Bishop as Pawn Page 0,46

himself.”

“An extension …?”

“Yes. So many parishes like St. Gabriel in the inner city of Detroit have changed drastically, radically Mine, for example, used to serve a German community. You’d never guess that from the fairly cosmopolitan congregation we’ve got now.

“St. Gabriel’s was a working-class parish. Blue collar. Now it’s predominantly Latino. Ernie Bell has helped—no, he made that parish over to provide essential services to the Latino community. He is so involved in all that goes on in that parish, that the parish has become, in a very real way, that extension of himself.”

“So, if they closed it …?”

“They would, in effect, be taking a part of him away.”

“And what would happen to the people he took care of?”

Koesler shrugged. “In all likelihood, they’d be encouraged to attend and get their help from Holy Redeemer parish. It’s about a mile east of Gabriel’s and it’s mammoth.”

“So, why should Bell be so torn up? It’s not like his folks wouldn’t be helped.”

Koesler smiled sadly. “That’s the way the Chancery would look at it. The people in charge downtown would claim that nobody was being abandoned. That the priest shortage is forcing a consolidation. But past practice says that it wouldn’t be that neat.

“Lots of Gabriel’s parishioners are elderly, and many of them speak only Spanish. Many of them would be lost. They wouldn’t understand. They would feel themselves truly abandoned. They couldn’t grasp that they were expected to affiliate with a different parish—even if some transportation were provided. They would almost barricade themselves in their homes. Many would go hungry, get sick. It’s not unlikely some would die.

“And the ones who made a successful transfer to Redeemer? Well, there’s no doubt that Redeemer is a monster parish. But it’s up to its ears taking care of its own. I doubt even Redeemer could take the influx without cutting back its service to its own, let alone everyone who came from Gabriel’s.

“That, you see, is how Ernie Bell looks at it. He’s seen it happen to others and he knows what to expect.”

Tully toyed with an ashtray that was going unused. “And you: Do you agree with Bell’s evaluation?”

“Yes,” Koesler said without hesitation.

“This threat to close the parish came from the late bishop,” Tully said. “The way I got it, the bishop was responding to a threat from Bell to show him up for what he was—a greedy, ambitious manipulator. To me, it sounds like an idle threat. What could Bell do to Diego?”

Koesler leaned back, seeming to envision what Father Bell might cause to happen. “Innuendo comes to mind. Innuendo and the news media. Find some enterprising journalist—maybe the National Catholic Reporter or the News or the Free Press, and intimate what, on the one hand, is expected of Bishop Diego and, on the other, what he was doing, who his constant companions were. How much his people needed him and how little he gave.

“It wouldn’t be that difficult to drop names of some of the wealthiest Catholics around and how tight they were with the bishop. Offer interpretation of what was happening and what the bishop’s goals were. That should get the ball nicely rolling.”

“And what would that accomplish?” Tully asked. “What trouble could that cause?”

“It could—and it very likely would—cement Bishop Diego right here as an auxiliary bishop for the rest of his life. And that could be like purgatory—if you understood purgatory as just like hell only limited to a certain period of time.”

“Why? Why would that force him to stay here?”

“Rome makes the final judgment when it comes to bishops—who becomes a bishop and where they all go. And one of the last things Rome wants is a bishop tainted by controversy.

“It’s sort of like the first two nominations President Clinton made for attorney general. The first had broken a law in hiring illegal aliens. The second had done the same thing before the practice had been a law.

“The idea was, there should be not even a hint of a scandal or any impropriety. Which would have been the case with Bishop Diego if it had become common knowledge that he sought power by any means necessary—making friends of powerful and wealthy people while neglecting the ones who were obviously in desperate need of him.

“Most Catholics in other dioceses would not want such a bishop. And, with this in mind, Rome would not want to send him. He’d be mired here in Detroit with few responsibilities and practically no power.

“So you see, both threats could have been