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Reflections On God Biography Come
To Your Senses
An excerpt from the
manuscript “Looking For God?...Come To Your Senses”
By David A. Politte
CSI….Golgotha
The two police detectives were beginning a late afternoon
lunch on that Friday in early spring. Joe had just ordered
the blackened catfish and Tom went with his favorite burger
and fries. Nibbling on an appetizer of onion rings, the
call came in ironically from Internal Affairs…crime
scene….on the hill….respond immediately. Little did Joe and
Tom know that even though everything seemed to be “by the
book”, IA felt the pressure from the public and needed to
satisfy all concerned that indeed nothing regarding this
case was out of order. Joe and Tom would discover
otherwise. Joe had just commented about how smooth the week
had gone and that this day had been a pretty good Friday.
He felt a little jinxed though to get the call so close to
the end of the day. But such was the case when you worked
for the Crime Scene Investigative unit for the large city of
Jerusalem.
They were nine hours into their twelve hour shift on that
last day of the work week. Both were looking forward to a
relaxing weekend and had planned to get their families
together for a b-b-q on Saturday night. The weekend
forecast was for perfect spring weather and Joe was
especially looking forward to the “down time” when he would
have the opportunity to become better acquainted with his
newly assigned partner. Tom was a young detective but very
capable of covering a crime scene with the focus and
accuracy of any veteran to ever serve on the force. I guess
that’s why his recent promotion to the Jerusalem CSI team
wasn’t a surprise to anyone. If you’ve got it, you’ve got
it. And Tom surely “had it”. Joe knew his stuff too. The
best of the best, he got called to duty more times than he
could count. And it seemed like he always got the call to
investigate the most gruesome and perplexing crimes. The
call to cover the murder on the hill would prove to be no
different.
Did I mention murder? Just follow along.
They arrived to a wailing and almost hysterical crowd of
women and children. Yes, even children were witness to what
would originally go down in the books as a “just and legal”
interpretation and rendering of the law, but later would be
classified by many as murder. There’s no mincing of words
here. The scene was horrific with a trail of blood drenched
dusty footprints leading from the city to the spot on the
hill. The “Hill” was located just outside the city limits
but still it was Joe and Tom’s jurisdiction. The “Hill” was
notorious for the type of scene they analyzed. Even the men
lingering about who were used to the public displays of
“justice” from the ruling administration were disturbed.
This time was different. This time it seemed like all the
rules had been stretched and what they had witnessed was not
justice at all. Like so many they were overwhelmed with
fear of speaking out. They just stood around and watched in
disgust, murmuring to each other, some men even in tears
Tom noticed one person sitting alone just off the gory
path. Observing he had blood on him but no apparent injury,
he walked over and questioned him. The loner might be a
suspect.
“Why are you covered with blood?” he asked.
Dazed and staring off into the distance the stranger
responded, “They beat him. They said he was resisting, not
cooperating. I was on my way to town to conduct some
business. I was headed in the other direction. One of the
men in uniform grabbed me and forced me to help. He
threatened me with obstructing justice if I didn’t help. It
all happened so fast. I was minding my own business and now
this. My son! Where is my son? He was with me heading
into the city? Have you seen my son?”
Joe was busy examining the lifeless, beaten and bloody body
of the male victim that had been so full of life probably
just a few hours earlier. He had already made the call to
forensics. They needed to be here. A lot of evidence
needed to be tagged and documented. The victim had
apparently been whipped. He had stab wounds and lacerations
about his torso. His flesh had been ripped open. Joe
recalled seeing something similar on another victim but that
one had been attacked by a pack of wolves. There was no
evidence of wolves at this crime scene. A scraggly ring of
blood soaked thorns lay near the body. “What in the name of
heaven has happened here?” Joe thought to himself. “Was
someone trying to make this guy ‘king’ for a day?” Joe
“knew” what had happened but he still had to quiz himself.
The trail from the city to the
hill couldn’t have been longer than half a mile. It was not
a straight path nor was it paved or used much by the many
residents out for a healthy stroll. No, the ground was
covered with loose stones and larger rocks jutting from the
earth creating a surface that even the most sure footed
walker would stumble on if not paying attention. This path
was reserved for the public parade of those receiving the
death sentence. The trail out of the city sloped slightly
but was steep enough to cause heavy breathing from those
designated to walk it. It didn’t matter where an observer
stood to watch, one always had a perfect view of the path.
Tom stood on the hill looking back toward the city. There
was a stillness that filled the air even as birds chirped
away at their nests in the trees.
Tom continued talking to
bystanders. He spotted a woman clutching a blood-stained
towel and proceeded to quiz her about what had occurred.
“Your name?”
“Ronnie. Well, it’s Veronica but everybody calls me
Ronnie.”
“Are you holding some evidence?”
“I used this towel to wipe his face. He couldn’t see. He
was stumbling along. His vision was blurred. I couldn’t
take it any longer no matter what the guards said. I had to
wipe his face.” She looked at the towel in her stained
hands. Crusty blood was embedded in her cuticles and under
her fingernails. Her polished manicure was no more. She
fell to her knees and sobbed with sorrow.
Tom examined the wet towel. He noticed what appeared to be
the face or image of the man who lay several feet away on
the towel. “That’s weird.” He thought. “Never seen
anything like that before. Not even in criminology class.
Hmm.”
Continuing with his questions one witness replied, “Well,
he didn’t put up much resistance. Kept mumbling “father
forgive them. Craziest thing I ever heard. Don’t know who
he was talking to but no one, especially no “dad” came to
his aid.”
Tom caught a brief glimpse of a woman bent over the victim
tears streaming from her swollen eyes down her cheeks as she
caressed his face and brushed back his matted hair. Another
bystander remarked she was his mother. And he said she saw
it all. Tom took a step toward the heart broken mother but
Joe motioned for him to stay away, to leave her alone for
now.
As Joe continued to gather evidence, he thought again, “God
help whoever did this. Carrying out the law is one thing
but this guy was crucified.” Too bad Joe didn’t know the
true meaning of his thoughts.
Tom was clearly impressed by all he had seen and heard that
afternoon. His folder was full of testimony from a sleuth
of witnesses. Some saw little. Some saw it all.
They had been on site for a few hours and their
investigation was reaching its conclusion. Night was
falling. The once warm and sunny sky was now darkened by
clouds and a chill had permeated the air. The body had been
removed, the crowd was gone. Convinced they had thoroughly
covered every square inch of the scene they too, were ready
to call it a night.
Tired, weary-eyed and still hungry Joe asked Tom if he
wanted to grab a sandwich and talk about the events of the
afternoon. Maybe compare notes before filing their report
with Internal Affairs.
As they left Joe matter-of-factly stated, “Doesn’t seem
real does it? That man shed enough blood for what seems
like the whole world.”
Tom innocently muttered back, “Yeah. This afternoon was
murder, otherwise the week was great. So much for a good
Friday.”
David A. Politte
©2011
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