Free Incriminating Evidence by Sheldon Siegel Page A

Peter’s will always be much like the Mission itself: ordinary-looking on the outside but special within.
    “How long has it been since your last confession, Mike?” a familiar voice responds. Nowadays, there aren’t too many churches where you can recite your confession to a priest who knows you by name. For the last twenty years or so, St. Peter’s has been the sanctuary of Father Ramon Aguirre, a strong-willed priest who grew up a few blocks from here andwas a classmate of mine at the seminary. When we were in school, Ramon once told me that he didn’t just want to become a priest; he wanted to become the priest at St. Peter’s. He has brought a modern perspective and unlimited energy to a once-demoralized parish. He’s known as the “rock-and-roll reverend” because he allows rock bands to play at youth functions in the social hall on Saturday nights. From time to time, he’s been known to pick up a guitar and take the microphone. He’s the first to admit that he must bring political as well as spiritual capital to hold the parish together. He is worthy of the legacy of the legendary Reverend Peter Yorke, a pastor who plied his trade in this very building over a century ago. Yorke fought for labor unions, edited his own newspaper and supported Irish revolutionaries. He once sat in this very confessional booth.
    “It’s been a long time, Ramon,” I reply. “At least a year or so.”
    “You should try to set a better example for Grace.”
    “I know.” We go to church when we can. I find it difficult to make Grace go into a little chamber by herself to confess some alleged sins that don’t seem particularly sinful to me. I worry about the effect of this. I want her to like herself. “It’s the old story,” I say. “It’s hard to get the kids interested. They’d rather be home playing with their computers.”
    “Tell me about it. Last week I had a nine-year-old ask me if she could just log on to God’s Web site and submit her confession by e-mail.”
    “What did you tell her?”
    “God isn’t online yet.”
    I can’t resist. “And what did she say?”
    “If God is so almighty, how come God doesn’t have a Web site?”
    It’s a fair point. “What was your answer?”
    “Same thing we always say. Sometimes there are no easyanswers and you have to take it on faith.” He chuckles and adds, “I told her she could e-mail her sins to me in a pinch and I would see what I could do.”
    There are some things they just don’t teach you at the seminary.
    “So,” he says, “I understand that you’re representing Mr. Gates.”
    “It’s true.”
    “What’s that like?”
    “Challenging.”
    He grins and asks, “Did he do it?”
    I shake my head and say, “I don’t think so.”
    “It’s a sin to lie to a priest.”
    “Very funny. It’s also a sin if I violate the attorney-client privilege. Actually, I was hoping you might be able to give me some information about the boy who died at the Fairmont. I understand he was from the neighborhood.”
    His interest is piqued. “He was, but I think we have some business to attend to first.”
    “Business?”
    “Yes. This is a confessional and I’m a priest. You haven’t been here for a year. You’re going to have to confess to something while you’re here.”
    Every time I go to confession, it seems I have to tell my deepest, darkest secrets to a priest who thinks he’s David Letterman. “Can I e-mail you?”
    “No.”
    “Fine. Have it your way. I have slept with a woman who is not my wife.”
    His head drops. “Oh, Mike.”
    “Wait,” I say. “There are mitigating circumstances.”
    “There are no mitigating circumstances when it comes to this.”
    “Hear me out.”
    “I’m listening.”
    “I’m sleeping with a woman who used to be my wife.”
    He sighs. “You’re still at it with Rosie?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Jesus, Mike, you’ve been divorced for what, five years?”
    “Seven.”
    “When are you going to start acting like