Ch.37 Going Deeper

Refugee Encampment and Military Command Los Angeles rear area, somewhere outside LA

It had taken Father Alexander a few days to find the information he sought but it had been worth it. Though Child Protection Services still existed on paper the reality was with Los Angeles still under military authority that had become the avenue of enforcement. Those social workers left from the county department had been working solely thus far of trying to reunite families or find places for the hundreds of children orphaned in the war.

The priest had also found out that a number of clergy had been seconded to the agency to help out with the effort of restoration. It seemed that bureaucracy had given way to practicality. Of course bureaucracy still ruled, even in a war, and so it had taken him several meetings to find all this information out. Records were spotty and so much was being re-created. But finally the priest had found a willing, and sympathetic ear, to discuss what was going on with Hector.

The middle-aged female social worker's dull expression had darkened when she'd heard of the alleged abuse of the orphan. The woman gave him some contacts in the 185th Military Police Battalion which had been helping her team and in the end he'd been deputized to work as an adjunct of the agency. In fact the woman had been eager to have his offered help since they were so swamped. His first assignment then was to investigate the report about Hector Rincon and his aunt Maria. The place they lived was easier to find then working through the bureaucracy of the LA Child Protection Services so he'd been able to find their small home with a minimum of effort.

The priest had decided on the direct approach so went mid-morning to the home to talk to the woman and Hector. He knocked on the door and a severe-faced Latino woman with her hair pulled back in a tight bun answered the door.

"Si, what do you want?" she asked sharply but then her eyes adjusted to the morning sun streaming through the open door to see the priest standing before her. "Oh, Padre, forgive me. Are you here to bless my home?" she asked.

"No, my name is Father Alexander McNair and actually I'm here to talk to you about Hector," he responded. "May I come in?"

"No, you cannot," she responded, the edge returning to her voice. "We are very busy. Perhaps another time.

"I must insist on speaking to you and I'd also like to see him as well," the priest pressed. "I'm not here representing the church but rather as an agent of Los Angeles County Child Services."

"What is this about?" the woman stood belligerently blocking the doorway, her voice rising.

"I think it would be best if we talked inside," he gestured with his head towards several neighbors who were taking an interest in the conversation. "But we will talk about this, one way or the other."

"Si, very well," she said with a tone of resignation, stepping aside to allow the priest to enter.

They went into a sparsely furnished but clean living room. The observant man scanned the room and noticed no family pictures or any other signs of family connections. Other then a large wooden crucifix hanging on the wall there were no decorations.

Father Alexander tried to make small talk to break the ice but the woman was tight lipped so he decided to get straight to the point. "Ma'am, I'm here to ensure the welfare of Hector and make sure he's being properly looked after. There have been allegations that perhaps things are not going well here."

"That is nonsense! Who would say such lies?" she demanded. "I am his aunt, his only family. I know what's best for him, no one else. Who is saying these things?"

"That doesn't really matter. What matters is the welfare of the boy. So is there any other of his family members in the area that you know of?"

"No, I am his aunt," she emphasized though strangely, "and there is no one else interested in looking after the boy."

"And you make him work?" the priest began to probe.

"Si, work is good for boys. He needs to help provide," she shot back.

"Yet you're living in a military refugee camp," Alexander replied. "Most of your needs are being provided already. What could a boy his age possibly contribute?"

"That is my business, Father, not yours. I am his relation."

Though he found the woman abrasive there was something evasive in her, something she seemed to be hiding, so he decided to play a hunch. "Ma'am, can you tell me the exact nature of your relationship with Hector's father."

"What do you mean by that?" she huffed, "I am his aunt."

"So Joe Rincon was your blood brother?" She saw the woman's eyes flare in fear.

"Well, yes, of course, he was," she responded but without the same bluster previously.

"And can you prove this?" the priest pressed in, beginning to become more suspicious.

"We...we were brother and sister by marriage," she stammered, "in a manner of speaking."

"What exactly do you mean by 'in a manner of speaking'? And don't lie to a priest," he pressed, becoming exasperated by the woman.

"My mother and his father were never formally married," she crossed herself as she turned red with embarrassment.

"Thank you for sharing that," he affirmed but mentally noted she used the last name Rincon. "I'd like to talk to Hector now if I could."

"You can't…he's…he's not here."

A sound of movement in the kitchen betrayed the lie she'd just told.

"Then you won't mind if I see for myself." Father Alexander moved for the door before the woman could block his way. Passing through he found a Latino boy he knew immediately to be the one he sought.

"Hello Hector," the priest greeted the lad.

"Who are you?" Hector asked, a bit frightened when he saw his aunt appear over the man's shoulder.

"A friend. Someone you can talk to. My name is Alexander McNair."

"I know you! You're Gunny Nantz's friend."

"You're right." Then looking at the boy's aunt he said firmly, "I want to talk to him alone. You can wait for me in the other room."

"What are you doing here?" Hector asked, unsure what was going on.

"I'm here to see how you're doing and if there's any way I can help you," the priest responded kindly.

"I'm fine," the boy responded sullenly, dropping his eyes down to the floor.

"Gunny Nantz is concerned about you. He wanted to see if there was any way he could help you."

"No one can help me," Hector whispered, tears filling his eyes.

"God can help you if you ask."

"I have. It didn't work."

"I'm here aren't I?" the priest responded with a twinkle in his eyes.

Hector seemed surprised by the statement and paused to think about it. "How can you help me?"

"I need to know what's going on," Father Alexander asked.

"Nothing, everything's fine," the boy responded with a note of fear.

"Raise your shirt."

"No…I…ah….can't," Hector answered with a note of panic.

"It's okay. I can help you."

The boy reluctantly began to comply but not before looking in fear at the closed door. Father Alexander figured the woman was listening at the door but that didn't matter. Hector raised his shirt and turned sideways revealing ugly purple welts on his back. Some looked to be healing with time but a trio of fresh ones were obvious.

"I can explain…" the boy said woodenly.

"There's no need to say anything," the priest replied compassionately to save the anguished boy. But inside the priest seethed with anger at the obvious signs of abuse. "You don't need to say anything more Hector. I know what's going on and I'm going to help you. Give me some time and I will get you out of this situation."

Tears flowed out of the boy's deep brown eyes and he spontaneously hugged the priest at the declaration. "Gracias, thank you," he whispered, melting the priest's heart.

"You wait here. I need to speak to Ms. Rincon."

He walked decisively through the door and caught the woman backing up away from it. Good, he thought, she knows what's coming. "Ma'am I'm going to be straight with you. I suspect you've been abusing this boy and its going to stop right now. I will be monitoring this situation from now on and if there are any fresh marks or a hint this is continuing I will have you arrested. And this will be by the Military Police who don't take kindly to this kind of thing. So I suggest you think and pray hard about this situation because things are about to change. You got that?"

"Si," the woman replied dejectedly, knowing the truth had come out and she had no leg to stand on.

"Good. I'm leaving now but I will be back soon and I will be watching. God help you for what you've done."

With that he checked in on Hector and left the house to make his report and begin the next phase of a plan that had begun formulating in his mind.

Area Command Headquarters Logistics and Supply Area, Los Angeles Theatre of Operations

It wasn't even 11am and Mike was already bored. Despite a hangover from the previous night at the Inferno he'd reported as ordered to the supply company he'd been reassigned to three hours earlier. He'd met the CO and been given his assignment-ensuring quality control and timely distribution of resupply to the 40th Infantry Division. Sitting alone on a crate in a warehouse he snorted to himself. Quality control at a time like this? To him all that mattered was the right stuff got to the right people at the right time. What it looked like and how it was stacked was not very important.

It was a total make-work project.

The sour-faced Army Major who managed the building he'd been assigned to had a thin mustache and seemed to constantly be fidgeting, like he had a nervous condition. Mike could get used to that but he could already tell the man was a micro-manager and wanted things done a certain way. It hardly seemed necessary. The 40th had been so banged up over the course of the war they were in a support role, plugging gaps as they came, so had little need for rapid resupply being off the main line. But that had no impact on the Major. He had his schedule, flowcharts and models. What happened on the front had no impact on his priorities. He was totally G-4, all logistics, that was his world and his passion.

To each their own, Mike thought. Still, it gave him time to think. The previous night was a bit of a blur. His disappointment at not even being considered for the front had led him to taking Libby's offer to go out. Sure, she'd looked hot and that had helped but more importantly he was mad at what was happening to him so wanted to act out and throw a bit of a tantrum. He wanted to prove he was his own man so acted foolishly but it made no difference. He was still sitting on a crate and still had personal problems.

He had nothing against logistics. He knew how important timely supply was. It just wasn't his calling. Still, it was no excuse for how he'd acted when he'd been posted here. Libby had been at the right spot at the right time and had been a welcome harbor. Then there was that dress. Mike chided himself though for allowing his frustration and anger to get the better of him. He needed to start acting like a soldier and not a spoiled school boy despite how he felt.

Then there was Michele.

Her showing up at the Inferno had been a total shock and had enraged Libby. But the concern Michele had shown for him had touched him deeply. Libby wanted something from him and in some ways he wasn't unwilling to give it, but with Michele, there seemed to be something more-concern for him rather then herself.

Certainly Libby's reaction after Michele left showed where her loyalty lay. The attractive nurse had alternatively sulked and raged at him for the next hour for how he'd talked to Michele. He knew the two didn't get along but the hatred Libby had towards her rival was a bit unsettling and he began to wonder if that was driving some of her actions. But did it really matter? This was not a contest and he certainly was no prize. Yet Michele had gone well outside her comfort zone, into enemy territory in some ways to see if he was okay and to express her feelings for him unprompted. That showed a depth of character Mike had to stop to consider.

As the fog of Jack Daniels began to clear, like the sun burning off the early morning haze, some things became clearer to Mike Nantz. He needed to find Michele and they needed to talk, really talk because something had become clear in his mind. He was about to make a decision when a voice echoed in the warehouse he sat musing in.

"Michael? Are you in there?"

It was Father Alexander.

"Yes, I'm here. I'll come to you," he called back.

Mike walked briskly to the roll-down door entrance and vigorously shook the hand of the priest. "It's good to see you sir. How have you been?"

"Good. Busy on a project I want to talk to you about but good," the priest responded happily. Then, as if he'd connected some dots, his face clouded and he asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I've been transferred to G-4 Supply Logistics."

"I thought you were in the training cell."

"No, that got shut down with the squid's new push," Mike confirmed. "Everyone got sent to the front so there was no need for a training group at this point."

"Everyone but you," the observant priest declared, probing for a reaction. "You okay with that?"

Mike shrugged his shoulders. "It is what it is. I wasn't at first but I've had some time to think about it. You know I want back in combat but it's just not to be."

The priest pondered the statement and his face brightened. "Perhaps the Lord is working in this and its part of his plan because if you had been at the front I couldn't tell you what I've discovered."

"What do you mean?" Mike asked, his curiosity peaked since he hadn't considered his situation as anything other then a disaster. He also then realized he'd not be in the position to talk to Michele either. "Small blessings," he whispered.

"Pardon?" Father Alexander asked, not hearing him.

"Nothing. So what's up?"

"I checked into the situation with Hector and even met with the boy and his aunt. Or I should say his alleged aunt."

"What do you mean?" Mike shot back in surprise.

"Her relationship to him is arm's length in a way. I'm not certain her claim to be his aunt would stand up to close scrutiny."

"But she's acted so confidently about that," Mike responded, stunned by the news. "She's also been so pushy about it. How could she be like that?"

"While these are desperate times," the priest mused, "they're also times that people can exploit for their own gain. With civil authority non-existent and people focused on the war domestic matters like these fall off the radar screen. Sadly, I would imagine there's lots of stuff falling between the cracks."

Mike couldn't believe what he was hearing and even more so that someone would be so self-centered they would take advantage of a child in this situation. His blood began to boil. "So what about the abuse then?"

"I checked myself and have pretty firm suspicions its happening. I confronted her about it and think I put the fear of God, literally and figuratively, into her," Father Alexander reported. "So I suspect Hector will be safe for the time being. But, people like that tend to slip back into their own patterns if things are allowed to go on for too long."

"So what can be done to save Hector from this?" Mike asked.

"He needs to be removed from that situation."

"How could that happen though?" Mike asked. "He'd need somewhere to live right? Someone would have to look after him."

"Well, that is the point," Father Alexander agreed. "So if someone were willing to step forward and become Hector's guardian, or better yet, be willing to adopt, he could be freed from the situation."

It took a second for the light to go on for Mike. "Whoa! Wait a second. I can't…"

"Why not? You care for the lad and he clearly loves you," the priest pointed out. "Who better then you?"

"Yes, but there's more to it then that," Mike held up his hands in protest. "There's commitment and a need for stability for the boy. There's…"

"All things you've told me you've desired in your life Michael," Father Alexander stated quietly. "What better incentive to finally step up and do it then this?"

"Okay, but besides, you don't just decide to do something like that and do it," Mike countered. "There's a process, children services and stuff. This is a court thing, and she's family. You can't fight that."

"Process is easy and I can walk you through it. She's distant family and her claim is pretty sketchy. And remember, LA is under military authority so that means things like this are handled by the JAG, not civilian courts."

Sure, but how will the Judge Advocate look at that any differently?" Mike asked, feeling as if the walls were closing in. "They follow the same set of rules don't they?"

The priest smiled.

"You've looked into that already, haven't you?" Mike declared, shaking his head at the thoroughness of the priest.

"I have. There's only one other thing that would strengthen the case to help free the boy from this horrible situation."

"Yea, what's that?" Mike asked suspiciously.

"How are things with you and Michele, by the way?" Father Alexander asked instead, his grin breaking into a warm smile.