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It’s going to take more than a Sunday morning service to unpack this, he realizes.
Father was a good man; A great man in a profession that saw a lot of injustice and inhumanity. When he got the news in the hospital that his father wouldn’t be waking up and taking him home, all hope in anything good seemed lost. A funeral is held. He recalls a looming figure in blue regalia approaching him. With a clasp on his shoulder, the man boasts that justice would reign victorious, and the sinner who snuffed out Father’s life would be held accountable.
The weeks after were a blur. The next thing he remembers is flying to Germany with that same looming figure who happened to have an esteemed reputation in the legal world. In this new country, he finds he must learn a new language and way of life amongst people he barely knew. One weekend, he’s taken to another new environment, a cathedral, to renounce his sins and pray for peace. The priest assures the crowd that evildoers will meet their expected end. He finally finds solace in these words.
He soon begins training to be a prosecutor. His mentor shows him the way to perfectly bring the world’s wrongs to light and stomp out these men of darkness. He absorbs every legal treatise like it’s a verse. Every new case he studies is a parable. Every guilty verdict a prayer of last rites.
Later, when he’s back in America, his prosecutorial reputation skyrockets, and everyone knows his tenacity in court. A win record that underscores his spotless crusade against criminals. Every defendant that rails against him he aggressively puts away, while muttering in his heart, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” Evil has lost again. All is right in his world.
Rumors begin to mill about, and he’s dubbed the “Demon Prosecutor”. Nightmares from his childhood continue to plague him, and the pressures of the job pile on. He comforts himself with a sentence: “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake.” A mantra that shuts out every doubt. There’s no room for uncomfortable feelings. He mustn’t let these things shake him.
When that man shows up and turns his whole world about, he feels the aftershocks of that 15-year-old earthquake flip his gospel on its head. The news outlets regard the blue-suited rebel as some people’s savior; a wrecking ball to the rigidity of the 3-day trial system. The rookie attorney saves multiple people from legal damnation, all at the expense of prosecutorial perfection. After years of faithfully uprooting criminality in the only way he knew how, he is brought face-first against the startling idea that he may be the Pharisee of this story. The system he thought he was saving may actually be hurting its people. The pressure gets heavier. The feelings continue to grow. The nightmares get worse.
Two key cases make a coffin and put his faith six feet under. The lofty man who presented the gospel of perfection was revealed to be a fraud, a murderer, and a vengeful spirit. Many years of being a faithful disciple to a twisted cause were used to undo the lessons of love his father tried to instill within him. In the other case, an amalgam of blackmail and cover-ups display the puppet strings holding his career together by a thread. When those strings are cut, so is his idea of justice. His role in shining light to criminal darkness was in question. Everything he thought was correct needed to be corrected. He might’ve been the devil in the details after all.
What left could he do? Where was he to turn? His legal training needed to be thrown out the proverbial window. His mentor and leadership had been cast into the abyss. The verses of solace became a noose at his throat. Confessionals and Sunday masses were not enough to cleanse the baptismal of feelings he was drowning in.
All he has left is to choose death and pray that the truth can be resurrected elsewhere.