HI!...I'm a maniac!

A white haired preacher, his face hidden by the wide brimmed black hat he wore for protection from the sun, stood atop a soapbox and quoted in Latin from a large leather bound book. Children had set up lemonade stands that had become so successful that the parents now operated them. The whole town had turned out, not just to gawk at the biggest case in the county’s history but also to debate the innocence of the accused, James Mitford.

At ten o’clock sharp, with the summer sun raining down on the building’s ancient roof, the defendant was lead into the courthouse of the final day of his trial, and quite possibly his life.

People overflowed the courtroom. They jammed into the balcony, forcing the spiders to other hunting grounds. Those who arrived too late to find standing room in the back of the building were forced to listen to the proceedings through the open windows.

There had been no need for character witness. Everyone in the county knew James Mitford as the saintly pastor who seemingly devoted his life to God’s work. Everyone in town had a story to tell about how he had helped them through some hardship; both economical and spiritual trials and salvations were recounted. Now the saint stood before the community accused of the ultimate sin, the rape and murder of children. Today for the first time, from the witness stand, Mitford would have a chance to tell his side of the story.

Theirs had been a sleepy town. The kind of place where little league scores held more meaning than the latest stock market tallies, a place where the name of your neighbor’s horse held more prominence in your mind than that of the governor. Their tight knit, comfortable word had been turned upside down, its innocence shattered by the disappearance of six-year old Cindy Wilson, the butcher’s daughter. By the time her frail, violated, decomposing body was discovered two other children were also missing.

Panic filled the town. People had keys made for their front doors and slept with their windows latched shut trapping in the warm stale air, opting for peace of mind rather than comfort during the hot August nights. Children were no longer allowed to walk home from school alone. The community pulled itself together while life long friendships and trust were torn apart.

Then one by one the pieces fell into place. A footprint, a piece of torn clothing, finally the bloodstained cross found under the podium. Together with the lack of a solid alibi, and an eyewitness who swore she saw the preacher out, "where he shouldn’t of ought to be," these clues led to the arrest of James Mitford, the man parents had once trusted to teach their children right from wrong. Shock and fear quickly turned to anger.

Those not already standing rose to their feet as the bailiff called the court to order. A judge was sent down from the state capitol as a compromise against moving the trial to another location. That the state would send such a distinguished member of it’s Supreme Court to preside over the case provoked quite a reaction, but the real excitement came when with the announcement that the State District Attorney would personally prosecute the case.

A local tax attorney, Edward Burrows had been appointed to defend Mitford, and to the surprise of everyone, including Mr. Burrows himself, he had been up to the challenge. Burrows countered every piece of evidence entered; found an answer for every question asked, and proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that the State’s case was entirely circumstantial. By not testifying, Mitford could almost be assured of an aquittal. Burrows had successfully proven the State’s case to be entirely circumstantial, but...

Mitford would have to take the stand. Not doing so would be seen as an admission of guilt by the community he was sworn to serve. Knowing that sermons from a sinner would fall on deaf ears forced Mitford to the stand. Inability to continue the work he was born into would be, for him, a fate far worse than hanging.

"Councilor call your next witness," the judge said, observing the formality, everyone knew who was scheduled to take the stand.

"I call the Reverend James Mitford to the stand." The defendant cast his eyes slowly around the courtroom, pausing for a moment to meet the stares that met his, before wearily rising to face his accusers.

"Your honor," a voice from the rear of the courtroom began. There a rustle sifted through the crowd as a member of the audience fought his way into the courtroom. Reluctantly, people who had spent the morning vying for position parted to allow the speaker to move to the front of the room. A bent old man, his clothing announcing the divinity of his profession, appeared at the railing that separated the spectators from the performers. The old man removed a large brimmed black hat to reveal thinning silver hair. "If it please the court I have a special request to make," his voice was as clear as a church bell and twice as melodic.

"State your name for the record please."

"The Reverend Henry DeBroc, your honor. I understand that this must by a very trying time for this community, what with their spiritual leader on trial for such heinous crimes and all. So I thought it best for the spiritual health of the community to have another representative of the almighty to turn to for consolation and guidance so I have come to offer my services to those in need."

"I thank you for your interest in this community and for your presence here today, but unless you have a specific matter pertaining to this case I must insist that you handle your introductions to these good people at a later time."

"Oh but, your honor, I do have business that pertains to this case. I just thought it important to introduce myself to this court and to have my name and purpose entered into the record for you see, your honor, due to the defendant’s position as a member of the clergy the outcome of this trial is especially important to all of us. Those of us who serve directly in particular, for you see, if a member of the church stands accused then his brethren of the cloth stand accused as well. It is not just the innocence or guilt of this one man that is at stake, it is the trust of his entire congregation. It was therefore imperative that I come immediately and offer my services. You see, I..."

"Your point Reverend."

"Of course, forgive me your honor... I have on my person a most sacred of books. A Bible created at the very birthplace of Christianity’s introduction into England, the Cathedral at Canterbury. I thought the use of such a monument’s relic would serve to remind the defendant of the significance of the oath he is about to take, for an oath taken on this parchment will be binding not just on this earth but in the afterworld as well. Perhaps it will serve to remind the kind people of this community that we have not forsaken them and convince the accused that it is better to accept the punishments of the community he has betrayed, assuming he is guilty of course.., than to purge himself before the almighty."

"If there are no objections I see no reason not to allow it. Bailiff, please administer the oath to Mr. Mitford using the book furnished by the Reverend DeBroc. But first you better let me take a look at it." DeBroc merely shook off the Judges inquisitive gaze and handed a faded leather bound book to the bailiff. The bailiff winced noticeably as DeBroc’s hand brushed against his. The crowd strained to get a better glimpse of the book as it was hurriedly passed from the sweating bailiff to his honor.

"Well this certainly appears to be a Bible," the judge after a rapid inspection declared. "And in the original Latin," he added hastily not wanting his ignorance of the language of the law to be known. The book was handed back to the bailiff who reluctantly accepted it. "Reverend, I thank you for your addition to these proceedings. Now if you will find a seat we can continue." DeBroc smiled at the judge’s words and pushed his way onto the already over crowed first row bench, displacing a robust elderly woman in a faded sundress in the process.

The bailiff gingerly accepted the impressive book from the bench and proceeded to the witness stand holding the aged text away from his body. "Please raise your right hand and place your other hand on the text and repeat after me." Mitford paused and stared intently at the book’s cover. "Sir, I am sure that the good Reverend will allow you to examine the book to your heart’s content after these proceedings. Perhaps even engage in a little philosophical debate, but if you don’t mind I would like to get on with this."

Mitford placed his hand on the book as instructed. The shiver that ran through his body as he placed his flesh on the cover went unnoticed by all but one in the courtroom.

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you God." At first the pause seemed natural, especially to the people knew Mitford. The ashen face and trembling lips of the accused quickly commanded the attention of the courtroom. "Sir?"

"I..." Mitford’s eyes slowly lowered to his hand and then to the book beneath it. "I..." a single red teardrop appeared in the corner of Mitford’s left eyes and rolled down his cheek rolling off his chin and landing on the book as he finished, "do."

"You may be seated"

"Where were you around eight p.m. on the night of August the third?" Burrows began soothingly.

"I was at home preparing Sunday’s..." Mitford’s eyes bulged as the air rushed out of his body. "I was at home aaaal..." this time the pain was much more severe, causing the defendants’ body to spasm.

"Now do you believe in God. You should have taken that oath in his name more seriously," DeBroc called out rising from his seat.

"I have always believed in the Heavenly Father and our lor..." fire burned in the pit of his stomach as the courtroom began to swim out of focus.

"Your honor, my client’s spiritual beliefs are not on trial here. Further more I must respectfully request that you remind the good reverend that he is not the one trying this case."

"No need to reprimand me, your honor. Mr. Burrows is of course correct. It’s just that as a member of the clergy I have a certain enthusiasm when it comes to the almighty"

"Understood. Now please take your seat"

"Thank you, your honor." With a smile and a small wave DeBroc squeezed himself back onto the already overcrowded bench. There was an awkward pause while everyone waited to see if it was safe to continue.

"Now then Mr. Mitford, do you recall your whereabouts on the evening of August the third."

"Yes sir, I was at home all..." Pain. Mitford could feel each and every eye in the room as they bore into him in an attempt to get a peek at his soul. "I..." the fire spread to his chest causing Mitford to grab his breast in alarm. "My god." He stammered

"Sinner, you stand not just before your peers, but before your maker as well" DeBroc’s voice rose with him and began to take on the rhythm of the pulpit "You may be able to lie to them," DeBroc turned arms spread to the audience, "but no man can stand falsely in front of the almighty!"

"Revered, please!" the judge roared, "I will not have my courtroom turned into an evangelical convention. Now please take your seat."

"God’s punishing him for lying," DeBroc cried out, "we can’t just sit idly by while this man defiles the beliefs upon which this great country of our was founded."

"You can and you will, or I will find you in contempt," the judge said trying to regain control of the situation as the DA pondered where he had lost it. The DA was very aware that District Attorneys who found themselves upstaged at proceedings such as this rarely took up residence in the Governor’s mansion.

‘Now Mr. Mitford, I believe you were going to inform us of your whereabouts on the evening of August the 3^rd.

"I was home writing Sunday’s sermon." The heat was unbearable. Mitford wiped the blood that was now flowing freely from his nose off of his chin. There was no oxygen. "I can’t go on."

"Then you admit you’re guilty" the DA chirped.

"No. I’m innocent. With God as my witness I swear I’m innnnungh," Mitford doubled over staggered forward as far as the little pine box would allow. "What’s happening to me?"

"He’s confessing."

"Nooo." The room blurred as Mitford struggled to his feet.

"Confess your sins. " – DeBroc

"Yes, Please confess." – DA

"Your honor my client is under enormous strain. He is obviously not well. If we could take a short recess." – Burrows

"I didn’t…confess." Mitford toppled over the waist high railing.

"He confessed. You all heard it he definitely confessed." "Your honor please." "Someone get this man a doctor." "Let us pray for his salvation." "ORDER IN THIS COURT ORDER I SAY."

Their words swirled together and then silence, at least for James Mitford.

Mitford awoke to the smiling face of the Reverend DeBroc on the other side of the rust red bars and a splitting headache. "It is my duty as the new spiritual leader of this community to offer solace. You have been sentenced to hang at dawn, after which we’ll be burning your body and then scattering the ashes, or something like that. Would you like to confess your sins now or should we do that a little later?"

"Hanged. But I’m innocent"

"I know," DeBroc’s smile grew longer and for the first time Mitford noticed the slight points on the crowns of his teeth. "You all claim innocence when found guilty. But what makes this especially delicious is that you really are innocent."

"You know?"

"Of course."

"But how?"

"Think about it, simpleton. I know you didn’t do it because I did. I’ll tell you I don’t know which I enjoyed more, doing it, and I do mean doing it to that little girl or watching them blame you for it."

"I don’t understand."

"I had to get you out of the way. You’re just the kind of Dudley-Do-Right who would get in the way. And I’m on a pretty tight schedule what with the Second Coming, coming and all. Big Boss isn’t too happy with those who interfere with his work."

"But I’ve done nothing but Serve the Lord."

"Man, you just don’t get it do you? You must have hit your head pretty hard cause I know you’re not this stupid. I never said it was Gawd’s work that I was doing. More like undoing. Well, I’ll be around if you need me."

DeBroc turned and with a wink stepped through the prison wall into the rising sun.