The Ambition (11 page)

Snow stood and stretched with his free arm. “I’ve already taken a sleeping pill so I can’t talk long, but you should know that the governor called about half an hour ago.”

“Really? What did he say?”

“Just staying in touch. He confirmed it’s between me and McKelvie; he didn’t let on which way he was leaning.”

“Was he upset about the leak to the
Examiner?”

“Not particularly. He said it was bound to get out.”

“What else?”

“He said he had a meeting with Halberstam and was glad everything was checking out. Then he told me that he likes the idea that I resign from the church.”

Debra paused. “Only you can make that decision.”

“He said he’d prefer referring to me as a ‘former pastor.’ He encouraged me to consider it.”

Debra still questioned the strategy. What pretense was he going to use for resigning? Would it be too obvious of an attempt to divert attention from his evangelicalism? Would it damage his standing among conservatives because it would look like he was embarrassed about his affiliation with the church?

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him that short of denouncing my faith or abandoning my family, I’d do whatever it takes to get this appointment.”

“Good answer!” she said.

CHAPTER
EIGHT

I

Eric was the dreamer, Art was the implementer. Theirs was a partnership forged by respect and fueled by mutual dependency.

What started as Art Bullock’s attempt to pitch life insurance to Eric Snow quickly developed into an abiding friendship that benefited each of them in different ways.

They immediately resonated with each other the first time they met. Eric liked Art’s tenacity, focus, and intensity, and Art was intrigued and even bemused by Eric’s over–the–top success. They both liked baseball — Eric was an inveterate Chicago Cubs fan, while Art played shortstop in a summer league with the vacuum–cleaner prowess of his favorite player, Don Kessinger of the 1969 Cubs.

After Eric’s spiritual turnaround, their friendship deepened, fueled by common dreams, goals, and plans. A former youth pastor, Art tutored him in theology and the ins–and–outs of practical ministry, while Eric expanded Art’s leadership experience by giving him carte blanche to manage his nascent church. Most of all, they simply liked each other. Laughter was frequent; hanging out became a favorite pastime. Their hearts beat in unison for the same objectives.

Over the years, though, they found that building a church was a lot easier than deepening it. Staging a slick Sunday service was nothing compared to creating an authentic Christian community, a place with single–minded devotion to the teachings of Jesus, where sanctimonious piety was chased away by honest self–reflection and transparent fellowship. A body in which people candidly admitted their sins in a supportive environment, characterized by an abundance of forgiveness, acceptance, mutual support, and grace.

As Art saw it, it was his job to shrink the gap between that ideal and the reality of the local church. Increasingly, his progress has been frustrated by the sheer complexity of managing such a large organization. And that’s what has been gnawing at Art. While he’d been engulfed by administrative details that kept multiplying out of control, Eric Snow had been free to dream new dreams — including a radical new vision in which the church’s central role was elbowed aside by political ambition.

“Eric, I’m telling you, this is wrong, this is trouble, this isn’t the right door to charge through,” Art insisted. It was the Monday after Snow dropped the bombshell about his Senate aspirations in his meeting with the church’s inner circle.

Art had stopped by Eric’s office unannounced the first thing in the morning, catching Snow just as he was hanging up from a phone call with an aide to the governor. Eric remained seated; Art stayed standing — leaning forward, his posture aggressive — on the other side of Snow’s imposing desk.

“God knows what he’s doing,” came Eric’s measured reply. “If he allows my appointment, then that will be confirmation that this is the right path.”

“Don’t spiritualize this!” Art snapped. “Just because an opportunity presents itself doesn’t mean you should chase after it.”

“Don’t worry, the church will be okay. You’ll still be in charge.”

“I’m not concerned about my job. I’m concerned about the message this sends: politics trumps faith. And frankly, I’m concerned about you and me. We’ve been in this together for a long time. I can’t believe the way you presented this huge decision as a fait accompli. Obviously, you’ve been mulling this for quite a while.”

Eric didn’t answer right away — which, for Art, merely confirmed his suspicions: he had been intentionally excluded from the decision–making process because Eric knew full well what his reaction would be.

“The Senate possibility came up pretty suddenly,” Eric explained — which was true, but clearly not the whole story. “Everything crystallized when I got wind of it. I’ve been feeling stale for a while — you’ve sensed that. What can I say? God seems to be taking me in a new direction.”

“How much of this is God — and how much is Debra Wyatt?”

Line crossed.

The senior pastor locked eyes with Art as he slowly stood to his feet, his hands bracing himself on the desk. “Just what are you insinuating?”

Art relaxed his tone. “I’m just saying — she hasn’t been an elder very long; in fact, she hasn’t been a committed Christian very long. She still sees everything through a political prism. I’m not convinced she’s the right person to be your main counsel on this.”

Eric stood up straight, signaling the end of the conversation. “Art, you’ve got to trust me on this. My mind is made up. One hundred percent.”

Art knew Eric well enough to recognize that continued opposition would be futile. He also knew that if the congregation didn’t see a united front between them, the entire church could fracture.

“Got it,” he said quietly.

Returning to his office, he prayed that the governor would appoint Reese McKelvie. That would solve everything — at least, for the time being.

On this day, several weeks later, Art was mulling that confrontation while he was driving to a mid–morning dentist appointment. That’s when the call came to his cell phone. To be honest, he didn’t have time for the request that the caller would make. His inclination was to delegate it to another staff member, but then thought better of it.

After all, a long–time and faithful volunteer leader like Phillip Taylor seldom asked for a favor.

II

Transcript

Interview in Examiner conference room with Caroline Turner, May 12

—Thank you for meeting me like this, Ms. Turner. Again, my name is Garry Strider, and I’m going to record our conversation to make sure I report it accurately. Is that okay?

—Yeah, no problem.

—You’re how old?

—Twenty–seven.

—And you live in Schaumburg.

—Meacham Road Apartments.

—You work where?

— I’m a cashier at Skip’s, the liquor store over on Golf Road.

—And counselor, I need your consent too.

—Yes, for the record my name is Brent W. Vandervoort, attorney at law.

— By the way, how did you happen to bring Ms. Turner to me?

—A friend of mine works in Debra Wyatt’s law office. He heard a rumor that you were investigating Diamond Point Fellowship, so that’s why I called you. We’re preparing a lawsuit against the church. We still have some work to do before we file it, but we thought it would be in the public interest to do this interview now, in light of the recent news reports about Reverend Snow.

— Okay, good. Now, Ms. Turner, let’s start at the beginning. Am I correct that you went to Reverend Snow for a personal problem?

— Marriage problems, yeah. My husband and I were separated. We’d been married for maybe three years, but we’d argued right from the start. Billy was drinking, staying out all night, spending all our money. I was blaming myself. I’ve always had a bad self–image, y’know?

— So how did you enter into counseling with Reverend Snow?

— I’d been going to the church on and off for a while.

—Are you a formal member?

— Uh, no, I’m sorta checking things out.

— Okay, go on.

—About six weeks ago, one of Reverend Snow’s messages really hit me; it was about how to deal with anger in a biblical way, and I was feeling a lot of anger toward Billy. I was crying, I was very emotional, and after the service I went down to the front where Reverend Snow was greeting people, and I stood in line to talk with him.

—What did he say?

— He took my hands, both of them, and looked very intensely into my eyes and said, “Why the tears?” I remember that very specifically. And I just started crying harder.

— How did he react?

— He handed me a handkerchief and I wiped my eyes; I’ve still got it, I forgot to give it back. It’s got his initials on it. Anyway, I told him that I’d been feeling furious with my husband for his behavior and that I needed to deal with my anger.

—What did he say?

—That he hoped his message would help. And then he said, “Maybe I can counsel you further.” That kinda surprised me.

—Why?

—Well, it’s a big church; I didn’t expect the head guy to take a personal interest in me.

— Frankly, you’re an attractive woman. Did you suspect that Reverend Snow’s interest might be more personal than professional?

— Didn’t cross my mind. He just seemed really concerned about me. He asked if I could come by Monday for a counseling session.

— Did anyone overhear that?

— [pause] I don’t know. There were people around, but we weren’t talking loud, ‘cuz it was personal, y’know?

— Did he suggest you bring your husband?

— No, I think ‘cuz we were separated, he figured Billy wouldn’t come. Anyway, he said Monday is normally his day off but that he was gonna be in his office around two o’clock if I wanted to stop by.

— So on Monday, what happened?

—Around two o’clock, I knocked on the door of his office — you know, the outer door. There’s like a reception area. He opened the door himself, like he’d been waiting for me. Nobody was around; he said his secretary was off, and we went into his office and he closed the door.

—What kind of door was it?

—What kind of door?

—Yeah.

—Wood. A wood door.

—And what happened next?

— I sat down on the couch — I remember it was under a big framed photo of a scene from a forest. Very green, very pretty.

—What color was the couch?

— Sorta brown, bronze.

— Uh–huh. And he began to talk to you about — what, your marriage?

—Yeah, my marriage, my husband, why we were having problems. He asked about my family growing up. We talked maybe twenty or thirty minutes.

—Mr. Strider, if I may interject. It’s important to point out that Ms. Turner went to see Reverend Snow at his specific suggestion, that she was in a very vulnerable condition, and that he was acting under the auspices of Diamond Point Fellowship. I just want the record to reflect that.

—That’s fine, counselor, but this isn’t a deposition; I’m just trying to find out what happened. So, Ms. Turner, at some point after these initial twenty or thirty minutes, the conversation took a turn. Is that right?

—Yeah. We really hit it off, we were talking about some very personal things, and he started asking me about my sex life with my husband.

— Really? How did he bring that up?

— He said, “Since you and Billy have been separated, have you been intimate with him?” I said no, he doesn’t come around much.

—Were you surprised by his line of questioning?

—Well, I figured this was the kind of stuff people talk about in counseling. I trusted him. He’s a pastor, right? It didn’t seem creepy or anything; it was kind of natural, like a doctor and a patient. And then he got up —

— He’d been sitting across from you?

— In a chair.

—What kind of chair?

— Umm, I don’t remember. And he got up and moved next to me on the couch, sat real close, and I was starting to freak out a little. He said I was very pretty and that I shouldn’t suppress my impulses — he used that word, “impulses.”

—Mr. Strider, if I may interrupt at this point.

— I really wish you wouldn’t, Mr. Vandervoort.

—Well, I insist. She’s getting into the core of our case now, and I really don’t want her to be too specific because this will be the topic of depositions and court testimony. It doesn’t help us to spell things out step–by–step. She may summarize, that’s fine.

—Summarize? Wait a minute — if I’m going to take your charges seriously, then I need to hear her entire story and assess its credibility.

—Oh, she’s credible all right.

—Then let her tell me what happened. Ms. Turner, did he try to kiss you?

—Yeah, he did.

— Did you resist?

— I pushed him off, yeah.

—What did he do then?

— He took my hand — and … [Sounds of crying]

—Mr. Strider, please. She’s still very upset about this. All she wants to say at this point is that there was inappropriate contact of a sexual nature that was against her will; that she got up to leave and he pulled her back onto the couch; and that she struggled free and she fled the office. Isn’t that right, Ms. Turner? [pause] Let the record show she nodded.

— Did she go to the police?

— No, she was too embarrassed.

— Ms. Turner, why didn’t you go to the authorities?

—She was too embarrassed, Mr. Strider. Can’t you see she’s upset? Let the record show she’s sobbing.

— Look, Mr. Vandervoort, I’m trying to write an article here. That’s a little difficult if you won’t let your client tell me her story in her own words.

—When the suit is filed, it’ll be specific. You can quote from that.

— Do you have any corroboration at all, Mr. Vandervoort? Or will it be her word against his?

—She called her cousin and told her about it that same day. In tears.

— Her cousin?

—This will all be played out in court. We’ll present our entire case then. She can describe things that she never would have known if she hadn’t been in Reverend Snow’s private office.

—Mr. Vandervoort, I’ve been doing a lot of research on Diamond Point; about six months ago their church magazine published a photograph of the elders sitting on that couch in Reverend Snow’s office. And it clearly showed the framed photo of the very green forest behind it.

— Nevertheless …

—You waited until Snow was announced as a Senate candidate before you brought this whole thing up. Doesn’t that seem a little fishy, Mr. Vandervoort? How do I know you’re not just trying to cash in?

—All right, that’s enough!

— I’ll tell you what this looks like: you want to put pressure on Snow for a settlement by having me write this article, and you want to withhold details as leverage. That way, you can say to Snow, “You’d better settle or we’ll release more salacious stuff.”

—That’s absurd! Look, we’ve tried to tell you our story, but now I’m asking you to turn off your recorder.

— Not before I ask one more question. Ms. Turner, aren’t you aware that Reverend Snow’s door isn’t merely wooden — that it’s got a large window in it so that his secretary can monitor what goes on in his office in order to ward off allegations like these?