Category Archives: Mafia

Going to Guadalupe? Pay the Mexican Military Cartel cash or die. It’s that bad.

ak 47 ammo

We had a wedding last Saturday in the parish. The couple went to Mexico for their honeymoon. They reported back that there are now military checkpoints everywhere in Mexico. They don’t ask for documents or other useless rubbish. They want money, only. If you refuse, they let you go, but they call ahead to inform the drug cartel in whatever area that you refuse to donate to their cause. The cartel stops you, and simply kills you as an example for others. This makes me upset inasmuch as my identity was used for arms transfers to the Sinaloa Cartel just when Joaquín “El Chapo” Archivaldo Guzmán Loera (now imprisoned along with his “godson”) started to terrorize innocent civilians, the government, the politicians, law enforcement and, finally, the Church.

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Filed under Drugs, Guns, Intelligence Community, Mafia, Military, Politics, Road danger

Excommunication of Mafia by secular courts? What’s this about? Anecdotes…

MAFIA OMERTA

“Hello Fr. George: I had a doubt if excommunication of mafia is also extended to those co- cooperating directly or indirectly by running  illicit businesses like gambling dens and bootlegging. — With prayers [Priest friend from India]”

We’ll have to see the language, which I imagine will be quite filled with legalese. As it is, more than fifty prosecutors, bishops, United Nations representatives and victims of organized crime have just tried to come up with a new legal doctrine concerning “the question of excommunication for corruption and mafia association.” “New” is right.

The novelty in this is that Pope Francis is seriously thinking of moving forward on entirely handing the Church’s own judicial processes of imposing excommunication over to the State regarding the Mafia, so that the opinion of the State as to the guilt of someone in, say, racketeering (a conviction), is what effectively imposes and declares the excommunication. Or is there to be an “administrative process” in some Vatican “Pontifical Council for the Excommunication of the Mafia” whereby the poor fellow has his State conviction rubber stamped by some Vatican office worker? What a sick joke against both justice and mercy. This seems to be insanity, real evil, putting the fox in charge of the hen house.

mafia

The State is often the enemy of the Church in various countries. What do you do if you are a kind of Henry VIII and you have a troublesome cleric like John Fisher or a troublesome Chancellor like Thomas More? Just trump up charges of racketeering and the poor fellows will be not only be convicted by the State but also excommunicated by the Church based solely on that secular conviction. It’s no longer Saint John Fisher but damned John Fisher. It’s no longer Saint Thomas More but damned Thomas More. The Church would no longer has any voice in the public square with this kind of pressure for ecclesiastics to be sycophants of the State. The U.S. Department of State is having a celebration, along with so many governments in other countries.

But there are so many insurmountable problems that I doubt Pope Francis will be successful in moving forward with this kind of legislation for State sponsored Catholic excommunication, this delegation of investigation, prosecution, conviction and sentencing to the State. If he is successful, I can only imagine the immediate wholesale convictions of racketeering followed by death sentences for church leaders in countries that are terribly annoyed with the Catholic Church (and there are many which are just that violent). And what’s the Church to do if all those church leaders are also said to be excommunicated?

Some important personal anecdotes:

(1) For quite a long time I lived in the same house as the head legal liaison between the Italian Department of Defense (Ministero della difesa) and the Holy See. He approached me with the request that I agree that he might arrange an assignment for me as pastor in a parish in Southern Italy so that he might better deal with the Mafia in that region, my anti-Mafia activities apparently being known to some. I knew exactly where he was going in the conversation and got him to admit easily enough that his purpose was to go ahead and put listening devices in my confessional box so that they might have evidence to convict whatever mafia went to confession. The Mafia do go to confession, but not with the purpose of being forgiven, but so as to shut the priest up, for the priest would then feel obliged by the seal of confession even if he otherwise heard the information outside of confession as well. This liaison was quite blunt about this, quite open, even telling me the procedures they use to set this already well established policy into practice. This happens all the time. In these USA the FBI has done this numerous times in Saint Patrick’s Cathedral in New York. I asked him what would happen if I actually did my bit as a priest and did not give the mafia guy absolution, but told him to get his wife and kids and skip the country taking nothing with him so as to get out of the mafia altogether and then get absolution elsewhere. The response was that I would, of course, be shot right through the confessional screen. Of course. I declined. He was upset as he had revealed much about the level of respect Italy has for the Church (and me): none whatsoever.

(2) A good “friend”, one of the very top anti-Mafia investigators in Italy for DIA (Direzione Investigativa Antimafia) wanted me to spy for him on who else but the Cardinals who are resident in Rome. He was offering me all sorts of favors toward this end, even putting local law enforcement at my beck and call, regardless of how long I might take them away from their duties. The thing is, I did know very well and have been in the houses and various main offices and back offices and off to the side offices of many of the Cardinals. I declined. He was upset as he had revealed much about the level of respect Italy has for the Church (and me): None whatsoever.

(3) A bishop in southern Italy, a close friend with no fear in publicly and continuously denouncing the mafia in his diocese, was threatened with death numerous times to no effect. Finally the mafia, in this case the ‘Ndrangheta, got a hold of the Pontifical Family to pass along the message that if the bishop was not moved by the next morning he would certainly be found dead. He was moved to another diocese that very night. In other words, the church revealed that it will not back up the pastoral initiatives of those who stand up against the mafia, but will just do the expedient thing, showing what respect there is for actual courage: none whatsoever.

(4) A mafia priest, a pastor in a large parish in the western region of Rome, has constant contacts with the Pontifical Family, making personal visits. He’s got many of the big political mafia bosses in his parish. They are taken care of very well by the parish, favored members of the parish. What does that say? (I did try to do something about this at one time. Response? None whatsoever that I know about.)

(5) My own case worker (let’s call him J.J. for short) in the U.S. Department of State surely has everything to do with this legal conference of Pope Francis and is likely the instigator and provider of legal language for much of it. He has everything to do with the law, with the United Nations, with the Hague, with this kind of legal maneuvering by teams for or against individuals on an international level in such manner that international relations between countries are affected. I smell a rat in all this. There is a difference between the Holy See and the Vatican, a difference which, if not protected, will bring damage to Vatican City State fairly quickly. This conflation of prosecution of the Mafia by Church and State could well be a precedent. This effort has been going on for many years in many ways also by way of powerful ecclesiastical figures who bow down to those at the United Nations and other diplomatic / legal organs… Maybe the legalese will provide a way out of this conflation. Maybe not. We will see. What are the tangible benefits? None whatsoever that I can figure out. Everything can go wrong; nothing and no one is better off with this sort of action. Quite literally this would set up the Holy See / Vatican City State for extortion by the U.S. State Department, forcing what the DoS would call “policy” decisions, or assignments of bishops, or whatever. Not a good position to be in.

(6) A little test of all this before any promulgation of any decree by Pope Francis might well be in order. What I have in mind is to […].

(7)  I should mention the Archdiocese of Malta, where C.S. resides, and also the little town of Salem, New Hampshire, USA, where E.A., “thick as thieves” with C.S., is continuing to serve out his prison sentence…

Et cetera

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Filed under Holy See, Mafia, Missionaries of Mercy, Pope Francis

Excommunicating the Mafia – part 2 – Missionaries of Mercy to absolve?

You have heard that it was said that Pope Francis is intent on excommunicating the mafia, you know, more officially than did Pope John Paul II back in 1982. You can see how scared Marini was in back of him, surely thinking they were going to get shot on the spot. As it is, the mafia was killing priests, threatening the Cardinal of Palermo, executing judges, and doing all their horrible protection rackets, prostitution, drugs. At the time, at least in the Archdiocese of New York, it was forbidden to provide the sacraments or funerals to the mafia. Now, I don’t know. Perhaps it wasn’t “officially” done by JPII and Francis wants to make it more “official.” There are plenty of mafia priests around, especially in Italy, but elsewhere as well, certainly in these USA.

Maybe Pope Francis will make the excommunication something only the Holy See or Missionaries of Mercy can take away. We will see. I have some stories to tell along those lines which involve the Italian Military and the Holy See, with me right in the middle of the whole thing. Perhaps this is what inspired the brain-stormers, you know: “Let the Missionaries of Mercy be put on the spot.” Fine. Whatever.

It is imperative that a bit of thought goes into advice for those absolving such things. I would not recommend that any priest be allowed to do this. I recommend that the possibilities for absolution are made known at the same time as the excommunication, which is supposed to be medicinal, right?

Unless things have radically changed in Rome over the past number of years in regard to the mafia, I would guess that no one has a clue what the political maneuvering is really like. I will try to write more on this, also to Archbishop Fisichella (my boss in this matter) and Pope Francis.

Perhaps it might be thought that my little parish is out of the way and inconsequential in this matter, but, in fact, it is because it is perhaps the most remote place in these USA that the mafia is to be found in abundance, along with, unknown to each other, those in witness protection.

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Filed under Confession, John Paul II, Mafia, Missionaries of Mercy, Pope Francis

Meth-heads gift my parish a hacked up donkey. Such violence! My response.

venison

This is what I saw when I drove up to the church parking lot this morning. So, this happened just last night, perhaps very early on January 13.

These chunks of carcass, two back-ends and a back-strap, look like they come from a donkey (in which case I would take great personal offence), but are most likely from a field dressed deer, with the hunter using a chainsaw or ax in order to hack it to pieces. It’s not a pig as pig meat is very light in color. A few things…

  • The pieces of carcass are posed nicely, placed, not simply dumped, which is pretty insane, kind of like someone whose brain is fried by heavy-metal meth.
  • The pieces of carcass were situated in the exact center-center of the lower parking lot even though there is everywhere else (right there) to throw these into the woods or a ditch, so this is also pretty insane, kind of like someone whose brain is fried by heavy-metal meth.
  • I’ve run across this phenomenon before here in Andrews, NC, when we were looking for a rectory. One family seemed to be living in a meth-lab and there was a stench coming from the kitchen. Someone opened the fridge door and the rotten-meat smell went right through the house. Kind of insane, like someone whose brain is fried by heavy-metal meth.
  • The most logical explanation for this insanity is that a local meth lab has started up using our parking lot again at night. This will be the third one. Someone who wanted drugs but had no money was bringing payment in kind, hacking up their donkey (or a deer) for this end. But the meth-lab owner rejected the offering, which was already rotting as happens for meth-heads (see above). It really was pretty rank, with the smell staying in my nostrils for hours and Laudie-dog smelling this on me many hours later. Anyway, when asked what to do with the rejected carcass, the customer was told to place the remains in the parking lot as a gift for the church, thinking that this was a nice gesture on their part – no, really! – hence the pieces being placed nicely and not at all just thrown down or thrown away.

But what do I know? Nothing. And because of that, I was instantly reminded of this horse head scene from the original “Godfather” movie! If you have a weak constitution, don’t watch this 90 second clip, as it’s rather like the picture above…

Perhaps there are some readers who think Laudie-dog would have loved to eat that dead donkey (or deer), but I won’t give it to her, the reason being that I’m quite sure this is all meth-head related, and could be from the meth-lab itself, meaning that the meat is saturated with heavy metals, all very unhealthy. No, it was all tossed away appropriately.

All this brings back questions of evangelization. It’s all for Jesus. This donkey says: It’s all for Jesus.

donkey blessed sacrament

GEORGE DAVID BYERS - COAT OF ARMS - revision

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Filed under Donkeys, Drugs, Mafia

Brazen R & R before the mafia. I love it. Perhaps this priest has too much fun.

rest-and-recreation

Yesterday I had some free time to do some family visitation. “Let’s go out on the pontoon boat!” said the great Army veteran. “Great!” said I. So, away we went round about along far distant fantastic shorelines typical of these mountain waters. Just because we are in the mountains doesn’t mean that there isn’t more shoreline than most of the rest of North America. Think reservoirs and dams, the watershed of the entire South-East. Really, really nice. Lots of big money.

He said, “Most likely retired CEOs of major corporations.” I said, “Most likely the mafia.” Oh my, the stories I then heard. My response was, “People have been murdered for a lot, lot less trouble than they are making, and if they haven’t been in any accidents, then it must be that they are mafia. There’s no other way.” I know some mafia, and plenty of Italy’s anti-mafiosi. It’s all so typical. And while that is part of the world in which I moved about in previous lives, I guess I just didn’t want to see it here. It’s too beautiful here. I want to stay here, but I didn’t want this kind of thing around here. And now I’m getting to know why some of the locals don’t like “all those foreigners” coming into the county, with “foreigners” referring to people who have lived here even 50 years but who weren’t born here, but instead were born outside of the county, perhaps just the next county over. But, it makes life interesting. And it’s good to know who you are dealing with. It answers some questions.

For my part, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. In fact, I think I have too much fun as a priest, especially these last three years in this parish. I’ve often told the bishop over these last few years that I wish I could stay here until I die, but for this past eight months or so he’s started saying things like, “You’re not going to stay in that parish forever you know.” But, that’s O.K. I love everything about the Church, every possible apostolate, all the people, including the mafia of whatever kind. After all, Jesus loved them to death, right? We must be in anguish until as many as possible are on their way to heaven, knowing and living with the goodness and kindness and truth of Jesus, Divine Son of the Immaculate Conception, who will come to judge the living and the dead and the world by fire. Amen.

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(4) Father Byers at 12 years old: world-class kiddie-porn star

north junior high school

The necessary preface: this series of articles is written with specific people in mind, the string pullers and those who manipulate them, those who are one and two steps beyond the corruption mentioned by Pope Francis, those who are lost to a corruption of the corrupt, and beyond that, are brought into a kind of tangible evil. It is evident that these articles make their way into the hands of some few of this targeted group. The purpose is to offer them forgiveness, even after all that will be related here about those much more insignificant in the scheme of things than they are themselves. After all, those who are more important, the string pullers and their manipulators, take on the guilt of everything that goes on under their influence. I hope that thought puts the fear of God in them, and that they repent, for the Immaculate Conception’s Divine Son, Christ our God, will come to judge the living and the dead and the world by fire. Here’s a list of the preceding posts in this short series:

pinocchio stringsRight away I have to say that the title of this post is misleading, the bit about kiddie-porn, for this is about the filming of young and naked teenage boys evidently for the use of older homosexual men. But I’ll leave the title as it is for the sake of the main stream media mentality we have in this world, which calls even the abuse of adults “pedophilia” with the malicious intent of not ever speaking about the stats regarding abuse, that it is largely homosexual, that is, involving (post)pubescent young men. That would interfere with certain aspects of social engineering, of certain aspects bringing about a persecution of the Church. That social engineering is itself a symptom of the crisis of the identity of men after the total rejection of their fatherhood by society and by so very many in the Church as contraception and abortion and self-abuse and porn and homosexuality were condoned by the so-called pastórally minded among the clergy and episcopacy of the 1960s and 1970s. But then, as I say, then there are the ones I’m aiming this series at, that is, a certain class among them, a group which has learned to pull the strings on a global level, involving manipulators even more interested in money and power than they are. They are really quite few in number.

just me climbing treeAnyway, the swimming pool at North Junior High School would be a source of trouble time and again. When I was eight and nine years old, the older neighborhood kids were saying that swimming trunks were not allowed by the gym teacher. Everyone had to swim, and swim naked, saying that this had already been going on for some years. I would soon be towards the end of my twelfth year of age, and would be attending there myself. Many schools were starting to do this I was told, so no adult questioned it in what was now a Woodstock society. But don’t be fooled, all the kids hated it, at least at the beginning. They thought that the instructor was going after the boys. But I thought that I could handle myself, and there was no question that I had to go to school, and to that particular school. When the time came, I did go.

camera reel to reelWhat I found, at twelve years of age, was that the teacher’s office, with its large bay window overlooking the locker room, was always jam-packed with naked boys, whom he seemed to be totally ignoring. But then I saw a very expensive movie camera – very professional looking – set up on a large tripod facing the bay window from the locker room, with its on-air light lit up. He was filming the whole thing. The boys, so eager to be around him, were part of a “secret club” that – as one boy told me as if I were entirely stupid – could only be opened up to membership by the gym teacher himself.
Poor kids. They fell for what they thought was the excitement of immodesty and the sense of belonging to a group. I was disgusted by the kind of spirit that seemed to have blinded them to all but a tiny set of arrogant, self-centered emotions, which were lit up so brightly in them that they were blind to everything else, having no agility of spirit whatsoever. They were like deer willingly mesmerized by their own headlights, being shot down by an unscrupulous hunter. I knew that something was terribly wrong with all this, and was taken aback by the very public nature of it. It was the old trick of flaunting it like its normal so that people will think that it is normal. It worked in society then just as it does today. Some few of the kids didn’t fall for it. Neither did I. But what could a little kid do back in those days, so very different from today? Of course, there will be those who blame me for the whole thing. There’s nothing I can do about that. I thing those perpetrating the crimes should be the ones to be blamed, not the kids. Just my opinion.

studio camera 1960sI could try to avoid that camera. But the cameras were everywhere. There were more cameras throughout the locker room, with heavy cables all over the floor. There were cameras in the open room showers, and out in the pool area. There were very large movie cameras, Hollywood cameras I would call them, up in the empty swim-meet bleachers high above the pool, lights blinking away, another in an open storage room at the end of the pool next to the locker room door, and, it seems, below, inside the underwater window at the deep end of the pool. A mafia operation with the school being paid off to turn a blind eye? I think so. The gym teacher made everyone march around naked, sit in certain areas facing certain ways, sit in groups on the diving board, dive from the board in certain ways, and so on, like scripted scenes that would fit some sort of porno story. He even had us swim to the bottom of the deep end of the pool two at a time in order to fetch a block of heavy rubber matting, asking us to fight for it underwater. That’s where an underwater window was located.

just me 04He must have taken thousands of large reels of film over the years that this continued, from the mid-1960s into the mid-1970s. I can only guess that this was a fraction of the operation, another part of which was surely the “secret club” of the gym teacher’s naked boys. I can only guess that the fellow with the Cadillac Limousine mentioned in a previous article was financing all this. I can only guess that the school and police and the Feds had all been paid off to keep quiet. I can only guess that these films still make up by far the largest source of “kiddie-porn” still circulating among the perverted until this very day throughout the United States and around the world, with enough footage for millions of still photos, uncountable DVD’s, pay-per-views, and a multitude of internet formats. In other words…

just me 03I had been prostituting myself and didn’t even know it. I was a kiddie-porno star and surely I still am so today, with dirty old men doing unspeakable things while gaping at images of myself and all those other boys. It only hit home when it was too late. Abuse of minors is always abuse, because, no matter how worldly wise they are, or however much they think that they can take care of themselves (with me being in first place in that category), still, when one is going through a situation as a kid it really is hard to imagine the immense evil of some adults. Sure, I saw the cameras. Yes, I knew they were rolling. So did everyone else. But we just could not imagine for what reason. It just didn’t make any sense. None of us could fathom the depths of the evil at hand, and so mindlessly went along with it, especially because it all seemed condoned by the most trusted adults, the teacher and the school’s administration. I had told my parents about it. I think my dad tried to do something. But the power behind this operation seemed to be beyond anything he could do anything about.

pool lifeguard chairThere was some grumbling among the boys, but only one bit of real, though only momentary rebellion. The occasion for this was one boy being singled out. I felt so sorry for him, and angry and confused right along with him, as did we all. He was made to climb up an inordinately tall life-guard chair and stand there, naked, standing, the gym teacher insisted, with his hands to the side. This boy noticed the cameras up in the bleachers, and mentioned them, pointing to them. You could see the scars of hatred being seared into his heart, as if someone was dragging a dagger right through his chest, deeply, right through his very soul. Overwhelmed, he threatened to jump from the chair so that his head would hit the tile edge of the pool below, breaking his neck, smashing his skull open, killing himself. “No! Don’t do it!” we said. “No!” We just couldn’t believe what we were witnessing. We almost lost our voices. He didn’t jump, thanks be to God.

With that, the “game” was over for the day, even though there was still some twenty minutes left for this “class” in the school schedule. The gym teacher knew that if he didn’t let us go now, he himself was going to pay a heavy price. He let the boy climb down. I don’t know how the boy didn’t fall while climbing down, so much was he shaking with anger.

There was a big difference, thought I, between this gym teacher/kiddie-porno-film director, and my friend with the switch blade in an earlier post, though both may have had similar histories. I want to think my friend had remained with a shred of hope in his soul, even in his darkest moments, a hope which manifests the power of the grace of God in the midst of the hell some live through on this earth. The kiddie-porn director, instead, had chosen not to have any hope. It is how low the human soul can sink. But I will insist, even this kiddie-porn operation isn’t the lowest of the low. The Mafia isn’t the lowest of the low.

Sorry, but I insist: there are always others pulling the strings, and manipulating those who are pulling strings. Those are the ones I’m aiming this series at. And, yes, after all that, I tell them that mercy is theirs for the asking. No one can commit any sin which is so great that if one sincerely asked for forgiveness it could not be forgiven. Let this be a sign to you: I forgive you if you want that forgiveness. Don’t bring that offer with you to hell, which always comes sooner than later, much sooner than any time later. When you face all of eternity as you enter hell, you will know what I mean, and my words to you now will haunt you for eternity. Now’s the time to change your ways and go to Confession.

Now, having said all that, back to the more local culprits. I’m sure the statute of limitations has run out, or not? There are hundreds of witness to what I speak about here. So very many in the “secret club” of which I, however, was never a part. Would they know also of any murders, disappearances of kids? Time for them to come forward, but to what, if everyone was paid off, if this involves the big names in the Twin Cities and elsewhere? What I would like to hear is that huge stashes of kiddie-porn have been destroyed, with whole networks of abusers being brought down with all their servers brought down. That would be really cool.

Also, just to say, there were a number of kids in the area who went missing at that time. Open up those cases, my FBI friends, or are you afraid? Maybe I can kick-start the thing by writing a story for the local paper, and get a local reporter to interview whoever of the survivors of those years then comes forward to speak about it…

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Filed under Abuse, Father Byers Autobiography, Mafia

(3) Father Byers at 8 years old: Taking *The* Mafia Kiddie-Porn Godfather for a ride

cadillac limousine

This is one of those stories which requires one to say before beginning that no one else is ever to try this at home. What I did was stupid, though it seemed really smart to me at the time. The purpose of repeating this bit of the autobiography here is send a message to some people who pride themselves a bit in their lust for power in all their evil doing. They have a need to understand that there are certain people who will uncontrollably do stupid things, putting themselves into grave danger, truly having no fear because of having, at any rate, the idea that they can get their way out of any difficulty precisely because they have no fear that burdens them. They will do what they need to do. And they do it. I must say that what happened in this story was very formative of my own character, and terribly instructive to me as a little kid about the way politics work regarding abuse. Seeing the powerful become fearful (they are always fearful) was spectacular. Very important, this. Those for whom I am especially writing these articles should take note: No fear. Zero. Nada. Zilch. Give it up and convert. Go to Confession! For the other articles so far, see:

north junior high school

When I was just eight years old, I had made a habit of going swimming at the local Junior High School. The pool was opened up to younger kids like myself, at night. It was a pretty good hike to get there, three miles, at night. Bikes were impossible in Minnesota in February ice and snow, at night. I know. I tried many times when it was way below zero, at night. It’s a good extreme sport, but it really was faster just walking. No one from my neighborhood wanted to brave the hike. I was alone for that part. But there were plenty of kids to meet there. The trip was worth it for someone who could swim like a fish, and I was just such a one. I think I once did five lengths of the pool underwater without once coming up for breath. I was a bit of a show-off, looking for some competition in this way. Competition, if it’s just for the sheer idiocy of it, is always hilarious to those involved, and is its own reward. I found out that half-crippled legs didn’t matter so much in the water.

Also, I was used to the cold enough to know that when it’s below zero and one’s hair is still wet, the walk home will be cold only at the beginning. Wet hair freezes into a helmet as hard as rock, keeping one’s body heat insulated. I would let my hair freeze for a minute or so, and then put my hat on over that. Only I would do that, of course. But one has to know how to survive.

On my way home from a great swim, but on a particularly cold night, way below zero on the Fahrenheit scale, and with eyes seeing chlorine halos around every distant light, I noted that a very expensive looking black Cadillac Limousine started following me at my walking pace, about forty yards out. He had followed me a couple of other times, but from about 100 yards out. This narrowing of the range was creepy. I was on the road since the sidewalk had about a foot of snow cover. But now, to escape, I ran up the mountain of snow separating the road from the sidewalk, which was set back from the road about twenty feet. I walked along the sidewalk, to no avail. The car stayed exactly forty yards back. He knew what he was doing. I was just at a point where the sidewalk ended in front of a deep, culverted ditch that was being filled in with building demolition, parts of brick walls and great slabs of cement floors, with jagged metal I-beams that poked through the snow and ice with dark menace. I stared at this, imagining myself escaping along this impassable route, but being put off at the thought of freezing to death with a broken leg a half mile from the road, not to be found until the following Summer, if ever.

plowed snowI jumped back out on the road, right where my stalker would be able to grab me. Back in the day, there were no houses in any direction for about a half a mile along that stretch of road. The field next to me, blanketed with about three feet of snow, up to my chest at that time, stretched all the way to a forest about three miles away. It was pitch dark. I thought I was dead for sure.

And yet, if you can’t run, you can fight, even if you are only eight years old, as I had learned some months previously. I was braver than I was smart. I turned and walked straight to the car and, when offered a ride – just as I thought – I took it. This seemed stupid even to me, but it also seemed like the only option, and so, therefore, smart. I thought I was going to end up in the car one way or the other, but if I took the initiative, the psychological dynamics were such that I could have the upper hand, at least for a while, until I figured out a definitive escape. What a stupid eight-year old! But I was filled with adrenaline once again. And I had not forgotten the bit [mentioned in an earlier part of the autobiography] about letting people hang themselves if that’s what they wanted to do. I learned later on what our Lord did with Judas.

This fellow in the Cadillac Limousine was perhaps in his thirties, and may have been merely the driver for someone else somewhere else. His job for the evening was just to collect kids. At any rate, he knew his business; it was clear he had done this before. Today I would conjecture that his boss was the kiddie-porno king of the world, with no one equaling his volume of kiddie-porn even today. But, maybe he was the godfather. Those were different times. But I’ll get to that in the following article of this series. At any rate, this fellow interrogated me about exactly where I lived in town and then what my name was. When he heard the name, he asked me to repeat it, again and again. I told him, and said that my dad had been the mayor of the city (of 48,000 people at the time) and was now an attorney at law, and also worked at the State Legislature, and headed up the biggest law firm in central Minnesota. He asked me repeatedly if I was sure that was my father. Sure? I almost broke out laughing. But instead I also mentioned my uncle by name, since he was the chief emergency responder in the city. At that point, he stopped the car abruptly, right there on the icy street, far from anywhere, at night, way below freezing, commanding me to get out. I mocked him with a sing-song voice, saying he could meet my dad if he wanted to drive me the rest of the way. That wasn’t very intelligent on my part, but he sped away, thank God. I tried to get the license plate number, but it was too dark. I was dumb enough to be a bit too happy with myself, having gotten 1-1/2 miles closer to home in a nice car. I had no idea that I had been in most grave danger, out of which few come out alive.

I wonder how many youngsters’ lives he had destroyed and is still destroying. I wonder if my ever so troubled friend had been a victim of his. I told my parents right away, and my dad got on the phone immediately. I can only think that this fellow was run out of town for a while, but, in those days, I suppose, only that. The kiddie-porn operation was so massive that very many people had to have been paid off to look the other way.

Just when you think you’ve run into the ultimate evil, you find out there is something even worse. It would be a grave error to think that the politics of abuse, the string pulling behind the scenes, is simple. It’s not that it’s all so much more complex than money and the lust for power along with a perverted, inverted lust for lust. Instead, the difficulty comes in being put off by thinking that there can’t be anything more evil than what one has already found. But that judgment of the state of affairs does not then take into account the passion and death of the Son of God Incarnate. If He suffered like that, things really can be very, very evil. But that’s when we see Jesus’ mercy shining most brightly. O.K., so, my participation as a kid in kiddie-porn up next. Stay tuned.

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Filed under Abuse, Father Byers Autobiography, Mafia