April 13, 2014
God Laughs—Delta Goodrem (4:09)
Murdoch Mysteries
Murdoch
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," he told the darkened interior of the confessional quietly. "It has been four days since my last confession."
The priest held back a sigh of exasperation. He knew William Murdoch's voice well and the man had an entirely too developed sense of right and wrong. William didn't think in shades of gray. "Go on, my son," he said in a comforting voice.
"I lied, Father," Murdoch said repressively. "I lied to a suspect and I don't feel bad about it. I gave him hope that he could use a plea of self-defense and then told my superior officer about evidence that would prove he killed a man in cold, premeditated murder."
The priest bit his lip to stifle a gasp of surprise. He would never have expected something that incendiary to come from William's mouth. This was unprecedented. "My son," he started and then stopped. What exactly was William looking for with this confession? Absolution? Justification? Forgiveness, certainly, but for what exactly? "My son, perhaps you should enlighten me a bit more."
"There was a woman," Murdoch explained slowly. "She was accused of murdering her husband. I just…I knew she was innocent. I proved it. But the only way for her to be set free was to find the real killer and have him confess. So I lead the suspect to believe that he could plead self-defense. But it wasn't. He killed that man so that he could have his wife. He didn't care that she wouldn't want him. He didn't care that she loved her husband enough to stay with him no matter what. I don't feel bad that I lied to him and I should…shouldn't I? I should feel bad that I lied to send a man to the gallows."
The priest did sigh then. That was classic William reasoning actually. He felt bad that he didn't feel bad. "If you feel that you should," he said. "God will forgive you, my son. You did something wrong to do something right and God will see your intentions more than your actions in this instance." Murdoch made a small sound of dissent. "However if you feel the need to atone then you must say fifteen Hail Mary's and spend some time in reflection of your actions to discover if there was anything you could have done differently."
Murdoch let out a breath in a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Father," he said as he exited the confessional.
The priest shook his head with a small laugh in the ensuing silence. It was good to know that William, steady, good, Godly William was as human as the next man.