Questions

John

“Do you know why we’ve called you in?” The investigator peered over her glasses at the tall, bald black man sitting across the table. He shook his head gently, no. “As you may have heard, we found a body outside of the Songs of Grace fellowship... neighborhood. We later identified the victim as pastor Daniel Rayes of the fellowship. Given the, um, manner of his death, we have reason to believe that any information from you or other congregants will help us solve this case and get justice for the pastor.”

“Dead?” John’s face was stunned. The investigator wrote something in tiny, neat print in her yellow lined notebook.

“Yes. I’m surprised that no one,”

“I just came in from out of town.” John stopped her before she could continue. “I had no idea. I just came home and you guys were everywhere and you separated us into men and women and then...”

“I see.” The investigator scribbled more notes onto the yellow sheet. John looked up, tears in his eyes.

“Was it... murder?”

“I can’t comment on that right now.” The investigator insisted. She continued her speech. “Now, if you would... can you tell me about the last time you saw the pastor?”

“Sure, I... I think it was for our Friday morning service.” John gazed beyond the investigator, remembering. “He had just given his sermon about... about the crusades. We’ve gone through Christian history every Friday for years now. The congregation had a good, lively discussion about Pope Urban The Second, and his rallying of Christians to fight the Muslims.”

“Would you consider the fellowship as engaging in a war on Islam?” The investigator gently interrupted and John laughed in surprise.

“What? No. Of course not. Pastor Danny was just reminding us to fight for what we believe in, and if god wills it, it can be done. It had nothing to do with Islam or Muslims or whatever. Who do you think we are?”

The investigator nodded and added more to her sheet. John shook his head in disgust and continued.

“I left right after the service. As one of the only members with a vehicle and license, I do most of our recruiting. I had an appointment in Phoenix on Saturday.”

“Doing?”

“Recruiting. I set up a table at the New Hope annual festival.”

“And when did you arrive?” The investigator was hurriedly scribbling down his words and he patiently spelled out the convention center name, his arrival time, the name of his hotel, and the names of the conference organizers.

“Bout nine in the evening. I got checked into my hotel and went to bed. I sat my table at New Hope from nine til six. Damn near forgot about lunch, but one of the neighbor tables brought me something over.”

“Did you have any contact with people here while you were away?”

“Me? No. That’d be pretty hard, given that none of the houses here have phones. Someone would’ve had to get to a payphone in town to ring me up, and that’d only be if they knew which hotel I was at. I mean, Mary always knows where I am, but we take my recruiting time as alone time, if you know what I mean. It’s just me and God out on the road.”

“I see.” The investigator scribbled down more notes, then put his pen down. “Well, John, I think that’s all we need from you right now. Thanks for coming in.”

“I hope you got what you needed. The pastor was a great man. Troubled by sin, as we all are, but nonetheless. A great man.” John stood and left the room.

Sarah

“So, how long have you known the pastor?” The investigator peered at the older woman fingering a white knit shawl over her homemade, patchy blue sun dress.

“Why, eight years, I think. Give or take a few months.” Sarah Atkinson was a quiet woman, and every word she spoke seemed to carry the weight of her years on its shoulders.

“So you were one of the...” The investigator shuffled through her notes briefly to confirm before continuing, “Founding members of your church?”

“Yes, I was here from the beginning. Danny found me and Al down near Tucson a few months before we moved up this way.”

“Al?” The investigator asked.

“Al. He was my husband. He... passed away... a few months after we finished building.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” The investigator offered the ritual words of sympathy.

“I... The pastor really helped me through Al’s death. Reminded me that even though Al was lost and in his darkest moments, he knew deep down that God had a plan for him. Pastor reminded me that God has a plan for me, too. It was hard for me to keep livin’ after Al’s death. Al... defined me, for many years. But the family I have here at the fellowship, the love we have for Jesus, it seems to heal all wounds.” She shook her head, as if to brush away the sad thoughts. But she only found more. “The pastor... I don’t know what we plan to do. He really was the leader. The pillar. He did it all. The sermons, and classes, everything. He was our judge and jury, too, always settlin’ disputes and finding new ways for diff’rent people to reach common ground.” Sarah stopped and smiled up at the investigator. “But at least he’s with God and Jesus now.”

“When was the last time you saw the pastor?”

“Midday Sunday, I think. Right after his sermon, I... we chatted a bit. He wanted to know how my son, Jacob, was doing. Jacob was grown before we came to the fellowship, and our remoteness makes it hard to keep in touch. But I got a letter and shared it with the pastor.”

“Does your son approve of your current living situation?” The investigator asked, more interested than anything else.

“Of living with God? Yes, I think so. But he’s chosen to live out in the world and serve God that way. He’s been three years in the service now, and he loves it. No tours yet, but he’s hoping that someday he’ll serve overseas. I fear for that day. I’ve already lost one — now two, men in my life. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost the third.”

“The first is your husband... the second?”

“The pastor. Danny was always there when I needed him. Sometimes, he was there even when I didn’t.” She laughed. “He worried like a mother hen over me. Makin’ sure I was doin’ well on my own in that big house Al and I built with our four hands. He eased up over the years, but I’ll never forget the year after Al died.” Sarah’s eyes crinkled with a mixture of happiness and sorrow.

“Well, Sarah, thank you for your time.” The investigator stood, abruptly ending the interview. “I’ll let you know if we need anything else.”

Abe

“So, do you know why you’re here today?” Abe looked up from meticulously observing a stain on the table and shrugged.

“I heard a few things. I have my guesses.”

“Pastor Daniel Rayes was found dead yesterday morning outside of the Songs of Grace compound. We’re questioning everyone, so don’t feel singled out.” The investigator looked wearily at Abe, who nodded. “So please, tell me what you know about the pastor.”

Abe stared down at his hands for a while. He seemed lost in thought. The investigator gently cleared his throat. Abe looked up and began to reminisce.

"I first met Danny when I was lost in a dark, dark place. I was contemplating suicide and honestly, Danny helped me realize that there was something to live for. That we could live for God. A few months later, he asked me if I wanted to go on an adventure. I had just gotten a job and a place of my own, so you can imagine my surprise when Danny suddenly asked me to give it all away. But I trusted him, and so, I did." Abe sighed.

"We came out here to some empty land just a week later. We built our houses by hand, and the fence, too. It was a small group of us, maybe fifteen or twenty, and for months, we just lived in little trailers, and tents, and did what Jerry -- he passed away two years ago -- told us to do. He promised us that with a little sweat and God's grace, we would found a new community. And we did."

"The pastor's been here through it all with us. Three weekly sermons, communal dinners, and when we grew a bit bigger, weddings and funerals and baptisms left and right. We began recruiting and for a long time, it was the pastor who traveled hundreds of miles in between his weekly sermons to recruit others to the calling of God. But then John came and now he does it, and I just... I don't know what we'll do without the pastor."

"Did the pastor have any arguments recently?" The investigator gently steered the topic towards the murder.

"Not that I know of, no." Abe shook his head and shrugged again. "He was our leader, and a good one at that. Always had some charming quip or piece of advice to help us when we were struggling with our faith, our bodies, or our work."

"Does anyone work outside of the compound regularly?"

"Just John, who recruits. We try our best to stay self sustaining. Pastor Danny has always told us that God doesn't want the heathen cities that suck the country dry."

"Would you describe those views as militant?" The investigator asked and Abe snorted.

"Militant? The pastor didn't have a violent bone in his body. No, he never wanted to hurt no one. He just wanted to make sure that when the end came, we had a way of supporting those left behind."

"The end?"

"The rapture."

"And who would be left behind?" The investigator seemed confused and Abe shrugged.

"You know, anyone who doesn't believe in Jesus."

"Would anyone in your church... be left behind?"

"Well, we can never be certain. The pastor always says -- said -- that we can never be sure of what's in another man's heart, but that ain't no excuse not to love him."

"I see." The investigator shifted in his seat. "When's the last time you saw the pastor?"

“Sunday morning service, I believe.” Abe said. His eyes were glued on his hands. “Sermon was... avoiding temptation and the like. We read a bit of Luke, took communion, the usual. Nothing out of the ordinary that would lead me to think that someone wanted to... kill him.”

“What did you do the rest of the day?”

“Worked at home. Cleaning, out in the garage. That sort of thing.”

“Were you alone?”

“Why, yes, I suppose I was. Housework seems to be my cross to bear.”

“Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Wright. I will let you know if we need anything else.” The investigator stood and extended his hand.

“No problem. God bless.” Abe stood, the metal chair screeching across the tile floor behind him. He took the investigator’s hand and shook it. The investigator led the way out of the interrogation room.

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