wall.
"Now, I think I have your undivided attention, with no likelihood of interruption," said Peter with a smile. "Once again, I don't want any of you to feel uncomfortable, or to be wondering about WHY each of you knows what it feels like to believe you were responsible for killing someone. It's enough to know that's the case. Because you're all familiar with that feeling, and how horrible it is and how guilty it made you feel, I know you won't question or judge each other. And perhaps you won't question or judge me when you find out why I have to leave for six months--why the police are coming to take me. And if you don't question or judge me, then maybe you'll be willing to carry on my work while I'm gone."
We just stared at him. The awful reality of what he was telling us was starting to sink in, making us all feel very depressed. Why was this happening? Not Peter! Not him, of all people!
He suddenly smiled broadly. "Hey guys, cheer up! You look like a bunch of mice that just found out you ate moldy cheese! You've been through this! You learned the power of Jesus and the power of forgiveness, and especially the power of forgiving yourselves! You've seen the power of loving people, and how that heals you! I don't want you to become disillusioned about me and what I've done in the past, but hey--it's who I am. It's part of my past, just like it's part of yours."
He fiddled with the corner of Harry's file for a moment. We knew that he was now going to tell us what had happened in his past--who he'd killed. And I found myself wishing very much that he wouldn't.
"Janell, you were wrong," he said after a long pause. "I was a member of a gang once. It wasn't called the Wolverines, but it was an honest to goodness gang. In New York City. And one day there was a fight and a few people died. And when it all went through the courts, I was convicted of manslaughter."
To my surprise, tears were welling up in Peter's eyes. But I could tell he was determined to tell us his story. And I suddenly realized that at a different time and in a different way, each one of us had told him our story, about who we'd killed. For me, it had been that day I told him about my abortion when he came to help Mom.
"You see," he continued slowly, "my brother was in this gang, and he got me to join. I didn't want to. I didn't like violence. I hated it. So I never got into the fights. I avoided them. And I was planning to leave the city and the gang forever when this fight happened. All I needed was a few more months until I graduated from high school. But I never ended up graduating."
That sounded familiar.
"In this big fight I found myself fighting a guy I didn't want to fight. And it became increasingly clear to me that it was kill or be killed. And you know what?" His upper lip was trembling. "I struggled with that ..." He was having a hard time keeping his voice under control. "I wasn't sure I wanted his death on my conscience. I was scared, but I was starting to think maybe I should let him win the fight."
Janell gave him a weak smile. "I wasn't wrong, Peter. You were never a member of any gang."
He smiled back at her, probably wanting to make a joke of it like he usually did. But he couldn't. All he could do was continue his story.
"I pulled back my knife, since I was thinking I'd throw it on the ground," he said in a strained voice. "But somehow that action somehow distracted my opponent and then he slipped and fell on my knife ..."
He didn't need to say any more. We knew what had happened. And that bizarre question leapt into all of our minds that we'd asked ourselves in respect to our own killing. Was he responsible? Or was he innocent? Obviously he was innocent as far as we were concerned. But no one could deny he HAD been in a gang fight, and HAD been holding a knife that killed someone, and HAD been convicted in the courts ...
"Like I said, the conviction was for manslaughter," he said calmly. "I spent two and a half years in prison for it, then was released on parole with the condition of doing community service--which is what I've been doing here. But it was always understood that I would need to return for six more months of prison time, to fully complete my sentence. And tomorrow at 2:00 o'clock, that is what will happen."
We were all silent, each lost in our own thoughts. "Oh, Peter! Peter!" I found myself thinking. "I am SO sorry for you! I know just how you feel. I know precisely how you feel. And I am so sorry this happened to you."
There was no doubt everyone else around the table was thinking the same thing.
"It may or may not be best for the other members of the 'Jesus Raiders' to know why I'm gone--I'll leave it up to the four of you to decide, as to whether to tell them."
As I glanced quickly around the table, I had a strong suspicion the others felt as I did. They would NOT tell the true reason, since that would just prejudice other members of the club against him--members who, unlike us, would not understand because they had not been through it themselves. And it was only too obvious that is precisely why he had chosen us four to take over for him while he was gone.
He suddenly let out a long breath, as if he had been unable to breathe for some time. "Well, now that's done, I think you all understand what's expected of you. These folders contain many projects that have been lined up in each of your areas. You are responsible to arrange other projects in your areas as well, to keep the Jesus Raiders busy and active. I have no doubt everything will be running just dandy upon my return. In fact," he added with a wicked smile, "I'm partly tempted to not even return at all--"
"NO WAY!" we all shouted at once. "Don't even THINK about it!" said Janell, slugging his arm. He couldn't slug her back of course since she was a girl.
"No Janell," he said with a smile. "I would never even think about it. I've found my life's calling. I'm a 'lifer' with the J Raiders! You know darn well I'll be back."
Suddenly he turned and waved to the interior of his house. "This will be your headquarters. Use it freely."
After that, there wasn't much else to say. So he rather awkwardly showed us the rest of the elegantly remodeled house, and kindly let us raid his refrigerator. And then he 'just happened' to remember that Mrs. Jones was expected help in about an hour to paint her back porch ...
So there you have it, journal. The last story has been told, and my therapist will be ecstatic. Peter is gone now, and I'm doing my best to fill in for him in the North Pittsburgh area. It isn't easy. I never knew how hard he worked, or all he did. The poor guy must not have had time to sleep, handling all four areas of Pittsburgh by himself! No wonder he was never able to watch that big screen TV!
Jonathon is helping me do my job of course. He encourages me almost every night in my dreams. And I'd like to think that many times during the day he comes down as well, just to give me a little push, or a little bit of extra strength, or to put an encouraging thought into my mind.
Jonathon, oh Jonathon! If only I had let you live! It's true I never would have gotten to know Peter and the 'Jesus Raiders', but I would have happily traded that in an instant just to have you, and to hold you, and to love you. How I wish I had done things differently. Oh, how I wish I'd done things differently.
But I didn't. And I have finally come to terms with it, and have forgiven myself for it.
Thanks for your love Jonathon. And thanks for forgiving me, and helping me to forgive myself.
Next year, after Peter comes back, I'm going to go back to Mack. I think I'm almost ready to be an anti-abortion activist. I'm ready to stand firm for that position, but to do it in a spirit of love and compassion. Unfortunately there are a lot of Dorothy Macks still in the world. But rather than bash them over the head or yell at them, I'd rather love them instead--just love them while carrying forward my message, learned from painful experience, that abortion is very, very wrong.
And Jonathon will help me. I know he will.
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[email protected] OTHER BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR
Nonfiction
The Ninth Amendment: Key to Understanding the Bill of Rights. Thi
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Judicial Activism: A Way to Overcome It. Judicial activism in the U.S. occurs when a few Supreme Court judges decide public policy issues, which normally deal with rights. However, it would be better for the people to decide such issues through their elected representatives. This book proposes a way to remove judicial activism, by returning to an original view of the founding fathers that preferred legislative oversight of rights issues.
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