The Simple Death by Michael Duffy

man named Brian Hughes, in his late thirties and an invalid pensioner due to the effects of this alleged abuse, and other abuse he’d received as a child. He’d approached Archbishop Patrick Walsh six months earlier with a complaint, the first time he’d told anyone in the Church. A lot of people thought a delay like that was suspicious, but Troy knew enough about child sexual assault to be aware it was not unusual. The complaint had been investigated, and two months later Walsh wrote to Hughes and said Father Carillo had denied the accusation and there was no evidence to support it. Therefore, the Church would not be paying compensation or referring the matter to the police. Hughes was free to talk to a lawyer about civil action or go to the police himself.
    Instead, he’d gone to the media.
    Troy said, ‘Do you know this guy?’
    â€˜Absolutely no memory. There were fifty boys, a week on the Colo River. Canoeing, abseiling, people coming and going. All I remember clearly is two of the other men stopping me from conducting boxing lessons. They didn’t want to encourage violence.’ Troy grunted, not wanting to get him started on this subject. Luke said, ‘Don’t get me started.’
    Hughes had been eleven then. He said Luke had taken him down a track to the river one night during dinner, removed his shorts and asked the boy to masturbate him. Hughes did as he was told and they returned to the campsite. That was it, maybe twenty minutes in a life. In two lives.
    â€˜I don’t know,’ Troy said. ‘In the order of things—’
    Luke snorted. ‘The order of things has changed,’ he said. Then, calming down, ‘I know blokes who’ve been abused. It can knock a life off course. None of us who haven’t been there can judge.’
    â€˜Has Hughes been in touch with you?’
    â€˜Never.’ He sniffed. ‘I called him, he hung up. Walsh told me not to try again.’
    â€˜Would you like me to look into it?’ He had no idea where he’d start or what he could do. But it was what he did, investigate things.
    â€˜No.’ The priest shook his head. ‘His Eminence told me they’ve got people handling it. The Church has a lot of experience with this sort of business.’ Said without irony.
    â€˜They’ve talked to the other priests who were there?’
    â€˜Two are dead, but yes, and some of the boys too. You know how it works. If there’s a case to be made, the Church will pass it over to Caesar.’ He smiled. ‘It might come your way.’
    Troy had never worked in Sex Crimes and never would. Some forms of badness he felt he could understand, but not this one. He scratched his cheek. ‘Did the archbishop tell you how long it would take?’
    â€˜The newspaper says it has more information it’s publishing next Sunday. They’ve refused to tell the Church what it is. Walsh thinks they might be hoping more witnesses will come forward during the week.’
    â€˜So, what’s he saying publicly?’
    â€˜Nothing, except the Church has already investigated the allegation and found insufficient evidence. It will reopen its inquiry if new evidence is produced.’
    â€˜He should stand by you,’ Troy said. ‘At least say you’re innocent.’
    â€˜He did that three years ago with Father Delaney.’
    Troy remembered: Walsh had defended one of his priests, even accompanying him to court, and the man had been found guilty of abusing a dozen boys. The archbishop had been savagely criticised for seeming to side with the abuser instead of the victims.
    â€˜You’ve got to see it from his point of view,’ said Luke.
    He sounded calm enough, but when Troy looked down at the priest’s hands he saw they were clutching the arms of his chair again, so hard the knuckles were white. He put out a hand and pressed Luke’s arm gently. After a few seconds he felt it