Chapter 22: Sacrifice

The fathers of the dating group—I supposed we were going to have to find some name for ourselves eventually—flanked the six boys who bore the casket from the school gymnasium. Seven. Lionel’s older brother supported Josh and helped him carry his share of the load. I walked behind the casket supporting Jack Raymond at his request. The mothers and girlfriends walked behind us.

The next morning, we gathered at the television studio to show our support as Brian made a plea to his television audience for information leading to the arrest and conviction of the perpetrator. The kids had pooled their money and raised a five-thousand-dollar reward. The parents had matched it. I was surprised to find the television studio matched it as well. Brian had created quite a following for his weekly television spot on the cooking show over the past six months. He was turning into a celebrity of sorts, but was using his popularity to search for the murderer. I was keeping an eye on him. I had no doubt that I heard his inmost commitment in the words in the bathroom.

I invited Don and Josh to the house for a quiet dinner that evening. Cassie sat beside the boy and helped with his food. The arm in a cast made eating difficult. We didn’t have deep conversations. We simply relaxed and tried not to open any wounds. Even so, there were mentions of Denise and funny things she had said or done. Occasionally, Josh smiled, but the smile was tinged with sadness. His eyes were hollow and I knew that when he closed them he relived that night. He’d never stood a chance as he was hit from behind. There was no way he could have defended his date but he felt the weight of guilt for her death. He was quickly sinking. Depression.

It was a slow process. I think it is much easier to deal with the first three stages of grief than the fourth. Denial, anger, and bargaining are passed through when the mourner realizes death is implacable. It can’t be denied, anger is impotent, and there is really no bargain that can be struck. But depression settles in and won’t let go. It was what led me to alcoholism. The constant thinking ... hammering in my skull ... about things I couldn’t change. My own impotence. And drinking only drove me further inside. I wanted to be there for Josh, to let him know that he was supported, but I’m an adult.

It was Cassie who invited him to church with us a few weeks after the incident. I was surprised when he accepted the invitation. His father declined, saying that he found comfort in the Methodist Church and didn’t feel inclined to change. He was not going to discourage his son from going, though.

Church service led to Sunday dinner together. Just after school let out, I took him up in my little Cub. It’s not the most intimate place to have a conversation. Even though we were isolated, it was noisy. When we landed, Josh smiled at me and for the first time, gave me a hug. Then he was gone again.

Independence Day week was a time of quiet celebration for us. I finally got Don Whitaker to go up in the plane for a bit and he came down as peaceful as his son had.

“I can see why you love it,” he said. “Flying around up there was like nothing I’ve ever felt.”

“Anytime you’d like a ride, I’m happy to oblige,” I said. “I fly whenever I can and there are two seats.”

“Maybe not me, but Josh ... John, I don’t know what to say. Thank you for being a friend to my son and me.”

With the Fourth on a Wednesday, of course, the bank was open Thursday and Friday for regular hours and until noon on Saturday. I went in on the fifth but took the rest of the week off. I intended to fly and thought I’d invite Josh for a training session in the Cessna. I kept it over at the Elkhart airport rather than storing it at home. I could land and take off from my grass strip, but only just. And it was used as a trainer by CAP, part of my continuing involvement in the program. Dad had signed both trainers over to me in exchange for occasional rides. He’d battled through his first and second rounds of cancer, but he was looking old and frail at seventy-five.

Josh arrived and came to my study where I’d just turned on the noon news.

“We’ll leave as soon as the news is over,” I said.

“Can I watch, too?” Cassie said from the doorway. I wondered if it was the news she was interested in or Josh. Bea brought iced tea to all of us as we listened to reports of the clean-up in Iraq and Kuwait. Then our lives were changed.

Police have released details of the bizarre accidental suicide of a Mishawaka man two weeks ago. At the same time, they have made arrests in the murder of St. Joe Valley High School student Denise Raymond and the beating of her boyfriend, Josh Whitaker. DNA samples taken from the body of Lester Hawkins match samples taken from the deceased girl in May. Hawkins was found—can we actually say this on-air? Viewers, I won’t continue this story without giving you a warning. Police have included a graphic description of the crime and suicide that may be disturbing to our viewers. Please mute or turn your channel if this is too much.

Hawkins’s body was found by cemetery caretakers, slumped against the newly placed headstone of the murdered teen. He had been ... auto-fellating ... on her grave when he apparently lost his balance and struck his head on the stone. The blow caused the man to sever his own penis with his teeth and while unconscious he choked to death on it. Police have revealed that Miss Raymond was choked to death while being orally raped by the same appendage. Two additional arrests have been made in connection with the rape, murder, and assault based on information police gathered during the investigation. Charges have been filed.

This report is deeply disturbing on many levels. WBBT extends again its condolences to the family and friends of Denise Raymond and to Josh Whitaker. We pray that at least this bizarre and inhuman conclusion to the story gives you peace in the knowledge that justice was served on the perpetrator of this ghastly act.

Josh fell to his knees beside my desk.

“Praise God! He did it.”

All thought of flying was gone. Our phone rang almost at once and Cassie’s friend Liz was on the line. They’d no more than hung up than Cassie was dialing Brenda Lenox. At some point, the phone rang again and Marilyn Frost asked us to join everyone for a memorial that evening at their house.

It was emotional, of course. Hayden lit a fire in his back yard and close to fifty of us circled it, just talking to each other, hugging, and sometimes offering a prayer for peace. The families had pooled resources quickly and there was food spread on a picnic table. Somehow, it was consumed, though I didn’t remember filling my own plate.

Late in the evening, as the fire was dying, I saw a movement in the shadows. Josh was standing off to my right and Brian off to my left. They were thirty feet apart but seemed connected eye-to-eye. Brian had been silent all evening, even as people were offering memories around the fire—unusual for him, I thought. But as he and Josh held each other’s attention, I saw a cold hardness in his eyes and remembered the words I’d heard in the hospital restroom. Eventually, Brian gave a small nod to Josh and then turned to go into his house. Josh found Don and they left as well. Soon, the remnants of food had been cleaned up, parents and youth all bid goodnight, and we, too, left.

Sunday morning, Pastor Clark’s sermon was all but preempted when Josh strode up the center aisle and knelt at the altar railing.

“God has answered my prayers,” Josh spoke up. “He has brought justice upon the murderers. I dedicate my life to him. Praise God!”

By the start of school in the fall, it was obvious to me that Josh’s visits were becoming less about learning to fly and more about Cassie. They were circumspect. But by October it was obvious that they were dating. Cassie had been elected class president for the third year in a row. Josh was healed physically and went out for basketball again. I’d heard the not-so-subtle rumors that Brian Frost and Samantha Cortales had a handfasting ceremony, something like a wedding, and wondered if that was in the future for Josh and Cassie. Had I sacrificed my daughter to heal that young man? I sighed. At least she’s not with Brian Frost.

Cassandra brought me a new agreement.

“This lays the foundation for a legal corporation,” she explained. “At the moment it is just a club and those of us who aren’t yet eighteen can’t make it a legal agreement. We’ve adopted another thirteen into our clan. On Friday December twenty-two, we’ll formally sign the charter agreement.”

“I’m trying not to jump at what you are saying. Cassandra, tell me what it all means,” I said as calmly as I could. My heart began racing every time she brought me one of these things.

“Daddy, we’re becoming a family. I know how you define family and I think there will come a day when I’m married and present you with a whole bunch of grandchildren. Wouldn’t that be nice? But we started something back when we wrote the agreement,” she said. Oh, yes. They certainly did! But still, I cringed at what her statement meant. “You’ve made it clear that I have to stay here in order to go to college even though most of my hearthmates plan to go to IU in Bloomington. Did you know I got an early acceptance there as well as at Bethel? But I won’t go against your wishes. Josh got early acceptance at Bethel, too, even though he’s doubting that he was called as a missionary. He’s really good at physical things and wants to study Kinesiology. But I think we are meant to be together and like Jacob, who served seven years in order to marry Laban’s daughter, Josh is willing to serve until graduation at Bethel in order to be with me.”