CHAPTER 21
Brother Francis awoke with a start. The ringing of the phone was confused in his head for the sound of the bell calling the community to the Office of Vigils at the monastery. When he realized that he was in Hawaii he picked up the phone wondering what bad news might come through the wire to him.
It was the local police. “Doctor O’Neil, this is Captain Kamiana. We see from the newspaper that you are a clinical psychologist visiting from the mainland.”
That newspaper article again. It’s a blessing and a curse. “That’s correct Captain; can you tell me why you are calling?”
“Certainly. Do you do any forensic psychology work Doctor?”
Typical sleuth. Never answer a question directly but turn it back on the other person and try to ferret out more information. “I do from time to time. Once in a while I wind up in court testifying as to the mental status of someone. There are also times when I am deposed—someone comes to my office and videos my testimony. I swear to the statement and then don’t have to sit in a court waiting my turn, a wait which can last for days sometimes.”
“Yes Doctor. We have a situation here. A man known professionally as ‘David the Illusionist’ is in our jail. He will be released this morning unless we can find an honest way to charge him with the attempted murder of Madam Wu. I believe that you are very familiar with the case.”
“That’s right Captain. I spent most of the evening with Effie and Tian Wu. I can appreciate that she might be in some danger if David was to be set free, but I don’t understand how I can help.”
“We would like you to interview him for us. Perhaps your background as a monk and clinical psychologist will soften him up to the point of confessing. I believe professional help would be more beneficial to him than prison but that’s up to the courts. There is a police cruiser en route to your hotel as we speak and the officer will drive you to the station.”
This man is used to getting his own way. I suppose you have to be manipulative in his profession. My two brothers were police officers so in their honor I’ll say yes to his request.
“I really don’t think that I can be of much help Captain, but I’ll meet the officer in the lobby in about twenty-five minutes.” Brother Francis’ keen sense of time knew that it would take about that long to get himself together before doing his work of mercy, visiting the prisoner.
In place of celebrating the Office of Vigils the monk was whisked off to the local police station, less than fifteen minutes from the hotel.
Captain Kamiana shook his hand as the men met. The Captain was nut brown, with a thick head of black hair edged with a hint of sliver. He had a slight Asian cast to his brown eyes. His smile was brilliant but it conveyed a message: “I’m nice but I’m in charge. If I’m not in charge I’m not nice.”
David was seated in an interrogation room behind a two-way mirror. A microphone in the room allowed the observers in an adjacent room to listen as well as view whatever took place.
Brother Francis entered the interrogation room. “Hello David, I’m Brother Francis even though I don’t look much like a monk in this orange tee shirt and sandalwood colored qigong pants. These were the handiest things to put on when I was called to come here to visit you.”
“You were at my performance last evening. You sat in the front row right next to Tian Wu. What do you want with me?”
“I would like to see if you need any help and then find a way to get that for you. If you’ve broken any laws I’d rather see you get some treatment rather than simply go to prison.”
David became agitated. “What laws would I have broken?”
“Madam Wu believes that you tried to kill her. Is that so?”
“Not at all. Why would I do that?”
“I’m not sure David, but sometimes under stress we do all sorts of things. Even though we regret them later we still need to deal with the consequences of our behavior. Our culture today is very much focused on blaming others for our problems. Spill hot coffee on yourself at a fast food restaurant and sue the restaurant, that sort of thing.”
“Madam Wu didn’t spill any coffee on me.”
“Probably not, but perhaps you were jealous of her for some reason.”
Zing. Brother Francis could feel that he had struck a nerve.
Anger. Wariness. “Jealous of what?”
This is just a little hypothesis. You’ve spent your life creating illusions, and you are excellent at it.”
“Thank you for that.”
“Madam Wu believes that she has a gift from the Holy Spirit to read the hearts, and sometimes the minds, of others. She does not present this as an illusion, but as a reality.”
Intense anger radiated from the Illusionist. Brother Francis could smell the stress hormones in the sweat of the lanky tired man in front of him in the small room. The florescent lights above them hummed as they emitted harsh cold light.
“Perhaps your jealousy got the best of you and you wanted to get rid of Madam Wu so that you could be number one, so to speak. You did mention in your show last evening that you were now transitioning from illusion to the use of spiritual gifts.”
David raised his six foot five inch frame off of the turquoise plastic chair he was sitting on, grabbed the back of it and raised it into the air as if to clobber the monk with it. The two officers in the viewing room barged into the interrogation room.
Brother Francis motioned to them to stand back by the door through which they had just entered. David stood, chair upraised, like a statue.
“So before God, David, you are saying that you did not attempt to murder Madam Wu.”
David looked confused. He lowered the chair ever so slowly. “No, I can’t say that. My parents taught me never to use the name of God in vain in any way. I could never swear before God that I didn’t attempt to murder Madam Wu.”
He whispered: “The fact is that I was jealous and tried to kill her.”
“Thank you David. Now we can help you.”
A confession was typed up. All the starch had gone out of David by that time so he silently signed it and it was witnessed.
“What made you ask him to swear before God, Doctor O’Neil?” asked the Captain while personally driving Brother Francis back to the hotel. “That’s what triggered the confession and closed the case.”
“Do you remember several incidents of people finding hypodermic syringes in Coke cans while drinking their soda? This was about twelve years ago on the mainland--Pennsylvania and New Jersey.”
“Sounds vaguely familiar.”
“Well, I knew the forensic psychologist called in on the case. The first incident triggered several other such incidents. The young man who first claimed he found a syringe in the can had been interrogated many times and always denied that he put the syringe in the Coke can himself.
“When the Doctor of Psychology interviewed him, he was getting the same response. On the way out the door and without much thought, he asked the man if he would swear before God that he had not created the situation himself.
“The perpetrator responded much like David. He said that he was raised never to swear by God in vain. He confessed and the copy cat crimes stopped too. I guess the syringe in the Coke can was a way to get money or attention. In any case, I just tried the same thing. Not all of my education comes from books; a lot of it is from clinical work over the years. Sometimes it’s just plain luck.”