“And that father was the first time we truly realized that it wasn't my subconscious that was responsible for the death of people, but my conscious mind.”
“My child I still sense a turbulent storm within you. You have been telling me these tales and I wonder just how much is truth and how much is a fabrication of your mind,” said Father McArthur.
“I understand your reticence in believing me father. I don’t expect absolution until I have confessed everything from my teenage years. I must go now, but I’ll leave you with something to assist you in understanding that everything I say is true. I told you how you came to be in America, but your reason for becoming a priest traveled a circuitous route.
You had promised your sponsor that you would devote your life to helping others but it would be several years and a tragic incident that would actually force you to fulfill your promise.” I slid an envelope to father McArthur before quietly leaving the confessional. He would be surprised and somewhat shocked at what he would find in that envelope. There was a detailed accounting of why he had joined the priesthood. Only one other person knew his reasons for joining, the person whom he confessed to, one who had not walked this earth for thirty years. The other item was the newspaper article concerning the death of a prominent lawyer.
The next time we met, Father McArthur would be given more evidence if it should be necessary. I needed to have him on my side in order to do what I needed to do. I would do whatever was necessary to make him believe me.