Cat Killer

Ruth

“He would talk to us in teen group about how sometimes, when he was a kid, he used to kill cats.” Ruth’s response to the investigator’s question was direct.

“What?” The investigator’s eyes widened, like a doe caught in the headlights of an oncoming death.

“Yeah.” Ruth affirmed her earlier statement. “He said that he used to kill cats. Kittens. He’d put them in a bag and throw them off a bridge. And he told us that he used to... laugh... when he did it.”

“Why did he tell you that he killed kittens?” The investigator’s concern scrawled across her face.

“He told us that...” She spoke carefully, as if digging the words from a long lost memory, “That sometimes it takes a long time before God can find us. Before we open our hearts enough to listen. He told us that no matter what we did before, once we accepted Jesus, all that stuff was washed away.”

“Did he ever get caught? Killing cats?”

“I don’t think so. At least, he never mentioned it. He was just always telling us that at our age, it was Jesus that had to find his way into our hearts. That we were all awful, awful people. And we all had a lot of sin to pay for, but it didn’t matter, because when we were ready... Jesus was willing.”

“Was this... was this how your youth groups normally went?”

“I mean, not all the time. Most of the time we just talked about the bible. But once a month, or whenever someone new came into the fellowship, or someone new joined the teen group, we would talk about how we found Jesus. And Pastor Danny always told us about how one day, he had thrown a squirming bag of kittens into the river when he heard a voice, and it said, ‘NO MORE!’” Ruth shouted that part, just as she remembered the pastor shouting it.

“And what did he do?”

“He looked around for the voice but he said, deep within, he knew it was god speaking to him. And he decided to listen, and he jumped off his bridge and tried to find the kittens.”

“Did he?”

“What?”

“Find the kittens?”

Ruth was taken aback by the question, and shrugged. “I don’t think he ever said. He usually started telling us about the power of the lord and never really... never mentioned the cats again.”

“Do you think he ever did anything like that at the fellowship?” The investigator guided the teenager away from the dead kittens and back towards the case.

“What? Kill kittens? No, I don’t think so.”

“Do you think that he might’ve been abusive to people, instead of animals, at the fellowship?”

“What do you know?” Ruth asked suspiciously, and the investigator held up her hands.

“Nothing that I can share with you. We’re just investigating all possible leads, and that includes the possibility that maybe someone wanted to get revenge on the pastor for things that happened in the past.”

“Uh huh.” Ruth’s openness began to falter. “Well, he never abused me, that’s for sure.”

“What’s that mean?” The investigator asked. “You said ‘that’s for sure’ like it was impossible.”

“I don’t know.” She said. “He just never abused me. That’s all.”

“Did you ever spend any time alone with him?” The investigator asked. “Did he ever make you feel uncomfortable?”

“No, we were never alone.” That part, she was sure of. “I don’t know about uncomfortable though. Sometimes, but he was just... he was just that kind of person. He could get really intense.”

“Did he ever touch you? Rub against you? Anything?” The investigator continued her questions. Ruth squirmed uncomfortably, feeling much like a kitten trapped in a bag, sinking down into a river of sin and betrayal.

“No. Well.” She glanced behind her, as if making sure that no one else could hear. “His hugs got real long sometimes. You could... you could feel him staring at you during the sermons, or during prayers. Or at least, I always felt like he was staring at me. I never really noticed it before I started going to teen group. But then it was like... I don’t know. He noticed me.”

“Did any of the other girls feel like they were watched?”

Ruth shrugged in response. “I don’t know. We never talked about it. But we all... we all waited for each other at night, you know? We always left in a group. No one ever spent time alone with him. At least, not when I was there.”

“Were you gone from teen group frequently? Or recently?”

“Occasionally. Dad would go out to Phoenix and I would get to go with him every once in a while. So stuff could’ve happened then. I don’t know.”

“What about the boys? Were the boys ever alone with the pastor?”

“Yeah, of course.” Ruth said, then realization crossed her face. “Wait, you don’t — ew. Just ew. The pastor would never.” She shuddered.

“Did anyone ever stop going to teen group? Or suddenly seem different or weird towards the pastor?” The investigator was careful not to identify “anyone” as male.

Ruth took a long time to think it over. “Everyone was a little weirded out by the pastor after a while. Kyle — he just started hating the man one day. So did Alex. Jennifer’s mom started tutoring her during teen group hours just a few months after she joined. There were a few others, too... the twins, Tyler and Anne; Jackie. Carlos. Carlos’ whole family left only a few months after they joined. Said they were going to visit family in Tucson, but they packed up all their stuff to do it. We knew they weren’t coming back.” Ruth shrugged. “People come and go around here. Some find the Lord, others find their love of this.” Ruth waved her hand around the interrogation room, as if it was the peak of human greatness.

“Well, Ruth, unless you have any other insights, I think we’re done here. The investigator rose and offered her hand. “You’re a very nice young lady and I wish you the best of luck.”

Kyle

Sullen and lanky, Kyle Brightwater stared at the primly pressed pinstripes darting across the woman's uniform. Her glasses were small and circular, and her face seemed perpetually turned downwards into a frown.

"Sorry, why do you need to see me again?" Kyle asked her, not quite complaining.

"We're interviewing most people again." She offered as a consolation. "We wanted to ask some different questions."

"If you're asking us all over again... does that mean that you think that one of us did it?" Kyle asked and the investigator smiled, a thin red line across her otherwise stale and unmoving face.

"We think that your community is... unique." She said neutrally and he laughed bitterly.

"I know, right? We're an odd bunch."

"Do you feel connected to your community? Your... fellowship?" She asked, and the interview began for real.

“For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother.” Kyle answered. “So says Matthew, anyway.”

“Bible quote?” She asked. He could tell that she was tired of hearing bible quotes and he smiled.

“Sorry. Bad habit. Yes, we are all very close. It comes from not having much contact with others.” Kyle worded it as politely as he could, suffocating his mind’s urge to use the word “infidels” instead of “others.” He remembered fondly a time when he and his older brother, Michael, had brandished play swords and screamed it at each other in an angry, oddly Mexican accent.

“Were there any people who weren’t as... connected?” She asked, and he shrugged.

“We’re all a little different, in how we come to Christ, right?” He looked down at his hands. “But we’re all there. Together. As one.”

“So when did you and your family join the congregation here?” The investigator abruptly changed her angle of inquiry.

“We helped build the town. It was crazy, I was only eleven, maybe twelve at the time, but I was lifting boards and nailing things and helping with the plumbing just like everyone else. Mom decided to come and ‘give Jesus a try’ as she used to say, and we just never left. It was always, ‘a few weeks more’ and ‘maybe next month’ but slowly mom realized that this was where she belonged.”

“Do you feel like you belong here?” She asked him and he looked down at his hands.

“It’s... I mean, yes. My family is here, and I can’t abandon them, right?”

“Do you feel like abandoning them sometimes?” The investigator was clearly interested, and Kyle was too absorbed in his sudden discomfort to notice that he was giving away valuable information.

“No. I mean. Well. Once or twice. After the town was finished.”

“Was there any reason that you felt like you wanted to leave?” The investigator was pushing now, gently, but her voice was begging for answers and Kyle seemed on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

“I... Can I go now?” Kyle looked up. His eyes were watering. “I just, I’ve never...”

“You can tell me, Kyle. This is all confidential. You’re not being accused of anything. We’re just trying to figure out what happened.”

Kyle rubbed at his eyes as if they were full of sand. He pushed his chair back to stand and leave the room, but the investigator grabbed his wrist gently.

“Kyle, did something happen after you finished constructing the town?” She yanked gently on his arm and he returned to his seat without much resistance. He stared at her fingers, the bright red of polish glinting under the yellowed fluorescent glow. He stared a long while before speaking.

“The pastor would act... strange sometimes.” He admitted. A flush crept over his face. “At first his handshakes and pats on the back turned to hugs and then the hugs just got... long.”

The investigator released his wrist to quietly grab her pen and begin recording his words.

“Then once, I noticed... I don’t know. It could’ve been nothing. But it was like he... he was pressing his body into mine and I felt...”

“Did he have an erection?” The investigator gently prodded and Kyle turned red.

“I’m not a homosexual, if that’s what you mean!” His voice was more scared than angry, though, and he was struggling to control the waterfall threatening to stream down his face.

“That’s not what I mean at all, Kyle.” She reached out and patted his hand. “Go on.”

“So, yeah... I mean, I wasn’t sure at first, but then it kept happening and it seemed like anytime I was alone, he would find me and just do weird things.”

“Like what?” She asked him and his words came faster.

“He would wedge himself into a doorway with me, or somehow... trip and fall and grab onto me for support.” His last words were quiet. Defeated.

“Did he grab your penis?” She asked him gently and he nodded, too shaken for words.

“And then one day, at the pond, suddenly, it was just me and him and he grabbed me for real. Not any accidental falls or tight squeezes or anything. He grabbed me and he held on and he asked me if I loved God. And I told him that if he didn’t get his hand off of me right that instant, I was going to tell my mother.”

“What did he do?” She asked him.

“He grabbed me by the hair and pushed me into the ground and told me that he was going to drive my demons out, and I just...” He trailed off, caught in a whirlwind of fragmented memory. “I don’t know. I scrambled and got my feet and he was on the ground and I kicked him. I kicked him so hard, right in the balls, and then right in the face. And then I ran away.” The investigator could feel his hand shaking under hers. It was clenching and unclenching at the memories, and there was nothing that she could do to soothe him.

“What happened next?” She asked when he once again gained control of his body.

“I don’t know. Nothing.” He said, and took his hand from hers.

“Did you tell anyone? Did he?” She asked and he laughed bitterly.

“I was too chicken. Afraid that everyone would believe him over me. Afraid that he would say that I attacked him.”

“Did he have any... marks? From what you did?”

“He had the biggest black eye.” Kyle laughed again, harshly. “He told everyone he fell. And his sermon that weekend was on chastity and turning away from temptation. I don’t know if he was trying to clean himself up or if he was trying to threaten me or what. I have no clue. But that was the last time that he and I were ever alone, and that’s all I know. I’m not saying I killed him, but I’m sure glad that he’s dead and gone.”

Sarah

“Hi, Sarah, thank you for coming back in to speak with us.” The investigator was an older man, his greying hair ringed around a bald spot shining bright under the indoor lights. His belly fat pressed against the table and Sarah tore her eyes away.

“You’re welcome.” She said. “How can I help you?”

“I’ll actually get right to the point, ma’am.” He smiled wanly. “After interviewing the entire town, we’ve noticed a possible pattern of... abuse... by the pastor.”

“Abuse?” Sarah looked shocked. She fidgeted.

“There have been some reports of inappropriate behavior. Things that, when taken together, no longer seem accidental.” He straightened the stack of papers in front of him. “Since your last interview indicates that you were... alone... with the pastor for an extended period of time, we wanted to ask you a few more questions about your life here at Songs of Grace fellowship.” He waited for a response, but she offered none, so he continued.

“During your times alone with the pastor, did he ever say anything or do anything strange or uncomfortable?”

“I...” She trailed off and the man smiled gently at her.

“Would you like to talk to someone else? I understand that it can be hard for victims to talk to men.”

“No, I’m not...” Sarah seemed lost for words. “I don’t know what to say.” She settled on her response. “He was certainly never violent. Not towards me.”

“No hitting or shoving? Choking?” He asked her and she looked horrified.

“The pastor hit and choked people?” She was shrill.

“Ma’am, I can’t tell you what he did and didn’t do to other people.” The investigator smiled apologetically.

“No, he never hit or ch-ch-choked me.” She stuttered, and the investigator made two small scribbles in his notebook.

“And did he touch your breasts or genitals?”

She shifted uncomfortably and remained silent. The investigator could see her shaking in her chair.

“Ma’am, your responses will be safe with us.” He assured her. “We’re trying to figure out who this man was and how he died. The abuse that you or anyone else suffered will not be divulged unless absolutely necessary. Did he ever touch you sexually?”

“I... Y-y-y-yes, but I din’t mind.” She gulped for air.

“Did you feel uncomfortable?” The investigator never missed a beat. Sarah nodded.

“At first, b-b-but then...”

“Did he tell you that it was God’s will or in any way indicate that the only way to stay in good standing with your community was to sleep with him?”

“I... N-no, n-n-not exactly.” She frowned, her world view shifting slightly.

“Can you tell me about the first time it happened?” His tone was softer, more exploratory. He knew that he had pushed a little too hard, too fast, for this gentle widow.

“He c-came over for dinner one night, a ... few m-months after my husband had passed.” She started. “He always came over... at least once a week, m-m-made sure that I was never needing nothin’. But he kept staying later and later each time — each week — and one night, it was just... t-t-too long.”

“Did you ask him to leave?” He scribbled idly on his notepad, trying not to seem too pushy.

“I h-hinted a few times that I wanted to sleep. I g-g-got him to the door but he just t-t-turned to me and started saying h-he and Al were practically brothers. He just grabbed me and kissed me and pushed me b-back inside and...” She gasped and shuddered. “I d... d-d-din’t say no. I never said no.” Tears were filling her eyes, her fingers white against each other. She took a shaky breath.

“Didn’t say no to what?” He asked gently. “I need it for the report. You only have to say it once.”

“Din’t say no to s-s-sex.” It was barely a whisper, but he heard it and wrote it down.

“How often did he force himself on you, Sarah?” His voice was filled with sorrow and sympathy.

“Bout once a week or so. In the beginning, more, but I started avoiding him as best I could. Calling my son or finding other friends... stuff like that.”

“Did you ever tell anyone about what happened to you?”

Fear flashed across her face. “No... I... th-th-they wouldn’t believe me. Not here. The pastor was like G-god around here.”

“You don’t really think that you’re the only one that suffered at his hands, do you, Sarah?” The man asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. G-g-god has a reason for everything. Ev-everything that happens. Even my... even the pastor. Even what he d-d-did to me.”

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