Free Incriminating Evidence by Sheldon Siegel Page B

divorced people? Maybe you should get some counseling.”
    “We’re doing the best we can, Ramon.”
    “I can’t just give you a pass on this.”
    “I understand.”
    The penalty is lenient. He tells me I have to do my Hail Marys. Then he says he’ll ask around to see if there are any available single women who might be interested in meeting me.
    “Thanks, Ramon.” He’s certainly a full-service priest.
    I do my penance and we take a seat in the dark wood pews in the third row of the sanctuary. Ramon’s restored church looks better than it did when I was a kid. It was made of painted redwood in an era of Victorian-style construction in northern California. The interior is an example of an architectural style known as Carpenter Gothic, full of geegaws and elaborate fretwork. The ceilings are painted to resemble Gothic stone tracery in a manner called trompe l’oeil. The huge stained-glass window above the altar has been painstakingly restored to its original splendor. The smaller stained-glass windows along the sides of the church were remade from scratch. A new organ sits in the loft behind us.
    I look at the ceiling and remember the words of Isaiah that are inscribed at the highest arch of the church: “I have loved, O Lord, the beauty of thy house and the place where thy glory dwelleth.” My mother still recites these words every time she enters this building.
    “How are you doing?” Ramon asks me.
    “Fair,” I say. “When you’re still sleeping with your ex-wife seven years after your divorce, I think you’d agree that things aren’t perfect.”
    “I suppose that’s true enough. I take it you aren’t seeing anyone else?”
    “Not at the moment. Rosie and I have gone out with other people from time to time. Nothing has worked out for either of us. Somehow, we end up back with each other. It isn’t a great situation.”
    “No, it isn’t.” We sit quietly for a moment and he asks, “Do you ever regret your decision to leave the church?”
    “Sometimes. The church has answers for everything. Out there in the real world, there seem to be none. I thought I had a lot more answers twenty years ago.”
    “So did I.” He looks at the altar and says, “Life is complicated. You were a good priest.”
    “I was a frustrated priest, Ramon. I tried so damned hard. I wanted to make a difference. I thought I was going to help people. By the end, it seemed I couldn’t help anybody.”
    “You were too hard on yourself. People have difficult problems. You should have accepted the fact that you couldn’t solve all of them. You took everything personally.”
    “How can you not take it personally? That’s what being a priest is all about. That’s why I became so frustrated. I couldn’t solve the problems of my parish. I couldn’t deal with the church politics. There was nothing sacred by the time I left.” I look at him and say, “You’re a good priest.”
    “Thanks. I’m a good priest, but I’m a great politician. In fact, I’m more of a politician and a fund-raiser than a priest these days. God’s work takes money. Our parish is poor. Sometimes I feel as if I spend all my time asking for money. It’s just part of the job now.” He reflects for a moment and asks, “Are you happier as a criminal defense attorney?”
    “I don’t know. It’s a tough job, too. I still believe that Iam doing something important—that what I do really matters. That’s why I do it, Ramon. On the other hand, sometimes I get disillusioned. Most of my clients aren’t nice people. They’re guilty of something. The system is imperfect. The process is unpredictable. Nobody is concerned about serving justice. The prosecutors want to get high conviction statistics. The judges want to keep their calendars moving efficiently.”
    “And the defense attorneys?”
    I smile. “We’re just trying to get our clients off—or get them the best deal we can. In that respect, this job is a lot easier than my old