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Chapter 44

"A Rich Man's Grief"

The Christmas Eve just mere feet from the downed Maid of the Seas cockpit of Pan Am 103 signified that power can come from a variety of ways, especially after a disaster. Humans and Pokemon of Lockerbie came together to remember the dead with both funeral and Christmas hymns and to remember the importance of being strong willed in the face of adversity.

Once mass has concluded, Psyduck and I walked out of the church with the congregation, but one man was still inside.

"Miss Stevens?" I heard Father Keegans say after greeting a parishioner.

"Yes, father?" I asked.

"There's a gentleman inside who wishes to speak with you," he answered. "He says his name is Raymond Alden."

Raymond Alden…the man I wanted to speak to, but rather than me coming to him, he came to me which was in a sense unusual. So, Psyduck and I went back into the church and there sitting in the front pew was the publishing magnet, Raymond Alden. With only the sounds of my high heels clacking against the floor, I took off my black overcoat and joined him in the pew, looking up at the statue of Christ overlooking the altar.

"Father Keegans said you asked of me, Mr. Alden," I whispered, brushing a lock of my hair out of my eyes.

"Yes," he sighed, after doing a sign of the cross. "I had been trying to figure out who you are, Miss Stevens, but the woman at the town hall told me your name. You're reporting on the crash, aren't you?"

He then looked me over for a second, much to my confusion.

"Yes, yes I am," I said. "For CMN news back in Ryme City. I'm sorry about your daughter and your editor in chief."

"Thank you, Miss Stevens," he whispered, sitting back in the pew. "You know, you kind of look like my daughter, Laura. You have the same hair and same eyes as hers. But, nevertheless, for three days, my faith has been shaken more so than anything else. I just can't believe Stewart had something to do with this. I mean…what else could I have given him? He would have been happy in the position he was in."

"What position was that, Mr. Alden?"

"Call me Raymond, Miss Stevens."

"Okay Raymond."

"Stewart had only been with me for a short time and he had such high hopes. How was I supposed to know that he would have done what he did? Stewart Swinton working for Team Rocket? It just didn't make sense to me."

The more I sat with Raymond, the more I could sympathize with him. Like Raymond, I also lost someone close to me in the Pan Am 103 bombing.

"That's just how Team Rocket works I'm afraid, Raymond," I said. "In fact, I also lost someone close to me in the bombing."

"Who?"

"Scarlet Garcia, she was a reporter based in Frankfurt and was covering the trial of the Pan Am 73 hijackers in Nuremberg."

"I'm sorry, Miss Stevens."

"Call me Lucy," I chuckled, sort of doubling back on what he said.

"All right, Lucy."

He then looked back up at the Christ statue above the altar, seemingly asking the statue why his daughter was taken away so violently? It just didn't seem fair to him, nor to me, nor to any of the victims' families and friends who were in mass tonight.

"But, an FBI agent came up to me today and came to the conclusion that Stewart was possibly a contributor to the Pan Am 103 bombing. So, I know that he had something to do with the crash, but at least I can go home tomorrow with both my daughter and editor in chief."

He then lowered his head in prayer, doing another sign of the cross for a moment before sitting back up.

"I'm going to have my daughter buried just off of a lake on my property where all her pets and Pokemon are buried," Raymond confessed. "Laura told me as a child that if anything were to happen to her, she wanted to be buried with them."

I then noticed a small tear in the corner of Raymond's eye, feeling as if the emotion of his daughter's death was starting to take a toll on him.

"I…I also received Laura's clothes and belongings that were recovered from the wreckage," he added. "She was going to give me this tomorrow."

I then noticed a small nutcracker sitting next to Raymond, slightly damaged by fire.

"Picked it up in Moscow," he said sadly. "And do you know what the saddest thing about all this is, Lucy?"

"No, what?"

"That my daughter and I were just starting to reconnect for the first time since my wife and son died. Laura was a lost soul until she met Will. Even though he was married and older than him, they had a chemistry that I would have to accept one day. Most men in her life loved her for her beauty, but she wanted to be loved for who she was: a lost soul attracted to wounded creatures."

Looking at the Christ Statue, I silently asked him to pray for this man and for all the victims' families in the wake of this horrible tragedy.

"Well," he sighed, climbing out of the pew and grabbing his overcoat. "I need to get back to the inn and get some sleep, Lucy. We have a long flight home tomorrow."

Just as Raymond was about to leave, I had one more question for him.

"Raymond," I said, stopping him in his tracks. "If Stewart is found to be partly responsible for the bombing, would you ever forgive him?"

This made him turn back around to face me.

"I am a Catholic, Lucy," he said. "I might forgive him one day if he's guilty, but not fully. There's a place below our feet that is waiting for him and all affiliated with Team Rocket. They are the devil's soldiers…and Stewart is one of them. Now, if you'll excuse me, Lucy and Merry Christmas."

I stood and watched as Raymond walked out of the church and into the cold Christmas Eve night.

"Psyduck?"

"Well, we'd better get going too, Psyduck," I said as I grabbed my black overcoat and put it on. "There's a lot to take in after today."

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As I rode back from the church with Farmer Jones, I couldn't help but think of the fact that someone like Raymond Alden would not fully forgive this Stewart Swinton if he was a Team Rocket agent? But nevertheless, Raymond Alden was a rich man filled with grief and sorrow. Rich or poor, adult or child, this bombing affected everyone and there was a lot I was going to unpack before reporting on how everyone affected by this tragedy was going to recover.

One thing was for sure, however, that Raymond Alden was a prime example of the saddened, the angered, the victimized of this tragedy and there was plenty more where that came from.

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