Theology degree, that’s for sure. Whatever he was, he’d made it his mission in life to abolish rock ‘n roll.
“He started by explaining the origin of term. Do you know the origin of the term rock ‘n roll?”
“Can’t say I’ve given it much thought.”
“It’s sex. When straight-laced society first heard the music, they considered it lurid, so they gave it nickname to equate it with something they considered just as lurid. The nickname stuck. The same thing happened with ‘jazz’ and ‘bebop.’ Makes sense when you think about it. Rock ‘n roll…there aren’t too many activities that call for that action. Stay with me. I’m going somewhere with this. I promise.”
“I’m not the least bit worried.”
“The guy pontificated a bit, and then moved to examples of bands and solo acts that he deemed particularly demonic. The first few were what you’d expect. Any guesses?”
Gomez didn’t flinch.
“Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, Black Sabbath, Alice Cooper, Kiss…”
“Excellent! I tell you, man, when you recognized Bill’s guitar as the same instrument Carlos Santana plays, I knew that you knew your shit. But those bands were just a warm-up. The real crux of his spiel had to do with a second set of examples. Care to guess again?”
There was a cheek in Philip’s tone. Ernie made his guesses accordingly.
“Neil Diamond? The Beatles? The Police? Bon Jovi?”
“Hey! You got one of them. Bon Jovi was there along with Prince, Billy Idol, and Madonna…all of them fairly innocuous compared to the first list wouldn’t you say?”
The detective nodded. The killer continued.
“Not according to this guy. Damn! I wish I could remember his name! At any rate, he believed this second list to be worse than the first. Why? Because they all wear symbols of Christianity when they perform. He put a slide show under his narration zooming in on their necklaces and tattoos. You with me so far?”
“Completely.”
“Next, the video showed a bottle of poison. You knew it was poison because it had an over-the-top skull and crossbones on the label. The narrator talked about how slim the chances were that someone would pick up the bottle and take a swig since the contents were so overtly deadly.
“Then he said ‘however…if the poison is hidden,’ and the video cut to a bowl of M & M’s. The implication was that the poison was in the candy. To drive the point home, four children were shown eating it. Luckily, we were spared the image of four dead kids slumped beside an empty bowl.
“The narrator was a crackpot, but he was completely dead-right about one thing. The Devil is clever, and he hides. His plan is to take over, to undo, to unmake. For that, he needs numbers; for that, he needs souls.”
He became lost in thought for a minute, and then snapped himself out of it with an expression of disgust.
“People think it’s an ‘opt in.’ Thank you, Hollywood! Everyone pictures the Devil showing up in a time of desperate need and offering some kind of a mystical contract. Too easy. It’s like the Devil gets thwarted by just saying ‘no;’ that’s nonsense. Hear me now, Detective Gomez. If the Devil gets you, you won’t know it happened until it’s too late. That’s the sick genius of Satan.
“It’s misdirection, just like stupid-ass concept of the Satanic Cult.”
He put his index fingers over his head like horns and wagged his tongue back and forth.
“Blaaahh! Satanic cults! What a load of shit…oh, don’t get me wrong. I don’t deny their existence. They’re out there. They eat babies and skin people alive and offer up virgin sacrifices to the Devil and all that crap…but you see…that’s Satan’s bottle of poison! The horns and the red cape and the hooves and the fire and the fangs and the slick hairdo, that’s the over-the-top skull and crossbones. Regular people are naturally repulsed by it. You don’t get numbers that way. It’s faddish. Almost no one gives a life of devotion to that kind of ridiculousness, and the ones that do end up in jail or dead by their own hands.
“The Satanic Cult is a distractive tool, nothing more. And besides…”
He leaned forward.
“…who needs a cult when you have a church?”
Philip cast his eyes about the room, allowing his words to penetrate all who were listening and picturing the millions who would soon also hear.
“That’s right, detective. Satan has a church, and it ain’t the guy in the goat mask surrounded by a throng of naked disciples jumping around a campfire. That’s what Satan wants you to believe his church looks like! You want to find the Devil’s church, the one true religion of Satan? Don’t look behind the goat mask. Look under the miter. You want to look though history and find Satan’s crowning achievement? His pride and joy? It isn’t any serial killer’s rampage, corporate buggering, or genocide…”
He stabbed his finger into the table.
“…it’s Catholicism!”
Lynch looked for a reaction from his partner. There was none.
Attaboy Ernie. Don’t give this guy nothin’!
Philip continued, obviously ignorant to the faith of his interviewer.
“You see, detective, it all goes back to the apostle Peter. The Catholics hang their hat
