Assault with Intent Page 19

  Heinsohn leaned back, a smug smile creasing his unseasonably tanned face.

  “I must say, Doctor,” Lauther found it necessary to say, “that you certainly have done your homework.”

  “Bullshit,” Deutsch snapped.

  Koesler took note of the fact that Deutsch was a chainsmoker. He also noticed that the writer’s hands were trembling ever so slightly. Like a man who needed a drink.

  “If you pause to ponder this definition,” Heinsohn proceeded, unabashed, “you will readily reflect that it describes our assailant to a T.”

  “It does?” Lauther wondered.

  “Of course. Thompson, another psychiatrist, commenting on this definition, listed the outstanding manifestations of the sociopath as impulsiveness and a diminished superego.”

  “Lots of id, eh?” Deutsch asked derisively.

  “In a sense.” Heinsohn was not about to be provoked. “Consider our assailant. He has attacked four, perhaps five, priests. He has attacked once with a knife; once,” he nodded toward Koesler, “with poison; and two, perhaps three times with a gun. From the very nature of the devices he has used, it is safe to assume that he has intended to kill. Yet he has managed to inflict only one wound amid all this violence. And that wound, while not superficial, was quickly healed.

  “Does not all this point to a person who is not planning carefully? Who is acting impulsively? Who is learning neither from experience nor punishment?” Heinsohn clearly intended this series of questions as rhetorical.

  The silence that followed seemed appropriate.

  “Is this not the kind of person who is always in trouble?” Heinsohn pressed his point. “In each case, he acts alone. Does not this reveal a type who has no loyalty to any other person or group? Certainly, his failures indicate a type who is lacking in judgment.”

  More silence.

  “And there, gentlemen and Father,” Heinsohn concluded, “I submit you have a parallel between the assailant and the classic definition of the sociopathic personality.” He spread his hands expansively as if demonstrating all the cards were on the table.

  Still more silence.

  “Well,” said Heinsohn finally, since no one else showed any inclination to speak, “what do you all think?”

  “I’d say,” said Lauther, “that was a pretty impressive presentation. Personally, I’m pretty well convinced that you’ve nailed it down. I’m willing to go with it. The act of a sociopath. I love it. We’re going to have to write in the role of a forensic psychiatrist. Say! With your looks …what would you say to doing a cameo, Doctor? Play yourself in the film. You’ll be going to the police with your magnificent profile of the killer—potential killer—won’t you? By George, I like it. What do you think, Herm?”

  “Bullshit.” Deutsch lit one cigarette from another.

  “If I may say so, Mr. Deutsch,” said Heinsohn with a pained expression, “that remark is rather repetitive, unimaginative, and not very constructive.”

  “And that, too, is bullshit.” Deutsch coughed.

  “If you don’t mind, Doctor …” Koesler spoke almost apologetically, as if reluctant to intrude in another’s field of expertise. “There may be another side to the coin.”

  “Oh?” Heinsohn seemed genuinely startled that anyone would question his rhetoric.

  “I am thinking specifically,” said Koesler, “of the timing of these attacks. I believe it is the timing which indicates that not only are we not dealing with a sociopath, but we are also not dealing with only one person. In each instance, the attack was made at an optimum moment for the assailant. Father Gennardo, for example, always paced the inner courtyard of this building at the same time each day … a time when no one else was likely to be there.

  “Then, there’s Father Merrit. Each morning at the same time, he leaves the seminary to offer Mass at a parish. It is so early an hour that nobody else is likely to be around. An ideal time for an assailant to strike.

  “And,” Koesler smiled, “there is my own experience. I dine at the seminary every Friday evening. I always check my mailbox after dinner, as do the other faculty members, for any notes or messages. Early Friday evening was the perfect time to place the bottle in my mailbox.

  “You’ll find the same conditions true in the other incidents. Father Ward always brought the skull to his classroom the evening before his class would be reading about poor Yorick. And Father Sklarski always took his clothes to the cleaners at the same time each week.

  “I think it obvious, gentlemen and Doctor, that, far from acting impulsively or with lack of judgment, the perpetration of these acts was extremely well planned and involved a level of surveillance that would seem to require the participation of more than one person.”

  Several moments of silence followed Koesler’s presentation. Herman Deutsch felt that if it were possible for him to like a man of the cloth, this priest had brought him close to that emotion.

  “No offense intended, Father, but let’s leave the psychological diagnoses to the professionals.” Lauther was obviously reluctant to part with Heinsohn’s hypothetical characterization.

  “Father has a point,” Heinsohn conceded with a slight smile, “but I think you’re leaning too heavily on it. It is quite possible for a sociopath to plan—even with as much care as you attribute to him—and yet at the moment of attack to act impulsively and then to fail—as our assailant has on each occasion that we know of. I think there are sufficient indications of sociopathology that I will stick to my diagnosis.”

  Koesler noted Heinsohn had substituted the verb think for the stronger am convinced that he had earlier used.

  “Fine,” Lauther glowed, “now, let’s get on to the motive. And I wonder if, at this point, I might introduce the concept of sex.”

  “Sex?” blurted Koesler.

  “It was only a matter of time,” Deutsch commented wryly.

  “Absolutely! Of course!” said an eager Heinsohn.

  Lauther was growing increasingly convinced that he was going to appreciate Heinsohn even more as time went by.

  “In Linder’s view,” Heinsohn leaned forward and made a steeple formation with his fingers, “sociopathic behavior begins as a function of hatred for the father, which is complicated by an unsatisfactory dependent identification with the mother.”

  “Excuse me, Doctor,” Lauther interrupted, “but what does any of that have to do with sex?”

  “I am coming to that.” Heinsohn was unruffled. “Don’t you see already? It’s classic. Hatred for the father. Identification with the mother. It’s the classic formation of the homosexual.”

  “Homosexual?” Lauther blanched.

  “Gay?” Deutsch chuckled.

  “Yes. To the sociopath, women represent his own mother. To have sexual intercourse with any woman would, for him, be an incestuous relationship. So he turns to other men for sexual gratification.”

  “This will never do,” said Lauther.

  “However,” Heinsohn continued, oblivious of Lauther’s objection, “since the sociopath hates his father, the sexual expression will tend to be violent. So, you see, what we have here is a sociopath as well as a sadistic homosexual. And the ultimate expression of this personality is the murder of his father. Only, in this instance, the victims are the fathers in the seminary. Fathers who, though unmarried, teach young men to become priests. Unmarried Fathers who make other unmarried Fathers. What a perfect target for the sociopath!” Heinsohn spread his arms wide. It had been an impressive performance, he was sure. Yet only the priest seemed impressed. Lauther appeared to be fighting some inner battle, while Deutsch was clearly amused.

  After several moments of silence, “We are talking,” Lauther spoke slowly and deliberately as if instructing a backward, child, “about prime-time network television. About network television in prime time. Nine o’clock Eastern, eight o’clock Central and Mountain. On a commercial network.”

  This meticulous explanation was obviously for Heinsohn’s benefit. But the docto
r seemed unaware of its import.

  “So?” Heinsohn wondered aloud.

  “So,” Lauther continued, “when was the last time you saw depicted on network prime time a sadomasochistic homosexual couple carrying on fairly graphically?”

  Since he had never seen such a sight, Heinsohn was silent. It was Lauther’s turn to ask the rhetorical questions.

  “No, Doctor,” Lauther continued, “I’m afraid this will never do.”

  “But why must you include graphic sex?” Heinsohn asked.

  “Oh, come now, Doctor! You do watch TV, don’t you?”

  “Not much.”

  Although most people, even some addicts of the medium, will not admit to watching much television, Dr. Heinsohn was telling the truth. His TV-less life was due to a crowded schedule rather than to specific choice.

  “Well, then, Doctor, let me bring you up to date on the most popular entertainment medium ever invented.” Lauther was not sure whether the doctor was being honest in his disavowal of logging TV time but, to be safe, the producer decided to explain, at least briefly.

  “Most of the popular prime-time shows feature two elements, violence and sex. Not too much violence and not too much sex. But not too little either. What we are aiming at, to switch media for a moment, is to produce a made-for-TV movie, which, if it were produced for the big screen, would be rated PG or, even better, B—but definitely not X.

  “We needn’t concern ourselves about the violence. This is a story of violence. The violent attacks on, perhaps attemped murders of, several presumably innocent men … .”

  Koesler was not overjoyed by the innuendo.

  “We’ve got all the violence, short of actual death, we need. But as yet, we have no sex angle at all, let alone graphic jiggles—neither ‘T’ nor ‘A.’”

  “That’s the way it frequently is with celibates,” commented Deutsch.

  “We are relying on you, Doctor,” Lauther ignored Deutsch’s remark, “to provide us with a credible sexual angle that we can treat graphically but tastefully.”

  “Tastefully! That’ll be the day!” growled Deutsch.

  “Take my word for it, Doctor. I know the type of network executive we will be dealing with. A sadomasochistic homosexual relationship simply will not do. But we’ve got to have sex.”

  There was a prolonged silence. The ball very definitely was in Heinsohn’s court.

  “Would you buy a bisexual personality?” Heinsohn ventured.

  Lauther silently but deliberately shook his head. Deutsch snorted.

  After another pregnant pause, Heinsohn said, “Well, what about an affair for one of the priests?”

  “Now, just a minute!” Koesler broke his long silence. “Talk about gratuitous! With the possible exception of myself, the priests who’ve been attacked are elderly. Not only would they not give serious thought to violating the virtue of chastity, they have devoted many years to the Church in a very dedicated fashion and—”

  “That’s all right, Father,” Lauther interrupted, as he looked pointedly at Heinsohn. “That way lies libel, Doctor. And we’re going to stay very clear of any chance of libel. No; you’ve simply got to think of the assailant in terms of some acceptable sexual manifestation.”

  It was obvious Heinsohn was most reluctant to part with any segment of his carefully crafted hypothesis.

  “Well,” he finally said, “I suppose there are exceptions to every rule. I suppose it could be possible that the assailant might be heterosexual.” It was also obvious the admission pained the doctor. “But I must insist that even in a heterosexual relationship, this man would physically express himself violently.”

  “No problem, Doctor,” said Lauther, glancing at Deutsch, who nodded. “The violence will make the graphics more … uh … graphic.”

  “There is one more thing I ought to tell you about our assailant,” said Heinsohn.

  All looked at him attentively.

  “That A.P.A. definition of a sociopath: It says that sociopaths have ‘an ability to rationalize their behavior so that it appears warranted, reasonable, and justified.’”

  “Yes?”

  “The assailant, when the police or I catch up with him, will believe he has been doing God a favor by attacking these priests. It doesn’t matter how crazy that sounds; that’s the way the man will look at it.”

  “Perfect!” Lauther tended to think in headlines. “Joan of Arc gone wrong!”

  7

  “Get that dirt off your forehead!”

  Instinctively, Raphael Doody’s eyes rolled upward, as if in so doing he would be able to see his own brow.

  “I said get that dirt off your forehead!” Father Albert Budreau insisted.

  “But this,” Doody pointed at his forehead, “is blessed ashes. Father Feeny blessed them this morning and rubbed them on our foreheads during the Ash Wednesday Mass.”

  “First of all, Doody, the priest does not rub ashes. He imposes ashes. Secondly, and more importantly, the sacramental is important only at the moment of imposition. After that, it is just dirt.”

  “But Sister said—”

  “Sister said! Sister said! Sister said!” Budreau exploded. “I don’t care what Sister said! This is theology! Now get that dirt off your forehead!”

  Doody dabbed at his forehead with a clean handkerchief checking the cloth after each stroke to ascertain when the ashes would be completely removed.

  Doody’s forehead had been singled out from among a roomful of ashed heads because Doody’s skin always exuded nervous perspiration. Thus, the large cross on Doody’s forehead was more mud than ashes.

  Budreau was a large man, slightly more than six feet, well over 200 pounds, not particularly fat, built something like a safe. Besides his priesthood, the experience that had most shaped his life was his ten-year hitch as an Army chaplain, including time spent in Europe in World War II.

  In addition to “Theology and Morality of Christian Marriage,” the course he was teaching at this moment, Budreau also taught “Historical Issues in Moral Theology” and “Moral Principles of the Christian Life.” As often as possible, he attempted to slip back into pre-Vatican II theology, where he felt more at home.

  “Open your workbooks to page 255.”

  There were those unspecific sounds that are typical of classrooms. Shuffling papers, students shifting in their seats, coughs, whispers, boredom.

  “Now, you can see that I have listed here all the impediments to a marriage, the impeding impediments that make a marriage unlawful but valid, and the diriment impediments that render a marriage invalid. In addition to understanding all of them, I expect you to memorize them.”

  Muffled protesting noises. One student raised his hand. Budreau did not like it. He favored answers, not questions. He could remember a time when there were no questions. Back then, a student, particularly a seminarian, with lots of questions about Church doctrine usually had an abbreviated seminary career. After which he was encouraged to remain in the ranks of the laity and shut up.

  “Maley?” Budreau acknowledged the student reluctantly.

  “Father, aren’t there many Church marriage courts that will accept marriage cases for many more reasons than just the ones you have listed?”

  “Mr. Maley, we are not discussing what individual tribunals do or don’t do. That has no significance here. We are dealing with theology, not the vagaries of some young rebel who somehow becomes head of a marriage court before the oils of ordination are dry on his hands!”

  “But this list is so restrictive. I don’t think any list, no matter how long, can cover all the possible things that can go wrong with a marriage!”

  Budreau sensed the soft underbelly.

  “Ah, Mr. Maley, but we are not talking about what can go ‘wrong’ with a marriage. We are talking about whether there is a marriage, and that is entirely dependent on how the contract is entered into, not on what happens afterward. There are happy marriages and unhappy marriages, good ones and bad ones. We con
sider only whether there is a marriage.”

  “But Father, how can an eighteen-year-old enter into a lifelong contract without knowing what the future holds … without knowing how he or she will develop? I don’t think anybody can do that!”

  “Mr. Maley, that is just what is wrong with your generation: you are incapable of a lifelong commitment. That is why so many marriages are breaking up today! That is why so many priests and nuns are leaving their vocations. What we need today are more young people who, when they put their hand to the plow, will not turn back. People who can take orders. Why, what would happen if the military thought like you?”

  Oh God, the class groaned inwardly, not the Army again!

  “What would happen if the troops in the trenches were permitted to question orders? Do you think they should take a vote when they are ordered to clear out? The military way is the only efficient way to run an organization. And in the military, a commitment is a commitment. Not an agreement to do something until one tires of it or becomes bored with it or until something better comes along. There’s no doubt about it, things would be better today if there were more of that old-fashioned commitment. And, Mr. Maley, it is perfectly possible for people to make a lifelong commitment. Just look at the people who are celebrating silver and even golden anniversaries of their weddings or ordinations or religious vows!”

  Maley thought that along with some lucky people who found the right lifelong vocation on the first try, he also would be looking at some silver and golden failures and some pretty miserable priests, nuns, and married couples. But he also thought it wise to keep this notion to himself.