Body Count

have expired, thought Dunn; maybe that’s what happens as you grow old: body organs die one by one.

“The difference” — Koesler returned to his chair and his theme- “between the professional secret of the doctor and the confessional secret of the priest is not in the nature of the secret but in the person to whom the secret is entrusted.”

“Oh, come on now, Bob-you’re not going to pull that old cultic-character-of-the-priesthood, are you? Where the priest is somehow superhuman? Priests have come down off the mystic pedestal long ago. Definitely since the Council.”

“Well …” Koesler smiled. “Yes and no. I know priests are off the pedestal, more or less. And that’s both good news and bad. But that’s not the point here. The point here is the person to whom the information was given.”

“Huh?”

“Look, Nick, I don’t want to get too doctrinaire, but I’ve got to be sure you and I are on the same wavelength. We believe that Jesus is the son of God and so He had the power to forgive sin.”

“Don’t go too fast, Bob.” Dunn’s sarcasm was evident.

“I know, I know … but be patient; this is going somewhere, Koesler advised.

“Now, we also believe He gave this power to forgive sin to His apostles. He told them that when they forgave sins, the sins were forgiven. But if they would not forgive sins, those sins remained unforgiven. Since there was a dual responsibility-to forgive or deny forgiveness-it seemed appropriate to determine the state of the penitent’s conscience and what sins had been committed. And so, there’s confession.

“The method of hearing confession developed over the centuries. Probably it was the Celtic monks of the sixth century who incorporated the private confession to a priest with forgiveness without public penance, denunciation, or any public or legal consequences. With that, each person’s sins became a private matter.

“A little later on, the confessional booth was introduced in Spain to get rid of some abuses. Whatever. In any case, once you got sins privately confessed and forgiven, along with a private place as the setting, you also got anonymity for the penitent-and unconditional confidentiality. And that was the practice until, in the mid-sixteenth century, the Council of Trent rejected the claim that there ever could be an adequate reason for violating the seal of confession. And that’s the way it’s pretty much been ever since-total, absolute, and unconditional.”

Dunn looked askance. “‘Celtic monks’? ‘The sixth century’? ‘Trent’? You looked those up. You don’t have that kind of detail at your fingertips!”

“You’re right: I did look it up. Last night after this first came up and we apparently disagreed on an issue that I consider of prime importance.

“Put it this way: I didn’t want to lose this argument on some flimsy technicality.”

“Have we gotten where you’re going yet?” Dunn asked. “I still don’t see any compelling reason why the seal can’t admit an exception. Everything else does.”

“I could take exception to your ‘Everything else does, ’ but for the moment, let’s stick to confession.

“Now, a gentleman we know as Guido Vespa-thanks to your identification” — Koesler still did not wish to acknowledge that he himself had seen the man-“came to confession yesterday. He confided in me-and, although he didn’t know it at the time, to you too-that he had committed murder. He told me this not because I am a doctor, a lawyer, or any other public professional, but because I am a priest. And, in the last analysis, not even because I am a priest. You’ve heard of the expression in loco parentis?”

“‘In the place of the parent, ’” Dunn correctly translated. “Somebody who is not the parent of a child is empowered to act as if he or she were the parent-in the place of the parent. But wait a minute-“

Koesler smiled. “You know where I’m going now, don’t you? Mr. Vespa told me what was bothering his conscience because-as he was taught to believe-I was taking the place of Jesus. I was taking the place of God. Not in loco parentis, but in loco Dei. He definitely would not have told me-or you or any other priest-if he had not implicitly believed he was going through a person who was able to forgive his sin. Because that person had received his commission to forgive sin from Jesus, the son of God.

“Me.

“Vespa believed that I have that power because Jesus gave it to the apostles and they passed the power on through their successors. He believes that because that’s what we taught him. If he were really wearing his eyes of faith, he would not be confessing to me-he would not even be seeing me. He would believe he was confessing to God. If God wanted to reveal the sin, He could. But I don’t believe God ever would.

“And that, in a nutshell, my dear Father Dunn, is why there are no exceptions to the seal. Not because there is a law against revealing a confessed sin. Although there is such a law, both in the old and the new Code of Canon Law-which, by the way, the Church is so firm about that violating the seal is one of only five remaining sins still punishable by excommunication reserved to the Holy See.

“And, yes, I looked that up, too,” he added parenthetically.

“But it’s not law that makes us keep these secrets inviolate; it’s because when we hear confessions, we are eavesdropping. The penitent is not talking to us. The penitent talks to God. And the penitent would not have said a word to us in that setting if he or she had not been led to believe that we were standing in for God. In loco Dei.

“And besides all that, the rule of thumb for the confessor is that he do nothing- nothing-that would make confession odious, repugnant, offensive to the penitent. That’s why, by the way, the priest can’t even bring up outside the confessional any sins that have been confessed-unless, that is, the penitent wants to talk about them and brings the subject up spontaneously. The confessional, Nick, is a world set apart. It’s a haven for the sinner with God.”

Koesler’s silence indicated his explication was completed and that he now awaited Dunn’s reaction.

There was no reaction.

“Well …” Koesler finally prompted.

“I don’t know, ” Dunn said at last. “I’m going to have to think about it. Maybe it’s just a reaction to all those unforgiving absolutes of the past-but I’ve got a problem admitting that anything admits of no exception at all. I’m going to have to think about it. That’s the best I can tell you.”

“Okay, you think about it. But,” Koesler admonished, “while you’re thinking, don’t do anything. Don’t speak to anyone about what you heard-not even to me anymore. Don’t do anything that would in any way link the murder of Father Keating to the man we heard confess that sin.”

“Okay, ” Dunn agreed, after some hesitation.

Koesler nodded. “Now I’m going to rest up a bit and get ready for dinner later on. Six all right for you, Nick?”

Dunn nodded.

“Then I’ll meet you here.” Koesler left the dining area for his room upstairs. He was exhausted, not only from his marathon of sermons this morning, but also from the extensive apologia for the sacrament of confession. As he stretched out on his bed, his last conscious thought was a wish that Guido Vespa had whispered as Koesler had more than once urged. If only Vespa had followed Koesler’s direction, Dunn would not have overheard and Koesler would have been spared this argumentation and contention. On the other hand, maybe it was a blessing that he was able to head off this young priest before he violated the seal and would have to go to the Pope himself for absolution.

In the final analysis, Koesler did not need any complication from any other source. It would be plenty hard enough for him to keep this secret. He could not let anyone-including Dunn-know just how hard. All that Dunn said was true enough: Vespa was a career killer, and to keep silence was to leave him free to kill again.

But there were no exceptions. There were no exceptions.

And so, on to a troubled nap.

4

Inspector Walter Koznicki, long-time head of the Detroit Police Department’s Homicide Division, took the steps. The elevators at 1300 Beaubien were working, but Koznicki felt that he too needed to work.

Koznicki was slightly over six feet tall; his weight at his recent physical examination was 250 pounds. Wanda,