“Monsignor, you have to make the judges throw out the voice mail. There has to be a rule against stolen evidence.”
“It may not have been stolen. Secretariat phones are property of the nunciature, as may have been the voice mail system or answering machine where the message was left. Regardless, the fact is that the judges have already ruled on this. They will accept the message.”
I’m taken aback. “Why?”
Mignatto presses his hands downward through the air, asking for a détente. “Please,” he says, “try to remember that this isn’t civil law. In our inquisitorial system, the highest good is not protection of the accused’s rights but pursuit of truth. Information with probative value, even if illegally obtained, must be considered by the tribunal.”
“So then,” I fume, “what else can they do to Simon? Anything they want? You still think all of this is fair and normal?”
“It is fair. And no murder trial in a canonical court is normal.”
“Then who made the recording?”
“I assure you I’m trying to find out.”
Michael said that before he was beaten up, he was followed to the airport by priests who had come from the nunciature. Too many threads lead back to the Secretariat.
“Please,” Mignatto says, pushing forward, “leave this to me. For now, there’s one other point we need to discuss. As I mentioned to you last night, the defense may suggest deponents, even though the tribunal isn’t required to hear their testimony. Since your brother’s priesthood is at risk, I hope to convince the judges that they should accept character witnesses. It would help me if you could provide a list of candidates. The more impressive, the better.”
Immediately I say, “Michael Black.”
He brandishes a pen. “Say again?”
“Father Michael Black.”
“My advice is that these witnesses should be at least bishops.”
“He’s not a character witness. He was threatened by the same people. They beat him up.” I slip the photo out of my wallet and hand it to him.
Mignatto studies the picture gravely. “Where is this man now? I need to speak to him.”
“He works at the same nunciature as Simon, but he’s laying low.”
“How do I reach him?”
I have Michael’s mobile number, but if Mignatto calls him directly, Michael will take it as a breach of trust.
“Let me talk to him first,” I say.
He told his attackers where to find my spare key. He owes me much more than a call on a pay phone.
“If Black’s going to be deposed, we need him in Rome as soon as possible.”
“I’ll make it happen.”
He nods, and his acquiescence soothes my nerves. The sight of Michael’s injuries seems to have made him less hostile to my concerns. We run through a short list of character witnesses whom Mignatto appears to have been sent by Diego, but my mind remains on Michael. With testimony from him, the gendarmes might reevaluate the break-in. In which case, one more piece of proof might be all the court needs.
“Monsignor,” I say, “there’s something else I need to tell you. I think Peter saw the man who broke into our apartment.”
His expression changes. The last of his cheer fades. “You talked to him about it?”