Rothenberg was dumbfounded, shocked speechless. He was retained to provide treatment in a fourth-degree fondling case. This was far worse. This is a first-degree case. These boys were raped! The floodgates opened—details were pouring out now.

Uber drivers, summoned by phone, awaited them and drove them to the restaurant. This 'sleight of hand' was Father Jon's idea. Jennifer felt like an actress in a James Bond movie, but she appreciated the subterfuge.

But why? Who would do such a thing?” Jennifer puzzled, astonished.“I’m not sure yet who they are or exactly what their function is. My sense is they minimize the impact of these kinds of events and limit damage to the church,” Rothenberg surmised.“You have got to be kidding!

So, if a molester arranges to have his file sealed in exchange for a guilty plea, he could be transferred by the church, and if the pastor of the new church wanted to check his record, he wouldn’t have one?

What makes you think he’s done this before? He’s not been prosecuted. I’d bet the church could even bury prosecutions if it wants to . . .

Suddenly polite and cherubic, Judge Pearl addressed the defendant, a voting citizen. "Mr. Jordan, have you had a chance to meet with your attorney?

She adjusted her rearview mirror to look at her two silent sons. Kenny was glaring at Jake fiercely with one finger to his lips, silently ordering him quiet. A single tear ran down Kenny's cheek. The family drove home in silence. Something was terribly wrong.

Outside the door, Jennifer listened in horror. What was it? Someone hurt them. Who? Her thoughts were gathering, inching toward a conclusion, but she resisted. Did something happen at school? Was someone being bullied? The camping trip was fun, wasn't it? She decided that the boys needed professional help but not that night. That night, she would hug them, kiss them, and put them to bed. That night, she would simply love them with all her heart.

Well . . . Gerry visited the family last night. He convinced Jennifer to let him up to the boys’ room to talk to them in private. Little did Jennifer suspect that the problem is the priest.