“The game’s afoot.” - Sherlock Holmes
Mr. Matthews watched as the students began filing into the bleachers on the north side of the gymnasium, heading to their assigned places, according to their house. Providence utilizes a “house system” for the sake of student government and competition (athletic and academic). There are four houses in the school and each is named after an important Christian thinker from a different part of history. Augustine House, Aquinas House, Pascal House, and Lewis house. Each house has its own colors and is made up of students from 7th-12th grade. The older students are given responsibilities of leadership which includes helping plan various school events, minor issues of discipline, and they are also expected to mentor the younger students and offer tutoring to those who are struggling.
Each house also has a faculty mentor. Mr. Matthews was the mentor for Pascal house, Mrs. Cody was the mentor for Lewis house, Mr. Cole was the mentor for Augustine house, and Mr. Fitzgerald was the mentor for Aquinas house. Fitz was known to complain that there were no houses named after good Lutherans like Melancthon or Hamann but Mr. Matthews would take those occasions to remind him that none of the houses were named after a Presbyterian either (which is Mr. Matthews’ tradition) but that he was okay with it and Fitz should be too. For the most part the faculty all thought the houses were named after worthy sorts.
As he scanned the student body, now seated in their places, Mr. Matthews noted that there was an unusual mix of quietness and nervous energy. He realized that the students must be earnestly desperate for news about Mr. Fitzgerald for them to be waiting so quietly. It was as if they thought the quiet would hurry the school’s administration into speech. Mr. Matthews’ eyes roved over the crowd of students and faculty but he was not paying them much special attention because his own mind was reeling. He couldn’t think what all this could all be about. He knew Fitz pretty well, better than most of his other colleagues did. They had spent considerable time together on off periods, and at the local pub after school, chatting about books, religion, philosophy, and other things friends tend to talk about.
Mr. Matthews mused over the unique character of his friend. Fitz was prone to making sweeping and dubious theological claims but when he was pressed by any opposition he would retreat with the statement, “Well, I am not a theologian.” This dodge used to frustrate Mr. Matthews who had often logically painted Fitz into a corner but, eventually, it became just one more thing that made him roll his eyes at his friend. Nowadays when Fitz would drop this line Mr. Matthews would just chuckle and respond, “No, you are definitely not.” On one occasion they were at a fast food restaurant and when the poor lady at the register asked Fitz what he would like, Fitz replied, “I would like tp return to a time of Ciceronian eloquence!” He then proceeded to recite a Latin poem to her after exclaiming that it would be in “Iambic pentameter!” Mr. Matthews had never seen a look of such bewilderment on another person’s face as was present upon the countenance of that poor woman.
As he reflected on his friend, and the recent conversations they had had, nothing so much as a hint presented itself to him as to what this trouble could be about. Nothing had been said about any fears or concerns or arguments with neighbors. He didn’t seem worried about anything nor any more tense than usual. Nothing in Fitz’s character suggested that he would ever do anything more illegal than making his little white Corolla an unlawful trash dump. Mr. Matthews’ revelries of thought were interrupted by a hand being laid upon his left shoulder. The hand belonged to Mr. Cole, the upper school art teacher.
“Titus, what’s all this about Fitzy getting pinched by the police?” he asked.
“I wish I knew. Hopefully we are about to find out more.”
Mr. Ian Cole is tall and slender with blue eyes and he carries himself with the air of a Marine. He had served several tours in Iraq and seen combat there though it isn’t something he often talks about. It’s not that he hides the fact that he was in the military, he just isn’t big on sharing many details about what went on over there. Mr. Matthews never pressed him for information about it which is, perhaps, why he knew more about it than many others did. Ian was one of Titus’ closer friends at Providence. He, Fitzy, Jim Shay (who taught Rhetoric and one of the Great Books seminars), and Devon Snyder (the headmaster) were all fairly good friends and they went to the local pub, Chandler Brewing Co., most Thursdays after school to talk about what they have been reading, writing, or teaching lately.
“Here comes Devon” said Ian. Mr. Snyder was now walking to the center of the gym where a microphone on a stand had been set up. The silent anticipation of the students grew to a roar.
“Thank you, students, for so quickly and calmly coming to this assembly. No point in beating around the bush, so I’ll get right to it. This morning, just last period in fact, the police came to our school and demanded to know immediately where Mr. Fitzgerald was. Of course we told them and I escorted them to the room in which he had been teaching. They would not tell me anything about why they were until we got to the room. Upon entry they they told Mr. Fitzgerald that he was under arrest and being charged with murder.”
At this there was an audible gasp of unbelief from the crowd and then a stirring of exclamations to the effect of “No way!” and “They’re wrong!” There was not a soul in that group of people who found any credibility to the preposterous claim “Mr. Fitz is a murderer.”
Mr. Snyder raised his hands calling for calm and quiet once more. He then spoke again, “There is much still that we do not know. I only want to make sure you are aware of the facts of the situation that we have so as to avoid as much rumor or speculation as possible. The police made this arrest and charge in front of a classroom full of students and so it is public information and best that you all know it.”
“Mr. Fitz would never kill anyone!” Yelled Lillian Thomas, a red headed 9th grader with tears rolling down her cheeks. Her motion was heartily seconded and carried by popular vote in an instant.
“I am certainly not saying that I think otherwise, Miss Thomas. I am simply relaying the facts that Mr. Fitzgerald was arrested and that he has been charged with murder. I am not saying I believe the police are correct.” Mr. Snyder was visibly emotionally drained. “All we can do, for now, is wait for more information and pray for Mr. Fitzgerald during this trying and difficult time. Let’s pray that the police will discover the real truth and that justice will be done upon the true culprit.”
Elizabeth Cho, who was sitting dead center in front of Mr. Snyder, stood and raised her hand. Mr. Snyder acknowledged her, “Yes, Miss Cho?”
“Do we know…” she faltered for a moment, “Do we know who has been murdered?”
The crowd fell back into a deep silence. Everyone had been so busy being sure that Mr. Fitz would never murder anyone that most of them hadn’t spared a thought to the fact that someone obviously was, in fact, dead. Further that whomever had died, might even be someone they knew. The eyes of the whole gymnasium turned in uniform anticipation from Elizabeth back to Mr. Snyder.
“Sadly…yes.” Started Mr. Snyder. “Yes, and many of you will know something of the unfortunate victim. The person who has been murdered is Mr. Pemberton.” This name was immediately recognized by a handful of students but more uniformly recognized by most of the faculty.
“Good God have mercy.” mumbled Ian.
“But, no, that’s…” began Titus.
“For those of you who don’t know him by name” continued Mr. Snyder, “Mr. Pemberton is the owner of New Earth Books. Many of you, I am sure, have been in the store and have bought books from Mr. Pemberton; even if you did not know his name. Our school has contracted with them for several years now to carry our entire K-12, required reading, book list.”
Titus knew exactly who the man was. He had been into New Earth books on numerous occasions to look through their massive collection of new and used books. It was a very unique kind of bookstore as it did not occupy some glass fronted section of a strip mall but, rather, it was an old turn of the 20th century Victorian style house. It was a very large house with many rooms, two stories, and a basement. The whole house, on every floor, was filled wall to wall with books. It was definitely not a discount bookstore but it was a very charming kind of experience to shop there. One of the great things about this store was that the books they carried were generally the kind worth buying. A family owned business they chose what they did and did not carry as opposed to being told what to carry by some corporate office or book distributor. There were no trashy romance novels to be bought there, nor were there any “self help” books or weird new age materials. They carried the “Great Books” whose value has been proven over the centuries (e.g. Homer, Plato, Virgil, Boethius, Augustine, Aquinas, Dante, Chaucer, Shakespeare, Gibbon, etc.). They carried contemporary works of history, theology, and philosophy as well. They carried the best in fiction for adults and children, the kind where great story drives the plot rather than having the story serve some political or ideological agenda in current fashion. At such a store as this you could find the writings of Fredrick Douglas but not the works of Ibram X. Kendi. You could find Lord of The Rings, Crime and Punishment, Emma, Starship Troopers, Sherlock Holmes, 100 Cupboards, The giver, Winnie the Pooh, Wind in the Willows, or The Green Ember but you couldn’t find The Golden Compass, Captain Underpants, or My Two Mommies if your life depended on it.
Mr. Snyder was speaking again but Mr. Matthews had been lost in his thoughts for a moment. “...so then we will be drawing our school day to a close early. Your parents have all been contacted by email and we are in the process of reaching out by phone call as well. It doesn’t seem wise to try to just push through the day like it’s any other day. It being a Friday we will all have a bit of time to process this news with our families before returning on Monday. Many of you have younger siblings in our grammar school. I would urge you to use caution and good judgment about discussing this matter in front of them. Let your parents decide how much they would like to tell them about the situation. Please, let us all try to avoid useless speculation about what we don’t know.” He looked around for the P.E. teacher while continuing, “You are to remain here in the gym until one of your parents arrives and signs you out. Perhaps Mr. Xavier can organize something for you to do here in the gym to pass the time until everyone is released? Ah…yes, thank you Mr. Xavier I knew I could count on you.” Mr. Xavier was giving him the thumbs up. “First, however, let us have a word of prayer for the situation.”
As the prayer concluded Mr. X quickly moved to the microphone to organize a 7-12th grade dodgeball tournament. Just one of the many “banned at public schools” activities that Providence still reveled in. One of Titus’ favorite things was to watch the Grammar school recess where kids would haul out their plastic lightsabers they had brought to school in their backpacks in order to have epic battles for the fate of the galaxy. Usually no one really died, but a good time was always had. It was sort of an unspoken part of the curriculum, you might say, that at this school they believed it valuable to sometimes get a little hurt and be able to shake it off and carry on. Banning every activity that might result in injury wasn’t preparation for the real world or the kind of bravery that young men and women might need to exhibit in this life when push comes to shove. A small lesson really, but perhaps not so small as one might think.
“Well, there you have it.” Said Mr. Cole.
“Completely mad.” Said Mr. Matthews. “There is no possible way that Fitz actually murdered Pemberton. He loves that store. He spends half his paycheck at New Earth and Mr. Pemberton loves him for it. It makes no sense.”
Mr. Snyder strolled up to Titus and Ian. “Not at all how I envisioned the day playing out when I got up this morning.”
“Do you know any more than what you just told the students?” Queried Ian.
“Honestly, not much.” Replied Mr. Snyder. “I am not really pleased by the way this was handled, I can tell you that. It seems to me that the police officers could have asked Fitz to step outside of the classroom before reading him his rights but, no, they just slapped cuffs on him in front of a class full of seventh graders. Bad form, I think.”
“It does seem to lack a certain level of propriety.” Said Mr. Matthews.
“It struck me that the detective who led the uniformed officers into the classroom was rather proud of himself and not open to discussing anything with me about what he ought or ought not do.” Replied Mr. Snyder.
“Did you catch the detective’s name? I have a friend who works for the Chandler Police Department, he might be able to help me get some more information.” Offered Mr. Matthews.
“I did” retorted Snyder, “His name is Detective Mark Pollock.”
“Devon, would you mind if I popped off early since we have the students contained until their parents arrive? I’d like to see what I can find out.”
“Please do.” Came his reply. “I don’t think any of us will have any peace of mind until we know more. Just be sure to share whatever you find out.”
“Of course.” Returned Titus.
At that he took another brief glance at the students who were mostly keeping themselves busy dodging balls but he noticed that some were huddled in corners discussing things rapidly while others simply were off to the side looking shell shocked. Titus made up his mind right then and there that he’d do all that was in his power to make sure the truth came out. He was never afraid of the truth. Truth is always your ally. He was certain that Fitz was innocent, purely based on his character. People do not just up and murder other people, he thought to himself. Oh, of course people do murder other people, but they don’t just up and murder people all of a sudden. The kind of person who would intentionally take another’s life was a person full of vice. Were it not so they would not be capable of such an action. Such a person would be the kind who was quick to anger and cherished their anger often, or they would be full of pride and not be able to handle anyone disagreeing with them, or there would be some other such indicator present in them of disordered affections towards some cherished sin. That’s not Fitzy. He wasn’t perfect, of course, but he sought to be a good man, to follow Christ, and to seek after virtue. If Fitz killed anyone it would have to have been an accident and that’s not murder. Either way, more information was needed so Mr. Matthews nodded to his two friends near at hand, topped himself with his tam, and headed for the door.
Enjoying your story. I look forward to the next installment.
Thank you!