The Confession Read Free Page A

what happened that night. How could I do that to
her? I have no other choice but to leave. Please, do not try to
find me.”
    I am sorry…John
    I sneak into their house like a thief,
and leave the letter on the kitchen table. I know my father will
get up in the middle of the night for a cup of tea.

    His father found the
letter, read it , and
then went upstairs to wake up his wife.
“Honey, wake up. I found a letter on the kitchen table from John.
He raped someone. He drugged her and raped her.”
    “What did you say? John raped someone.
How could he tell us something like this in a letter?”
    “I don’t know honey. What are you
doing?”
    “I’m getting dressed. We need to go to
the police. We have to file a criminal report.”
    John’s father shook his head. “What do
we tell the police? Our son raped someone, and we don’t know her
name. We also don’t know where he is. It’s pointless reporting this
without proof.”
    She cried. “How could our son do
something like this?”
    “I don’t know honey, but if he ever
shows his face in this house, I will kill him.”
    “We still have to file a report. He
committed a crime, and if the girl should someday remember, we need
proof that we reported what he did to her.”
    The next morning, John’s father made a
few copies of the letter, then drove over to District 24 station
and asked to speak to someone from the sex crime unit. Detective
Matthew Denton was the officer on duty that day.
    “Sir, the desk officer informed me that
you want to report a rape. Who is the victim?”
    “I don’t know the victim.
That’s the problem. My son left this letter for me before he left
town. I have no idea where he is, but I want to have this on
the record should he resurface.” He handed the letter to the
detective.
    The detective read the
letter and made several notes. “I am sure you are aware we have no
official proof of a crime. You son was very smart in how he
divulged this information. You do know that without a name, we
cannot issue an arrest warrant. Was you son in a relationship
at the time this letter was written?”
    “No. My son has been troubled this past
year, and has pretty much kept to himself.”
    “The best I can do at this
point in time is a search for recent assault crimes. Do you
have a picture of your son?”
    He opened his wallet and
retrieved a photo from
a recent family vacation. “This photo is about two years old, but he hasn’t changed much since then,
except that his hair is longer.”
    “I’ll start a file. I want you to call
me should your son contact you.”
    ***John***
    I step off the bus outside
of St. Matthew’s Seminary and sit on the sidewalk. I have
questioned my decision a hundred times since I left home and thought about walking away and disappearing from
everyone’s life. I have no idea how long I sat on the sidewalk when a shadow cast itself over my body. When I look up, a
priest stood before me .
    “Young man, my name is Father Joseph
Randall. Are you not well my son? Are you in need of
assistance?”
    I stood to face Father
Randall. “No Father, I am not well, and I am in need of spiritual
healing. I am an alcoholic and a drug addict. My life is a mess,
and I have made the decision to walk away from that life and
dedicate myself to Our Lord. Please, Father, help
me.”
    My legs feel like rubber and I sink to
the sidewalk. For the first time in my life, I cried. Father
Randall sat next to me and held my hand while I cried like a
baby.
    “Whatever is troubling you, we can help
you. Let me help you.”
    His honest and sincere offer touched me deeply. “I hurt someone that I love, Father.
I committed a crime. I used a drug and took advantage of the only
person I have ever loved. She left me for someone else, and
jealousy made me a bitter and vile person. The drugs are killing
me, Father. I don’t like who I have become. Please help me heal my
soul. I want to dedicate my life to Our Lord. I want to atone for
my sin and