Presumed Guilty (16 page)

Now eighty, Roger was living in Palm Desert. He had been the preacher at Hillside when Ron was called. At that time, in the quaint old church building, the membership was around 300, good people, examples of Christian charity and discipleship.

Roger and his wife, Betty, were mentors for Ron and Dallas. Then they moved to Palm Desert, and over the years the contacts were limited to Christmas cards and one long letter Roger wrote a few years ago informing them of Betty’s passing.

Roger greeted her in the front yard of his home. “It’s been so long, Dallas. I’m very happy to see you.” He gave her a hug. “What do you think of the place?”

She looked around at the sandy yard, which was like the yards of the other modest homes in the neighborhood. No grass out here. “You spent your life preaching warnings against hell. Now you live there.”

He laughed. “It only gets up to about 120 in the summer. Child’s play. Come on inside.”
His home was done in a Southwest style. Roger was originally from New Mexico, where he pastored a church before coming to Hillside. He had some iced tea ready for them in the living room, which was decorated with a collection of multifaceted rocks.
“I hope you know I’ve been praying for you and Ron,” he said when they were settled. “I can’t imagine how you feel.”
“Did you ever see
Braveheart
?”
“The Mel Gibson movie? One of my favorites.”
“Remember what they do to him at the end? Well, that’s what it feels like. Tearing out the insides.”
Roger nodded. His face was full of understanding, as she knew it would be. He got up and took a rock off a shelf. “I collect these things,” he said. “This one’s interesting.”

He handed the dark rock to Dallas. “What is it?” she asked. “Gneiss.”
She looked at it. “Nice enough.”
“Not
nice.
G-N-E-I-S-S. Pronounced the same way
.
It’s a metamorphic rock. The minerals that compose gneiss are the same as granite, but only after intense pressure and heat.” He paused. “Think you can relate to this rock?”

Smiling, Roger said, “You got the picture. You’ll come out of this stronger. So will Ron. I’ll go see him.”
“Would you?”
“Certainly. What about your kids? How are they taking it?”
“Cara’s managing, but Jared . . . Oh, boy.” She told him about Jared. Everything. And the helplessness she felt because the medical experts didn’t seem able to do anything for him. When she finished her eyes were wet.
“I’m sorry,” Roger said quietly. “I’m not surprised, though.”
“Why not?”
“There’s an angle here the VA isn’t considering, because if they did the ACLU would be all over them.”
“What sort of angle?”
“Spiritual. It’s spiritual battle being waged, so if they don’t recognize it, how can they help?”
“You mean demonic?”
Roger nodded. “We don’t know how demons influence us. How they get into our thoughts, how they suggest things. We only know they do it. In Ephesians we read about the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that now works
in
people. Then there is the horrible account of the Gerasene demoniac, in whom was Legion, many demons.”
“And you think that’s what’s happening here?”
“I have something in a file.” He got up and went to a file cabinet by his bookshelf. He opened a drawer and rifled through it. “Yes, here it is. It’s something that was in the
New York Times
over a year ago. A psychologist from Stanford, reflecting on what happened at Abu Ghraib. Listen. ‘I believe that the prison guards at the Abu Ghraib Prison in Iraq, who worked the night shift in Tier 1A, where prisoners were physically and psychologically abused, had surrendered their free will and personal responsibility during these episodes of mayhem.’ ”
“No free will?”
“
Surrendered
free will. There’s more. ‘These eight army reservists were trapped in a unique situation in which the behavioral context came to dominate individual dispositions, values, and morality to such an extent that they were transformed into mindless actors alienated from their normal sense of personal accountability for their actions — at that time and place.’ ”
Dallas could only shake her head at this.
“It’s our ignorance of the demonic that is at issue here,” Roger explained. “Demons are territorial. They control areas. When the people in those areas worship the demon, the demon feeds. Gains power. Gains control. And there is every reason to believe that the stronghold of all demonic forces in the world resides in southern Iraq.”
“Babylon,” Dallas whispered.
“Precisely. Ancient Babylon. Also known as Shinar and the land of the Chaldeans. The presumed location of Eden, now Eden corrupted. In Revelation we are told that Babylon is the habitation of devils, the hold of every foul spirit. That’s quite a claim.”
“Still?”
“Why not? In Babylon, the chief god was Marduk, also called Bel. I firmly believe that Marduk is real, and is another name for Satan.”
“This is starting to blow me away.”
“It should.”
“This Marduk is Satan?”
“Listen to the development: In the beginning, God creates the heavens and the earth. He creates man and places him in Eden. The serpent, Satan, begins with Eve, and the first thing he does is call into question God’s Word. ‘Ye shall not surely die,’ he tells her. He is a corrupter of God’s truth.
“The Babylonian creation myth is a corrupted version of the truth. In this story, Marduk becomes chief god by defeating the goddess of the sea, Tiamat. Marduk, Satan, rewrote the truth for his benefit, and Babylon fell to worshiping him.”
“I’ve never heard this before.”
“It’s not surprising. Let me show you something.” Roger went to his bookcase, which was packed, and pulled out a heavy volume. He leafed through it until he came to the page he wanted, then laid the book on Dallas’s lap. She looked down at an image of some sort of monarch.
“This,” said Roger, “is a drawing of Marduk, taken from a carving dating to ancient Babylon. Notice that he’s wearing a crown studded with fine stones. His garment is equally resplendent, and he holds a rod and ring, symbols of authority.”
“And what’s the creature at the bottom?” A terrible-looking head popped out from behind Marduk’s robe.
“That is a serpent, but it is not a separate entity. It is the bottom half of Marduk himself.”
“This is so strange . . .”
“Now, who was the original inhabitant of Eden?”
“Adam.”
“Before that.”
Dallas frowned. “Satan?”
“Precisely.” Roger opened his Bible, turned pages. “Listen to this, from Ezekiel chapter twenty-eight. ‘Thou hast been in Eden, the garden of God; every precious stone was thy covering, the sardius, topaz, and the diamond, the beryl, the onyx, and the jasper, the sapphire, the emerald, and the carbuncle, and gold.’ I’m with the scholars who say this is a description of Lucifer before his rebellion. Lucifer is Latin for
light-bearer
, which is what we find in Isaiah 14, when Satan is described as ‘son of the morning’ or ‘morning star.’ He is also equated with the king of Babylon.”
“It fits, doesn’t it?”
“Cut to today. Marduk, Satan, rules in the place where your son was fighting. The demons are strong. They infect, they invade. Soldiers come home affected. It’s as if you were to go swimming in a polluted lake. You think you’re doing fine, but all along you’re being infected. Sometimes the bacteria incubates, only asserts itself later. Outside of Christ, that’s what happens to us, especially when we enter strongholds of demonic presence. And no stronghold is more formidable than Babylon.”
Shaking her head, Dallas said, “Are you saying that demons have followed Jared back here?”
“There is so much we don’t know about demonic activity,” Roger said. “Except that it’s real. You’ve read accounts of people coming into contact with some mysterious stranger who has helped them in times of trouble and then disappears?”
“Angels.”
“Right. Sometimes in a time of terrible crisis, with death imminent, an angelic presence offers deliverance. Why then would we be surprised that fallen angels, demons, don’t also operate in this world?”
“It’s scary.”
“For those outside of Christ, certainly. But in Christ all of the power of God is on our side. Greater is he who is in us than he who is in the world.”
“What do we do?”
“The Bible tells us: Put on the full armor of God. All of it. Leave out one piece and you’re vulnerable. Of course, this first requires that we be in Christ. That we have the new birth. That we are a child of God. Otherwise, we’re vulnerable. Your son, is he a Chris tian?”
“He confessed Christ and was baptized, back when he was ten.”
“Then you and I, we’ll pray against the powers of the air that are seeking your son’s destruction.”
“And for Ron.” She was relieved to have said it. In that moment she made her decision. She was going to fight for Ron and for her marriage.
Roger nodded. “And for Ron. He’s a target too, because he went after pornography, a powerful weapon of the enemy. But the name of Jesus is more powerful than all the host of hell. I believe that, Dallas. Do you?”
“I do.”
“That’s all we need.”

When she got back home, around four o’clock, Dallas found Jared on the sofa, his leg draped over the arm, watching TV. “Jared, we have to talk. Now.”
“What about?”
“God.”
“Not now, Mom, okay?”
“When?”
He shrugged. “Look, I’ve been thinking of going back to Bakersfield, to — ”
“You can’t go anywhere. Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“First of all, you have to deal with that drunk-driving arrest.”
He made a James Cagney voice. “They’ll never catch me.”
“I’m serious. But there’s something else. Jared, I know your faith isn’t strong right now, but I had a long talk with Roger Vernon today. Do you remember him?”
He thought a moment. “He was the pastor before Dad took over. He taught my Sunday school a couple of times.”
“Then you remember that he was always a good man of the Word.”
“I guess.”
“He laid something out for me, something that you need to know. It’s about demonic activity.”
“Mom — ”
“Listen, please. You can’t fight this battle on your own. You need the power of God.” She told him, in abbreviated form, about Roger’s Babylon theory.
When she was finished Jared thought about it for a long time. “If you were into that sort of thing, I guess it might make sense.”
“Then call on God.”
“What I’m saying is that I’m not into that sort of thing.” “Why not? What’s changed?”
He shook his head. “We had a chaplain over there, and I went to him one day and asked him why God was allowing this to happen. He said God is just as upset as we are about it, but he’s not really able to stop it. He’s growing right along with us.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Is it? I think it’s a pretty good explanation.”
“It’s not what the Bible teaches.”
“Who cares? Nobody uses the Bible anymore.”
“If I believed that I’d have no hope at all.”
“Welcome to my world.”
“Jared, please give God another try. Put him to the test.”
“It’s all right, Mom.”
“Don’t just try to mollify me. I’m serious about this. You either believe in God or you don’t. You believe in the God of the Bible or you don’t.”
“I don’t.”
Dallas flopped back in a chair.
Jared sat up straight. “Mom, you’ve given it your best shot. Time to cut your losses.”
“Losses? What are you talking about?”
“Dad. Me.”
“Stop it, Jared.”
“Why?” He jumped up. “It’s true, you know it. Face it! I’m gone, there’s something wrong with me. It’s not going to be straightened out by God or anybody else.”
“Jared — ”
“And Dad’s been lying to you, for years probably. To both of us, to Cara too. You’re too good for us, Mom. Move on with your life.”
“I’m not giving up on you, Jared. Or your father. He’s come clean to me, he asked me to forgive him.”
“He’s come clean?” Jared’s voice was skeptical.
“I saw him. He told me a lot of things.”
“How do you know he’s not lying again?”
“I know because I was looking right at him.”
“You’re so naïve.”
That brought Dallas to her feet, cheeks burning. “You think that? You really think that?”
“Yeah. I love you, Mom, but you’re not in the real world sometimes.”
“And I suppose you are? In the stinking mess you call a world, that’s real to you?”
His eyes were cold. “You know it is.”
“I don’t know. You’re the one who’s naïve, Jared. You deny God. You deny the truth. You’re wallowing in your misery. Well, it’s time to snap out of it.”
“You think I want this?”
“Maybe you do. If you don’t turn it over to God, it’s over.”
“Then it’s over. This whole idea was stupid.” He turned his back on her and started toward the door.
She followed him. “What idea?”
“Coming home,” he said.
“Don’t go.”
He faced her. “You go back to your world, Mom, if that makes you happy.”
Then he opened the door and left.
Dallas didn’t call after him.

When you spend twenty-three hours a day in a box by yourself, you have time to think.
I was thinking about irony today.
I used to do a prison ministry when I first got to Hillside. Each Wednesday evening I’d take a little group out to Sylmar and preach to the inmates. That was before the membership at Hillside started to build, and I started putting all my efforts toward growing the church.
As I think about it now, the prison ministry, like the street preaching I used to do, made me depend on God, kept me on the edge, in a good way. The more popular I got, the less sharp the edge.
A. W. Tozer said something about preachers who seek comfort. It’s easy to do in the ministry. Popularity becomes an opiate.
And that dulls the mind and even the moral sense. That helps explain Amy Shea and Melinda Perry.
Explains, doesn’t excuse.
I am saying the twenty-third Psalm, over and over, out loud.

That night, Dallas dreamed of something just beyond her reach. It was dark in the dream and she had to get this thing, or whatever it was, or she and her whole family would be lost or dead.

Dread, the substance of nightmares, infused her sleep. She tried to will herself to wake up, but not before transport to the edge of a cliff, looking down into dark waters. There. The thing was in there, but she was too high to reach it.

If she jumped, she might die. If she stayed, she might die. And behind her, something approached.
She woke up breathless, as if she’d fallen on her stomach. She fought for air. She was alone in the bedroom and it was still dark outside.
For a moment she sat in the silence, steadying her breathing.
And then she heard the floorboard squeak downstairs.
Jared. He’d come home.
But was he all right? She listened to the cadence of the footsteps, wondering if she could tell if he was drunk or drugged.
She couldn’t. And the sounds ceased.
Which could have meant he was passed out. Or lying on the couch watching TV.
Dallas thought about going back to bed. Maybe he just wanted to be alone. But she couldn’t. She had always checked on Jared, ever since he slept in a bassinette.
Throwing on a robe, she went downstairs.
It was dark. All lights out.
Then she saw the flickering glow of the TV screen.
“Jared?”
No answer. And no sound coming from the set. Just the flicker.
She went into the family room expecting Jared to be on the couch.
No one was there.
“Jared, where are you?”
The lights came on. And Dallas almost screamed.
Chad McKenzie was leaning against the far wall.
“Evening.”
A hundred thoughts ripped through Dallas’s mind. At the top of the heap was the one that reminded her she had not secured a stun gun as Jeff suggested.
“Get out of my house.” She tried to put menace in the words, but they sounded flat.
Chad smiled. “A nice house too. You’ve done very well for yourself, Dallas.”
“What do you think you’re going to accomplish here? You’ve broken into my home. That’ll send you back to prison.”
“I didn’t break anything. Did you hear anything break?”
“Then how . . .”
“You invited me in, remember? Oh, you may change your story later, but since there’s no evidence, there’s no problem.”
Had he picked the lock? No, she’d left the back door open for Jared. Stupid!
Chad took a step away from the wall. “See, what really happened was I came to see an old friend, and you let me in and we had a nice talk.”
“We are not going to have a nice talk.”
“Sure we are.” He was still wearing the dark coat. He held his hands out in an innocent gesture. “And when it’s over, you’ll understand a few things.”
Dallas shook her head. “I have nothing to say to you, and my son is going to be home soon and he is an ex-Marine.”
The news didn’t faze him a bit. “About that. I’m sure he’s a good kid and all, but he won’t be coming home for a while.”
The horror of the unspoken filled her. “What have you done to him?”
“Maybe we should sit down like good friends and discuss this.”
“Tell me you — ”
“Easy there, Dallas. I wouldn’t want you to fall into sin. Wouldn’t that be a fine how-do-you-do?”
She could fold, do what he said. But then she wouldn’t find out if he was all bluff or not.
The power is not in me. It’s in the armor.
She mentally stepped behind the shield of faith.
“Don’t worry about the boy,” Chad said. “He’ll sleep it off. He’s got a bit of a drinking problem, doesn’t he? Too bad. Some of our boys who served never get over it.”
“Wherever Jared is, God is watching him. He’s watching you too, Chad.”
“I’m really worried about that.”
“You should be.”
“Trying to rattle the old Chadster? That’s not like you.”
“You don’t know me. You don’t know anything. You’re a loser, Chad. You always have been.”
His left cheek twitched. Enough for Dallas to know she’d landed a blow.
In the lull she weighed her alternatives. If she could get to her cell phone, which was charging in the kitchen, she could lock herself in the bathroom and call 911.
“That’s not a very Christian attitude, I must say.”
Or she could grab the hammer from the tool drawer and go for the head.
Chad looked at her, long and lingeringly. “You’ve really kept in shape there, Dallas.”
Now the serious creeps were running all over her. “Tell me why you’re here,” she said, “and then go.”
“You work out?”
“Chad — ”
“I pushed a lot of steel in the slam, kept in pretty good shape myself. And I’m still a very loving person.”
He was going to attack her.
She took a step back. If she made a break, he’d be on her in a second.
The armor . . .
She blurted the first thing that came to her mind. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”
Chad squinted. “What?”
What indeed. But at least she’d stopped his advance.
“Your name is Legion,” Dallas said. “For you are many.”
“You’ve gone bye-bye,” Chad said.
“Every knee shall bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.”
“Shut up.”
“Do not tempt the Lord your God.”
He jumped. It was quick, hard, and he was at her before she could even think.
His hands grabbed her robe. He pushed. She slammed against the wall, her head hitting last with a jarring thud.
His face was in front of her and she could smell his breath, a noxious mix of beer and cigarettes. She fought not to gag.
She raised her arms and went for his face. He anticipated the move, locked his hands on her wrists, and pulled her arms behind her back.
Her arm sockets filled with fire.
Chad McKenzie smiled.
And then he put his face to hers.