William Bernhardt - Criminal intent

"And you also joined?"

"Yes." Carol's hand rose to her face; she bit down on her knuckle. "I didn't want to. It was my husband, Bobby. He was keen to give it a try. I guess he's… more adventurous than I am. 'What can it hurt?' he kept saying. 'Everyone's doing it. Let's just give it a go and see if we like it.' "

"So you consented."

"He kept pushing and pushing and he wouldn't stop. After a while, I couldn't say no anymore. But I still wasn't… ready. Especially for what went on at those meetings. Bobby would encourage me to dress differently, like some of the other women did. 'Come on, show off your tits and ass.' That's what he'd say. And I did it. God knows, I did it. I felt so debased. So humiliated."

"You didn't like it?"

"No." The knuckle, braced against her mouth, began to tremble. "I didn't like it at all. I thought it was evil. Sinful and evil. It disgusted me. And I wasn't the only one, either. I knew other women who felt the same way. They went along with it, but they suffered afterward. They were led to evil, tempted by the man who came to us as our spiritual leader."

"Objection," Ben said quietly. No reason to make a bigger fuss than necessary; the jury's sympathies had to be with this obviously distraught woman. "The witness is characterizing, not testifying."

Judge Pitcock nodded. "Mrs. Mason, please restrict yourself to recounting what you've actually seen or heard."

"Yes, your honor."

Canelli jumped in to guide her back on course. "Mrs. Mason, could you please describe… what took place at these meetings?"

Carol closed her eyes for a long moment, as if gathering her strength. Then, slowly and deliberately, she began. "They weren't all the same. We had several different types of meetings. At the church meetings, on Wednesday nights, we just talked, believe it or not. Father Beale would lead us in a discussion of the supposed philosophical and even Biblical underpinnings of what we were doing. His theory was that recreational sex was a healthy thing and when practiced by couples-here's the bizarre part-that it would actually strengthen our marriages. In his twisted mind, this was marriage counseling." She paused. "Other times, we would meet at someone's house or, twice a year, we'd have a retreat, usually at a somewhat secluded motel in another state."

"And why did you need privacy?"

Her voice dropped off. "I would think that was obvious."

"What did you do on these retreats?"

Carol seemed tired, without energy, like a rag doll with her stuffings ripped out. "Imagine the worst. Mix a nudist camp with an orgy scene from some Roman gladiator movie, and you've just about got it."

"You didn't wear clothes?"

"That was left to the individual, but when we were in our private meetings, most people wore… well, less than they normally would. Or nothing at all. Booze flowed freely; that made it easier for some people. We'd do nude swimming. Messing around in hot tubs. Sometimes we'd all watch porn videos, just to get worked up. Sometimes we would play little games."

"Games?"

"Icebreakers. You know, to get to know one another."

"Such as?"

"Oh, God." She pressed a hand against a temple. "We played one that was kind of like spin the bottle, only instead of giving kisses, if the bottle pointed to you, you'd have to… perform oral gratification. We had a sundae party, where people smeared whipped cream and toppings on themselves and you had to lick it off. The men had a contest once to see who had the longest tongue, for… obvious reasons. One night we lined up in a big chain, like a bunny hop, except we were naked and the music was Ravel's Bolero, and we all performed massages on one another."

"The purpose of these games, I suppose, was to… stimulate sexual interest?"

"Yes. And help decide who was going off with whom."

"And once the pairing was complete?"

"It varied. Sometimes, we'd do private encounters in separate rooms. And sometimes… not." She drew in her breath, steeling herself. "Some people liked to watch-they'd stand there and observe while their spouse made love to another person. Sometimes we'd all do it in the same big living room. Together. Me and the Altar Guild ladies and the preschool teachers and whoever else." Her voice choked, like a gagging reflex was kicking in. "One big Christian orgy."

"You're telling us that… sexual intercourse took place?"

"In every way, shape and form that you can imagine. Wanna do it a little differently from the way your spouse does it? Here's your big chance. You like bondage? There'd be somebody there with your taste. Into pain? Someone's waiting for you."

"And you took part in this activity?"

Carol closed her eyes tightly, but a tear still crept through. "Yes. I did. To my eternal shame. Me and all my friends, all the people I loved most in the world."

"And Father Beale also took part in this sexual activity?"

"Took part? He was the main man."

Again, Ben could feel the heat of the jury's eyes. He was only glad Andrea had excused herself from the courtroom-at Ben's suggestion. Ben knew the jury would notice she was gone, but it was better that they see the empty seat than that they see the priest's wife break down in open court.

"He had sex with other women in the church?"

"Anyone. Anyone he could get."

"Including…"

"Yes," she said, speaking more quietly than before. "Even me."

"And his wife knew about this?"

"Of course she did. She was there. This was a couples event, remember? I don't think she ever enjoyed it. I don't think she derived pleasure from watching her husband-the-priest prance around like a great big stud horse. But she certainly knew. We all knew."

"How long did this last?"

Carol considered. "I would guess it ran for close to three years without any serious problems. Then everything started to unravel. I wasn't the only one who was getting sickened by it. Helen Conrad was the first to admit it. She got a group of the women together and we talked. Helen was so racked with guilt I thought she might be suicidal. She prayed for forgiveness all day long-but never found any relief. After she was killed, I think we all secretly wondered if she had been punished for what she had done. And which one of us might be next. We wanted it to stop, or at the very least, to stop having the official imprimatur of our church. But Father Beale wouldn't hear of it. He thought we were doing something important, something progressive. He was really into it. And he didn't want it to end."

"What was the result?"

"The result was that Father Beale began having problems with the church, the vestry, the parishioners. First it was just a few of us, but it grew beyond that. There was definitely a backlash on all fronts. It was like, Okay, we've had our fun. Let's end this before we get caught. But Father Beale wouldn't consent. He wouldn't-or couldn't-quit. He was totally addicted to it-the sex, the power, the women."

"Was this when the vestry began to have serious disagreements with Father Beale?"

"Yes. I mean, we never said, 'Hey, this is because we want the orgies to stop.' We couldn't put that in the minutes, could we? Especially not when copies go to the bishop. We never publicly acknowledged what we were doing, not outside the Liberated Christian meetings. But that's what the dissension was all about."

"Had some of the vestry members been… involved?"

"Yeah, all of them, I think. Except Ruth O'Connell and Ernestine Rupert, and they certainly knew about it. By the time last year rolled around, Father Beale was confronted by a vestry that was almost uniformly opposed to him. We talked about politics and liturgical issues, but that wasn't what was in our hearts. What we wanted most. We all knew it wasn't about… gay rights, or whatever. It was about getting rid of the priest who had turned our sweet little church into a whorehouse."