Love the Neighbor Part 1- The Cleric

Neighbors can shed a lot of light on a community. That could be no more useful than it the case of East New York Avenue. Of course, neighbors can be a vital source of support, in many ways. At the same time, neighborhoods are often riven with disputes, enmities and feuds. So it is that the injunction to “love thy neighbor” often falls by the wayside. The comments I make at this point are not meant to make specific accusations against specific people. Everyone who reads the trial transcripts critically must try to find the truth; to separate the wheat from the tares; the gold from the dross. Of course, it is always theoretically possible that the field has nothing but tares. In reality, it may look like that. But a lot of careful searching should turn up wheat once in a while. The characters in the great melodrama are up for examination, and the words must be tested. Can one speak definitively about mysterious events so shrouded in layers and layers of lies and deception? Absolutely not! And I have no doubts about my complete lack of any semblance of infallibility. The odds certainly favor me being wrong! If I were a betting man, I would surely bet against myself. So I approach some of the testimony as an exercise in literary criticism, defined as “the art or practice of judging and commenting on the qualities and character of literary works.” An academic exercise that is, in the end, academic.

Still, of all the people who should stand enthusiastically behind one of Christ’s most enduring pronouncements, I would think it would be clerics. Clerics come in many forms, and if defined broadly as those whose calling is to act as God’s agent in the lives of those around them, we could include priests, nuns, ministers; and even more senior ones such as bishops and cardinals, or more localized ones, such as elders and deacons. Most would definitely include pastors among the religious functionaries just enumerated, such as the pastor in our story. And he answered not just the call to serve the Lord, but also to testify in court. I was excited to hear that a man of God was among those who testified. Up to that point, I read scads of testimony by lying police officers, lying defendants, and even, apparently lying ME personnel. So hearing the word of a holy man- that offered hope indeed! Hope of someone telling the truth. It became clear to me that there been a cover-up. There was the cop who was there and shouldn’t have been; and the testimony that starts the trial results in the unmistakable declaration that the truth would not be forthcoming. After all, it's hard to tell the truth when you don't see anything, hear anything, or know anything. Perhaps if things were a bit more interesting. Then…the removal of evidence from the basement, and what appears to me to have occurred, the fixing of the scene in the basement. A bold assertion, and I am no doubt wrong about that, but why should the basement be any more sacrosanct than the upstairs bedroom? After all, the body wasn’t found in the basement. No trace of the body was found in the basement. Everything pointed upstairs. But at some point, it seems like there was a deliberate attempt to substitute the basement for the upstairs bedroom; perhaps, a re-telling of the story- a story that would never be known because of the layers of lies spun around it. It’s hard to argue that there was a cover-up when the people supposedly involved in the horrors of 3850 East New York were charged and convicted. It did not work out well for them; well, most of them. So, in admitting that, there would seem to be no reason to suspect a cover-up! Unless it was more subtle than I originally thought. It would have been impossible to plead not guilty and win in this situation, unless one attempted to plead insanity. That didn’t work either. Still, the testimony is so strange, so contradictory, that if I was alive in 1965, and old enough to be present as an observer, and old enough to know what a “hung jury” is, I might be forgiven for wondering whether the plethora of obviously false and contradictory testimony wasn’t the plan itself. After all, if I was old enough in 1965 to actually be one of the jurors, I would probably find myself in considerable hot water during deliberations. Why? I would be locked in a spiritual crisis, one which the man of God might have been able to help with me! Actually, no! My spiritual crisis? Based on the testimony in court; the lies told by law enforcement; and the incredibly inept, and probably intentional, mishandling of the crime scene, as someone who likes to deceive himself into thinking that he has even a sliver of goodness in himself, I would have to declare “not guilty!” Now they could be guilty indeed, and some of them were guilty of something, just not what the canonical story would have of us believe. But what was presented seemed to do everything it could to raise just enough doubt that I would not be able to say “guilty- beyond a reasonable doubt.” And that means “not guilty.” Indeed! The three-ring circus I just watched, the bad stage-show I just sat through, the filthy sty I waded through, left more than a reasonable doubt; a lot more. Yet, I would like to think that I wasn’t the only one among the jurors who had a spiritual crisis. Alas! There was no hung jury, so I guess it’s good that I wasn’t there. 

So it’s time to turn one’s attention to the hypothetical cleric of our story, not to be confused with any persons living or otherwise. It seemed odd to me at first how religious the children were. Not the mother! But the children went to church and attended Sunday school. Maybe it just goes to show- keep a close eye on the people sitting next to you in the pew this Sunday! To quote ancient maps used by sailors that indicated the furthest reaches of the sea- “there be monsters!” And they’re just below the surface of the water in Sunday school; and even the church bus. Now I’m sure that the pastor, just like all of us, heard witnesses attesting to Sylvia’s church attendance; Sunday school attendance; the fact that she had a bible; etc. The good cleric himself stated that she and her sister came forward in church on August 22, 1965 to, as he said it, “receive Christ as their Savior.” For a churchman, charged by God with taking care of his flock, that must have been exciting indeed! And girls so young! Many put off challenging religious questions until they are old and know that it won’t be long before they’re standing in front of another churchman- St. Peter. The sick and dying suddenly find themselves in need of “stepping forward,” as it were. So two young people was a victory, or so I would think. In the testimony, he would acknowledge that he never heard Sylvia use foul language, or knew her to get in any trouble, or saw anything out of the ordinary with her. I found myself cheering when he was asked if he ever read the story of Ananias and Sapphira in the bible. Given his profession, and the required reading that went along with it, I knew he had. How well did he sum it up: “they lied in church…and they dropped dead in church.” I would like to think that had Ananias and Sapphira testified in our trial, they would have dropped dead in court! But if that were the case, and God was being fair, it seems to me that there would have been an awful lot of newly deceased lying around the court building.

I would laud him for his diligence in visiting the families of his parishioners. Spiritual house-calls. I have no doubt that he took his calling quite seriously. People are usually on their best behaviour at church. Meeting them in their homes, the frontline of domestic warfare, took an intrepid cleric. Such a one would have to be willing to step into the most trying of situations. His commitment to do so- had I gone to his church, I would have more than given him his due. But what a difficult position to find oneself in! A family who attended his church (minus one); a family he had visited numerous times; and what a horrific thing had taken place in their home. He had been in that home several times. It seems theoretically possible that questions would be raised in the community; indeed, in the church! How can you have been in that house so many times and not seen anything! To have not heard anything! With all the carnage directed at one child..to know nothing! And as I will touch on shortly..compare this with dear Mrs. Vermillion! According her, she was in the house two times. And wow! On both occasions, she was treated to a dramatic show! Such excitement for someone living a mundane life! But all is kept well hidden from our dedicated cleric. How different when the neighbour lady shows up! Paula goes on the rampage, making sure that the audience doesn’t miss any of the action. It seems odd that you would make such an effort to hide the abuse from the man of God, and then make sure that, well, lights…camera..action, when the neighbour lady is there! But maybe you would hide it from the watchful eyes of a man who, in addition to “love thy neighbour,” and a good reading of the fate of Ananias and Sapphira, would no doubt be able to quote: “do not stop the children from coming to me, for the kingdom of God belongs to them.” And so many good quotes! So many references to children and what they mean to God. I could give our good pastor plenty to use in his sermon on Sunday: “Unless you become as a child- you will never enter the kingdom of God!” And even better: “See that you do not despise even one child: For I tell you that their angels always see the face of my Father.” Jesus is referring to the eternal God of course. And best! “Whoever receives one child in my name receives me, and whoever receives me, receives not me but him who sent me.” And again, of course, Jesus speaks of God. It was not my original intention to quote the most quotable and quoted human being who ever lived, one who dared to call God his father, and declared numerous times that nothing was more precious in His eyes than children. Perhaps I should repent of so liberally spouting scripture. But! If I’m speaking to a man of God…I’m sure he’d be thrilled!

Maybe not. Now there is a theme that runs through some of the non-family testimony. Not all are treated to the spectacle that our neighborhood lady was. Our intrepid social services nurse was not allowed a glimpse of the horror unfolding in Getrude’s modern-day Colisseum. Nor the cleric, although he did know that Paula and Sylvia didn’t always get along, and she had actually punched her on one occasion. After all, kids do scrap with one another. But all seemed to get angry statements from Gertrude about what a horrible person her sixteen year old charge was. All received good grist for the legal mill. How inane it was to make such incriminating rants and raves about someone she was systematically torturing and planning to murder! Such pronouncements bespeak of an irrational hatred; a good motive for what the end-product and inevitable out-come would be. So she must have known that she’d end up staring at a jury charged with murder. And that all those people to whom she so readily provided a key motive for it all, would be sitting on the stand.

Of course, for 50 years, these people have been much maligned for knowing, and doing nothing. I think they should be much maligned. But not for knowing and doing nothing. For knowing and doing something! They all knew the truth, and they did something! Perhaps, they all knew the truth and didn’t tell it. When all is said, and everyone scrambles to admit to having committed an evil that is less than another evil, lying presents an opportunity. What is worse? I was at that house and nothing wrong was going on? But people will be convinced it was, and what will they say about me? They might say- you were there! And you did nothing! They might even toss around biblical quotes like I myself was guilty of doing earlier. If I was the one they were being hurled at, and I told the truth, no one would believe me. Then I not only knew and did nothing, I would be lying on the stand, even though I wasn’t! Or I could lie about the truth, so then I knew that I was guilty of lying, but in my heart I knew that nothing was happening, so I did nothing wrong. Until I lied of course. But the main defendant was sinking fast, despite any non-existent fanciful hopes for a hung jury, and my false testimony would only be some among many. Surely, I would not be the deciding factor! Yet! I could take an even more clever approach! Still, I’m sure it didn’t happen. But it’s literary criticism after all.

So I went along on the key visit made to the home. Since it’s not reality, I decided to don my collar and go along in the guise of a cleric. Sitting in the front room, I listened to what I deemed to be normal talk between a parent and a minister. But then! Something incredible was said. I couldn’t help jumping to my feet in absolute shock! “She mentioned one of the problems with Sylvia was skipping school and was causing her a lot of problems and this was in general and also that she had been making some advancement on older men for money…”

You couldn’t blame me for jumping to my fee! Here was this girl, who attended church, Sunday school, and was known to have not used profanity, caused problems, or been out of the ordinary in anyway. She had a bible! And we were all there when she got up in church and declared “Christ is my savior!” But now, a relatively short time later, we are told that she is really a just-reached-the-age-of-consent prostitute servicing middle-aged men with a penchant for barely-legal girls. Please note, if anyone does read this posting, this statement is not meant to malign the deceased or be disrespectful in any way. I can say this, because the statement made to the cleric is absolute nonsense! How do I know? Because he would have joined me in jumping to his feet, shocked by this statement which couldn’t possibly be true! Something was very wrong indeed! Such an outrageous thing to say! So unbelievably extreme! The two of us would have turned that house upside down to find her! And it’s definitely time to call the police! This woman is insane, and has the charge of a house full of those to whom the kingdom of God belongs. This woman is evil! And after studying all the quotes about children we could find, they must be delivered from the clutches of this monster. But no! Nothing is too out of the ordinary. I scratched my head in confusion, trying to remember how many parishioners, and this woman didn’t even attend church(!), casually explained to us that there was at least one minor in the household who was a prostitute selling herself to middle-aged men on the streets. Could anything else be more out of the ordinary?

But we’re not done yet! She tells us that she has her locked in an upstairs bedroom. This girl wasn’t even her daughter. She was only staying with this woman as a boarder. And the woman of the house has created her own private prison cell for her! That’s in addition to the torture chamber in the basement. It seems to me that you can’t simply imprison someone else’s child in a room in the house, even if it is 1965. At the very least, I expected us to the call the police and have them investigate immediately! What conditions exist in this cell? Does she receive a prisoner’s food ration? And then we talk to her sister, who says that the girl sneaks down at night and takes everyone’s food, even the baby’s milk. So the prison door must not always be locked! Oh, no! Or she wouldn’t be able to get to the kitchen. One might expect that during those times when the cell isn’t locked, she would leave. Escape is easy when cell door isn’t locked. I pointed out in a previous posting that the same implication appears in the trial testimony about the unlocked door to the basement. So when I heard the sister, I found myself thinking…for something that couldn’t be more out of the ordinary, it just got more out of the ordinary. How right we were to insist on seeing this poor girl! And we were about to, and I started feeling better. Indeed! The keeper of the prison said we could! But then he sister appears, and we are told that it is sufficient to speak to her. Hah! I laughed. No way! We will talk to the girl locked in the bedroom upstairs. I was shocked to find out that it was deemed unnecessary, now that the sister had confirmed that the girl upstairs had been naughty. Oh, yes! She took food and told lies! As far as the sister’s statement- I was not impressed. This is a far cry from telling us that the girl was a prostitute! That is what weighs heavy on my heart…I don’t care one bit about the food, the milk, or the lies! But then we left, and never visited the girl locked in the bedroom upstairs. Maybe she hadn’t been granted visiting rights.

Wait just a minute! I just thought of something strange. Well, everything the cleric said was strange. But as far as what he said…I didn’t think it up! He did. Yet, I can still think of something strange nonetheless. If we flash forward, maybe only a week or so... Wait, let’s flash forward to the evening of October 26th. We see Officer Dixon. Of course, he doesn’t see us! We aren’t interesting after all. Then Gertrude hands him a note; a Gang of Boys note. She didn’t write that note. Sylvia didn’t either. It may have been written in the basement not long after Sylvia died, and it was then switched out with Gertrude’s note. This topic is discussed elsewhere on this site. The ‘why’ isn’t important. But the ‘what” is important. What is the what? Sylvia died at the hands of a gang of men. Did they kidnap her? Maybe, grab her off the sidewalk as she was walking home? No. She was prostituting herself. She was walking the streets somewhere and got in a car with a gang of boys. How many? Kaiser thinks that it takes 5 boys to make up a gang of boys. Nonetheless, a gang is more than 3 boys. 2 is a duo; and 3 is a trio. And 4 is a quartet! I think Kaiser was right, since he appears to have known about a dangerous gang of 5 men. Yet, I have doubts that a lone, 16 years old prostitute would get in a car with a gang of boys. Street prostitutes know better than anyone that they are prime targets of sadists and serial killers. She might keep a knife on her. That might work well against 1 of the gang, but what about the others? A prostitute going off by herself with a gang is taking an incredible chance. Why not get one of her fellow streetwalkers to pitch in, as it were? At any rate, the cleric says that Gertrude said that she was keeping Sylvia locked in the bedroom upstairs to keep her from street-walking. Of course, Shirley, Marie, and Jenny also sleep in that room. That might explain why the bedroom is kept unlocked at night. And yet! The Gang of Boys note says this:

I went with a gang of boys in the middle of the night. 

This makes sense. Night is the time when this activity gets in full swing. So if Gertrude wrote the note, or made Sylvia write the note, then it seems absurd that she would tell the cleric that she was keeping Sylvia locked in the bedroom during the day to prevent her street-walking, but leaving the cell-door unlocked in the evening, seeing how it is during that time that such activity takes place. Gertrude would know that. So here we have another ludicrous element in the canonical story and inherited wisdom.
 
I find myself thinking that an interesting situation now stands before me. A subtle twist, and one that’s easy to miss. I was there, but I didn’t see anything. I was going to check it out, but then I didn’t. Why? Because I was tricked! As if Eve stood beside me, she too was tricked! Maybe Esau! Jacob tricked his brother into giving up his birth-right for a bowl of soup! Then, the deed unknown to their father Isaac, it was time for Esau to receive his inheritance as the first-born. That was not to be. Once you start deceiving, you must continue deceiving. And that makes it a lot like lying. When Esau appears before their blind and dying father, Jacob must now deceive his father. And who is behind the final deception? Jacob’s mother. But at least she was actually the mother. So as brothers do, sisters do as well, it would seem. At least in 1965. That depends, of course, on being able to believe that the entire story isn’t nonsense. Not the story of Jacob, Esau, and the mother; I refer to the one that played out 50 years ago in Indiana.

 So I conclude by saying that I am not making any specific accusations. I am simply reading and responding to the testimony given during the trial. Hypothetically, if nothing happened when I was there, but it would be believed that it did, I could find myself compromised indeed, even though I didn’t do anything wrong. I could lie, which is wrong, to hide the fact that I didn’t do anything wrong because nothing wrong was going on. But I was deceived! So I lie about being deceived. If it wasn’t 1965, but actually 2,000 years ago, I just might find myself staring at a man who made a very simple, and yet never more important in-Indiana-in-1965 pronouncement: “See to it that you are not deceived.”