Father Flanagan

When Morgan flew to Brazil, he had purchased a one-way ticket. That way, he could choose when and where he would like to return. He landed in Portland, Oregon, hoping to avoid getting arrested immediately. 

Once he was on the ground, there was only one person he wanted to talk to.

“Tam, it’s me.”

A long pause. “Are you back?”  

“Yes. Just landed.”

“Morgan, the entire department is looking for you. They’re going to the Grand Jury this week to get indictments on you for murder.” She sounded upset.  

“I expected that. I’m in for the fight of my life, but I’m more worried about us at the moment.”

“Us? Morgan, I accepted it when you called me and said you’d be gone for awhile. I even understood why you turned your phone off. You needed time away.” Tamra let out an exasperated gasp. “But my God, don’t think it didn’t cross my mind that you wouldn’t come back.”

“Don’t think it didn’t cross my mind either, Tam.” He sighed. “You’re not going to ask me if I did it? Killed those women?”

“Of course not. I don’t need to. I know you didn’t do it.” She was emphatic. 

“Thank you. You don’t know how much that means to me.“ He wished he could see her face. 

“Listen to me. One thing I learned from this separation is that I need you.” He could hear tears in her voice. “But you would’ve been smart to stay away.”

“Look, I know I told you I can’t do us. Nothing is normal for—-“

“I’m pregnant, Morgan.”

“Wait . . . what?” Find something to live for. “Are you sure? I mean, we only did it once.” 

“Sometimes once is enough, Morgan. I’m a week late. I took one of the store test and it was positive. I’ll be getting a test at my gyno tomorrow morning, but I’m pretty sure you knocked me up. I’m sorry, Morgan, but with you in my life or out of it, I’m having our baby. Please don’t be mad at me.”  

Mad? “I’m not mad. I’m ecstatic. Are you telling me that I’m going to be a father? Seriously? That’s awesome!”  

“Really?” He could hear her voice switch immediately from apprehension to joy. 

“Look. It’d be an understatement to say that I have to straighten out some things but, after I’ve handled some stuff, I’ll come over tonight.” He felt a shiver of anticipation run up and down his spine.

“Tonight?” She seemed hesitant.  

“Yes. I can bring dinner with me and we’ll discuss us.” He held his breath, unsure of how she would respond. Am I too damaged for her? 

“Don’t you dare. I’ll make your favorite roast. What time?” 

He did some quick calculations in his head. With the three-hour drive to Seattle and his intended stops, it would be a bit. “How about 7?” 

“Perfect, but Morgan, enter the building the back way. You know, through the alleyway door. I’m pretty sure they’re watching my place, waiting for you to show up.”

After he hung up, Morgan rented a car and headed to the north end of Seattle, where he found himself in a place he never thought he would ever be in again. With a sigh, he went in. 

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It’s been twenty-one years since my last confession.” He could swear he heard the man behind the screen sit up with a start. 

Morgan began slow, with the alcohol abuse and drug use. But, by the time Morgan got past the hooker sexual stories and started on his affair with the married Vicki Vance, the screen slid open. There sat a familiar looking gray-haired spectacled old man. 

“Father Flanagan?”

“In the flesh. Who are you, young man?”

“Morgan Harper.”

“Dale and Jane’s little Morgie?” The priest smiled. 

“Well, I haven’t been called that in many years, but yes.”  

“Lean forward.” The priest stuck his hand through the opening and ruffled Morgan’s hair. “Yep, that’s my Morgie!” 

It had been something everybody did when he was a child. People loved to rustle his blond mop back then. Now it’s more of a blond mess.

“I remember you, Father Flanagan. I suppose Father Benson is still around, too?”

“No, he died some six years ago. It’s just me now.”  

“Oh, sorry. Should I continue with my confession?”

“Listen, Morgie, it sounds like you’re a sin-riddled mess of a soul.” Morgan could see a sad smile on the man’s face. 

“Yep. That about sums it up.”  Morgan shrugged. “Although just saying ‘a mess’ would’ve sufficed.”

“When’s the last time you talked to God? I mean really got down on your hands and knees and talked to the Almighty Creator?”

“Umm . . . I think Bill Clinton was still president.” Morgan sighed. “So, a few decades.”

“I’m only asking, because unconventional sin needs unconventional methods.”  Father Flanagan gave him a knowing smile. 

“I’m not sure I follow.” I’m sure I don’t.

“How about this. Go over to the pews over there and get down on your knees and talk to God directly.  I mean really talk to him.  Lay it all out. Whatever’s on your heart. Can you do that?” 

“I can try."

Father Flanagan let out a snort. “Try? No Morgie, you do more than try. You do it. I’ll leave and keep everyone out so you’ll have the entire sanctuary to yourself.”

“I don’t think He wants to hear from me.” Morgan slumped down in the confessional, as if he were trying to hide. “I’ve done terrible things.”

“Nonsense. He listens to everyone. He’s God. How He responds, well that’s a different story.” Father Flanagan winked at him. 

“Okay, Father.” Morgan rose. 

They both exited their respective confessional doors. Father Flanagan came around and rustled Morgan’s hair one more time. “Good to see you, my boy.”

“You too, Father.” Morgan meant it. The man reminded him of his parents and of better times. 

“Now go. You don’t want to keep Him waiting. And next time, don’t wait twenty-one years to visit. Maybe even shave that jungle thingy you have growing on your face.” With that, the elderly priest walked away.  

The shamed-filled Morgan slowly made his way to the front pew. A sad-looking Jesus on a large cross stared at him from the back wall. He had always heard Protestants had crosses without Jesus on them while Catholics had Him on there. Odd thing to think about at this moment, but I think I’m stalling. Okay, I know I’m stalling. God still scares me. 

Morgan got down on his knees and folded his hands in prayer. “When I was a kid I used to go to confessional and each time I would confess my greatest sin. It was always cursing. Well, God, it’s much worse than that now. Much.”

He paused for a bit, collecting his thoughts. “They say You know a person’s heart. That means You know I’ve always believed in you. I just started believing that You don’t care about what goes on down here. I think that came from all the bad I’ve seen. So many bad people doing really bad things.”

Morgan frowned. I didn’t come here to make excuses. What’s in my heart? 

“I mean, You watched my parents drag me here every Sunday, kicking and screaming. Please tell them hello and I’m sorry, by the way. Anyhow, it wasn’t that I didn’t want to come to church. It was that I didn’t like to be forced. That never worked well for me in any matter.”  

Morgan let out a long sigh. “I know I don’t deserve it in any way, shape, or form, but I have to ask for a favor from You. It’s a big one.”

Morgan shifted his weight from one knee to the other. 

“See I’m about to have a child. And selfishly, I really want to be there for that kid. If You could find it in Yourself to grant me one miracle and get me out of this mess, I’d be so grateful. I’m not going to make any crazy promises, like I’m not going to Fuc. . . ah . . . screw up anymore, because we both know me. Let’s not kid ourselves by sugar coating it. I’m gonna screw up plenty more in my life. So please, I’m begging You. A little help here? Not because You have to, but because You can. Okay, I’ve said my piece. Amen."

He rose, having surprised himself. Not that he had prayed, or that he had been so honest. Or even that he had begged for help. No, he was surprised to see that his eyes were flowing with tears.  

Now that Morgan had spoken with God, he needed to visit someone a bit less holy. He needed to see Kelly.  
 

Character/Suspect List: 

Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.  

Kelly Pierson - a young, new to the game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan. 

Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician who is Debra's identical twin.

Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper.

Homicide Detective Hutch Kelly - Morgan’s partner. 

Captain Howitz - Morgan’s boss who runs the Homicide Unit. 

Ronny Tate - Street cop who can't stand Morgan.

Darrin Belzar - Religious by-the-book street cop. 

Paco Sanchez - A local pimp and street thug.

Hugo Chavez - Paco's thug/bodyguard.

Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.

Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter. 

Ted 'Teddy' Norton - Morgan's old academy training officer. 

Steve Vance - Vicki's husband.

Vicki Vance - An old friend of Morgan and Debra’s. Murdered in her bar by the killer. 

Beth Mackie - A murdered prostitute. 

Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute. 

Amy Henderson - The second victim prostitute.

Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.