William Bernhardt - Criminal intent

"Was Kate McGuire one of the women who had been with Father Beale?"

"Oh, yes. Many times. And so were the other two women who were killed."

"And was she one of the women who wanted Father Beale to stop these sexual activities? To leave?"

"One of the strongest. Kate got into some major fights with him. She was having a breakdown, truth be told. She couldn't handle it any more. She was undergoing a major guilt attack. She was engaged to be married, you know, even while this was going on. She felt dirty all the time, couldn't get clean. She'd shower three times a day, but it didn't help. And she couldn't get any help from her spiritual advisor-because he was the one who had dirtied her."

"Was she doing anything other than fighting with him?"

"Yes. She made threats-we all heard them. She said if he didn't stop it, she'd report him to the ecclesiastical court." She let out a wry, bitter chuckle. "He kept saying there was nothing wrong with what we were doing. Fine then-let's hear it from the bishop." She lowered her eyes. "I suspect he would've had a different viewpoint."

"So she threatened to expose him?"

"She threatened to blow the whole thing wide open. Father Beale would never have worked again-if she hadn't been killed. In his office."

The leaden silence that blanketed the courtroom was almost unbearable. Ben tried to shake it off, tried not to let these stunning revelations prevent his brain from functioning.

"Why have you come forward now?"

Carol thought several moments before answering. "I feel bad about it. I feel like I'm betraying everyone in the church. Exposing everyone's secrets. But-that's why we couldn't get anything done. Because everything was a secret. No one wanted to talk about it." She lowered her head. "I just thought-if someone doesn't talk about it someday, it will never stop. Never. And I couldn't stand that. I just… couldn't stand it."

"I think we all know what you're saying," Canelli murmured.

"You can't understand what it was like," Carol said, her voice cracking. "St. Benedict's meant so much to me. When I first came here, I was a mess, but the people at St. Benedict's helped me find my way. Helped me find my center. I used to say that church must've been built on holy ground-that's how much it meant to me. And now, to have all that taken away, stolen, and transformed into something grotesque and horrible and… dirty." Tears poured down her face. She braced herself against the railing, barely able to hold herself up. "I couldn't bear it. None of us could."

"Thank you," Canelli said quietly. He turned toward Ben. "Your witness." Ben pushed himself to his feet, his brain racing at the speed of light. What could he do with her? Her delicate emotional state made any rough tactics impossible. What could he hope to accomplish? She didn't testify that Father Beale had committed the murder, not exactly. She had just supplied the motive, the emotional prop for the eyewitness and physical evidence that was already incriminating him.

Father Beale had remained silent throughout her testimony-no quizzical expressions, no outbursts, no scribbled notes. Ben leaned close to him and whispered one question.

"Is she lying?"

It took him a moment to respond, but when he did, what he said was unequivocal. "No."

"Mr. Kincaid," Judge Pitcock said. "The witness is yours."

"No questions," Ben answered. "Nothing for this witness."

The judge's double-take lasted barely a second; he was too seasoned a pro to let his thoughts show. "This is your last chance, Mr. Kincaid. To examine this witness on behalf of your… client." Even without an accompanying facial expression, the simple way he said the word was enough to tell Ben what Judge Pitcock thought of his client now. The jurist whose decisions were driven by a respect for family values was not likely to be a fan of the wife-swapping priest. There would be no more favors from him.

"No questions, your honor."

"Very well. Mr. Canelli?"

"That's all we have, your honor. The prosecution rests."

Pitcock glanced at his watch. "Very well. I think we've had enough for today. We'll start tomorrow morning at nine with the first witness for the defense." He gave the jury the usual instructions, then adjourned.

Ben didn't waste any time. "Everyone leaves by the rear exit. Conference at the office in thirty minutes."

He looked down at Father Beale, trying not to let what he was thinking and feeling show in his face. "That includes you."

"I'll be there," Beale replied. "I'll have the marshals take me directly. No dinner stop."

"Good." Ben turned toward Christina. "Order in food. We're going to be working late."

"Understood."

"No talking to the press. Not one word. Nothing they can use on the ten o'clock news. Not even a 'no comment.' "

"Got it."

"Good. Now let's get the hell out of here."

For once, Ben did not mentally rehash the day's trial as he left the courtroom. Far from it-he tried to put it out of his mind. He knew what had just happened-far too well. In a few short minutes, everything had changed. The problems he confronted now were not the same ones that had faced him before. The trial he was working now was not the same trial he had been working before. And the man he was defending was not the same person he had been defending a few moments before-and never would be to Ben again.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ben demanded.

Father Beale wasn't making eye contact. "It isn't the sort of thing that comes up in casual conversation."

"I told you that you had to tell me everything. Everything that could possibly be relevant to the trial."

"I didn't see that it was relevant."

"You didn't? The real reason there's so much antipathy against you in that church, and you didn't think it mattered?"

"I didn't think it would come up. I didn't think anyone would talk. We made a promise to one another, a solemn oath. How was I to know that Carol would-"

"You weren't supposed to guess what witnesses might do. That's my job! But I can't do it if I don't know everything there is to know about them. I was blindsided in there! Canelli destroyed us, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it because I didn't know what the hell was going on!"

Ben braced himself against the conference table. He knew this tirade wasn't going to get them anywhere. But he couldn't help himself. Part of it was despair-he knew what had happened to their case in the courtroom today. But there was more. Irrational or not, he also felt a sense of… betrayal.

"Let's all calm down for a moment and figure out what we need to do next," Christina said. She was the only other person in the room, and given the delicate matters to be discussed, Ben suspected Father Beale would probably prefer she weren't around. Too damn bad. Ben needed her-now more than ever. "What's happened has happened. We need a plan."

Ben threw his hands up. "A plan? As if we had a choice. Here's our plan. Father Beale has to take the witness stand."

Beale looked up. "I thought you were opposed to that."

"I was opposed to it! I'm still opposed to it. Don't you understand? We don't have any choice!"

"Ben," Christina said, "we have other people we could call. Character witnesses and such."

"And believe me, we will. But that's not going to cut it. Because at this point, the only thing the jurors are going to care about is the Great St. Benedict's Wife-Swap-A-Rama. And who are we going to get to testify about that? Dr. Ruth?"

"Actually," Father Beale said, "wife-swapping is a rather sexist term. We prefer to call ourselves lifestyle couples."

"Don't give me your little PC lecture. I don't care what you call yourselves!"

"Ben…" Christina said.

"Well, I don't!"