Justice in the Tribunals of a Banana Republic

A writer from a self-described Third World country has some challenges for justice in both Church and State and the road ahead for a falsely accused priest in prison.

“The justice of New Hampshire found the priest guilty through a process no less infamous than those seen in the tribunals of any banana republic.”

— Carlos Caso-Rosendi in “Behold the Man!”

By Fr. Gordon J. MacRae — November 16, 2022

Carlos Caso-Rosendi, an accomplished author and translator in Buenos Aires, Argentina, published the fine article linked above in Spanish, Portuguese, and English. It is a superb commentary on the state of justice behind the years I have spent in prison. It challenges both Church and State to live up to the reasons for their existence. Here is a compelling excerpt:

“Many of us in the so-called ‘Third World’ look up to the United States of America as a model for what the administration of justice should be. While it is true that the United States has managed better than other countries to balance the interplay of state powers, we also must admit that those virtues have been shadowed by grievous errors such as justification of slavery, segregation, and lately of murder by abortion.

“Today I present the case of an innocent man, Fr. Gordon MacRae, who has spent the last twenty[-nine] years in prison unjustly condemned in circumstances that would cause any Stalinist magistrate of the former Soviet Union to blush. Someone with a well-known criminal record accused Fr. MacRae, an American citizen with full rights. The justice of New Hampshire found the priest guilty through a process no less infamous than those seen in the tribunals of any banana republic.”

— “Behold the Man!”

Mr. Carlos Caso-Rosendi’s use of the term, “Third World” has an interesting origin. In politics and sociology, it’s the accepted designation for an economically depressed or developing nation. The term arose during the Cold War when two opposing blocs — one led by the United States and the other by the Soviet Union — dominated world power. The Third World consisted of nations with less developed economies affiliated with neither bloc.

The term, Third World originated with Marxist psychiatrist and political theorist, Frantz Fanon, but it was perceived as negative and not always accepted by the nations on which the designation was imposed. Even after the collapse of the Soviet Union as a political bloc in the early 1990s, “Third World” remains in use to refer to economically developing nations in Latin America, Africa, and Asia.

From the pillars of power in the United States, the justice systems of Third World countries are often chastised for being woefully unjust, but not a lot of self-reflection went into that perception. Even setting aside how I came to be where I have been for over 29 years, there is a Third World country existing just beneath my feet. It is the U.S. prison system.

I really don’t have another way to describe it. When it rains, the power goes out. When it snows, the power goes out, when it’s windy, the power goes out. The prisoner telephone system would not be the envy of any Third World country. Prisoners exist in an Internet vacuum, trapped behind an iron and concrete curtain of world ignorance. Citizens in the prison labor force earn the equivalent of about $2.00 per day. The people amassed at the U.S. Southern border are fleeing the political oppression and poverty of Third World nations, but none of them come here for our justice system.

I thank Carlos Caso-Rosendi for writing with candor and truth what he sees from beyond the borders of the United States. He is not alone in his assessment. The great theologian, Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, also had a candid description of how I got here. In “A Kafkaesque Tale” he described it as the story of “a Church and a justice system that seem indifferent to justice.”

Voices Heard Round the World

I owe a debt of thanks to Pornchai Moontri for the moving post he sent us from Thailand. In 29 years in prison, I have barely ever shed a tear. I am stubborn. I just wouldn’t give the dark powers that sent me here the satisfaction of my grief. But when reading “Elephants and Men and Tragedy in Thailand” during a phone call with our editor, I had to pause three times to hold back tears so I could proceed. Pornchai’s post was sad, hopeful, deeply moving, and brilliant. Please pray for the people of Uthai Sawan, Thailand. I can only imagine their sorrow. And please pray for all the rest of us that in our divisions we may be given the grace of perspective from stories like the one Pornchai told us.

And I extend my gratitude to Attorney Harvey Silverglate whose Wall Street Journal op-ed, “Justice Delayed for Father MacRae” is also seen around the world. He was joined in October by David F. Pierre, Jr of The Media Report. They published a series of riveting articles in the past month at Beyond These Stone Walls and elsewhere while I just sat back and let them do all the work. I cannot thank them enough. Catholic League President, Dr. Bill Donohue also stood with me in October to publish a press release about these developments. The timing of these guest writers stepping forward was providential.

Now I need to be candid with you. I began the year 2022 with a new ray of hope, but as this year wound down I saw some looming clouds of possible defeat on the horizon. A revelation in Harvey Silverglate’s recent Wall Street Journal op-ed, “Justice Delayed for Father MacRae” revealed that a court hearing was held in secret in New Hampshire and a judge agreed in secret to allow Detective James McLaughlin to be removed from the public list of officers found to have engaged in misconduct. Secret proceedings are just not a good look for a justice system fending off suspicions of corruption. It is in fact the look of what Carlos Caso-Rosendi describes as “the justice of a Banana Republic.”

That designation refers to a small country economically dependent on a single crop or a single product, often governed by a cabal of like-minded conspirators operating for their own benefit. The misconduct for which former Detective James McLaughlin stands accused has been central in the case against me. As a result, a lot of attention is being paid to Mr.Silverglate’s WSJ op-ed. Among the many affronts to justice covered in that article, Mr. Silverglate wrote:

“In a May 1994 lawsuit, Father MacRae alleged that Detective McLaughlin accused the priest of having taken pornographic photographs of one of the alleged victims. No such photos were ever found.”

There is more to it. Not only were such photos never found, but they were also never looked for. There was no effort whatsoever on the part of the detective to confirm or refute this allegation which came only from McLaughlin himself. There was a reason for that. He already knew it was a lie, and it was his own lie. It floated out there among several news articles about me until 2005. It was even cited by Judge Arthur Brennan as his justification for imposing 67 years in prison. Eleven years after my trial, McLaughlin finally admitted to Dorothy Rabinowitz at The Wall Street Journal that “there was never any evidence of pornography.”

Even that did not stop Damien Fisher, a biased New Hampshire reporter with an agenda, from repeating the claim just months ago as though demonstrably true. Ryan MacDonald wrote a truthful rebuttal in, “A Reporter’s Bias Taints the Defense of Fr Gordon MacRae.” When police can invent evidence that never existed, when the news media can further propagate it long after it has been credibly debunked, what chance does a falsely accused man have in a New Hampshire court?

This is the sort of thing that had me feeling so defeated and had Carlos Caso-Rosendi comparing justice here to that of a banana republic. The justice system has become an ominous and oppressive trap for anyone wrongly convicted. When that trap covers up for the good ole’ boy secrecy behind which justice is being carried out here, how does one proceed?

Justice Unmoored from Truth

In light of all that has transpired and all that has been written, I have hard decisions to make. One of them is about hiring a New Hampshire attorney to challenge my convictions based on newly discovered evidence that the investigating police detective had a secret record of misconduct. The claims about him are taking shape and growing in number. One claim reported in local news media is that former Detective McLaughlin has erased tape recordings of statements from witnesses that do not support his bias. This is exactly what I have accused him of for the last 29 years .

I have recently been advised by a New Hampshire lawyer with expertise in this area. Her analysis was candid and I much appreciate it. The bottom line is that justice here will be yet another steep uphill and unpredictable climb. Detective McLaughlin has boasted of over 1,000 sexual assault arrests with a nearly 100 percent conviction rate due to his penchant for arranging lenient plea deals to boost his public persona. He has boasted of removing over 1,000 sexual offenders from the streets but the “removal” is only for a year or so. Guilty defendants gladly took his plea deals, but innocent defendants can only be conned or coerced into them.

Because of the extreme “success” of his actions and methods, Detective James McLaughlin has been widely hailed in some circles as a hero-cop. From the point of view of the justice department and judicial system, however, the growing evidence of his misconduct is a threat to the system itself. As a result — and it is a fact of the legal advice I have received — the entire system will be hell-bent on protecting the corrupt cop while sacrificing me. “They will flood you with motions and delays to bankrupt you,” I was told by a New Hampshire attorney, and that has indeed been my experience.

As a prisoner of 29 years (and counting) with no income beyond the $2.00 per day I earn in a Third World prison job, I do not have the resources for another legal challenge — and especially for another protracted and uncertain one. In 2012 when I raised funds for an appeal, New Hampshire judges simply declined to hear any new evidence or witnesses in the end. A past U.S. Supreme Court ruling left this to their discretion, but they did not seem to have any. The affidavit of the new investigator and the statements of the witnesses he uncovered are linked at the end of this post. You be the judge.

And then there is priesthood. I am likely the only imprisoned priest in the world who has not been simply discarded from the clerical state just for being deemed with the new designation of convenience for bishops, “unsuitable for ministry.” There is now in the U.S. a “Coalition for Canceled Priests” trying to assist priests who are thrown aside for far less cause than a prison sentence. I am innocent of the claims against me, but should I now be forced to trade priesthood for freedom? I cannot. Carlos Caso-Rosendi ended “Behold the Man!” with a burning question:

“Barabbas is gone,

Judas has received his thirty silver coins:

Behold the man, Gordon MacRae!

Bishops of the Church:

What do we do with him?”

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Editor’s Note: Read the affidavit of former FBI Special Agent Supervisor James Abbott and the statements of six witnesses from whom New Hampshire judges declined to hear.

Apocalypse Now? Jesus and the Signs of the Times

The Gospel According to St Luke for the 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time warns of destruction and persecution. Do we face the End Times or a summons to self-assessment?

You might remember Comet Shoemaker-Levy. The size of a major U.S. city, it was discovered and tracked by astronomers — for whom it was named — wandering through our solar system in the vicinity of Jupiter in March, 1993. A previous pass near the powerful gravity of Jupiter a year earlier broke the comet into a series of town-sized debris that ended up colliding with the giant planet.

It sent a thrill through the world of astronomy and a chill through just about everyone else. What gave Jupiter a mere black eye or two would have obliterated all life on Planet Earth. This was, for science, clear evidence that an extinction level event that wiped out the dinosaurs and most life on Earth 66 million years ago was more likely than not a comet or asteroid the size of a city.

Since 1993, the scientific evidence has become clearer. That asteroid exploded with the force of a million nuclear bombs in the sea near what is now, Mexico. The event triggered massive tidal waves, earthquakes, and a global rain of red-hot debris that blocked out all sunlight for decades. Most vegetation on the Planet was gone, and would take 700,000 years to regenerate.

On the outskirts of Colorado Springs recently, researchers uncovered thousands of fossils that show how the age of mammals arose from the dust and ashes of that event. The age of mammals was allowed to happen because the age of dinosaurs was put to an end by the collision. The fossil trove of mammalian species discovered near Colorado Springs demonstrates how life on Earth was reset through that event giving way, eventually, to us.

That, at least, is the analysis of geoscientists published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences on October 21, 2019. According to the fossil record, it took 40,000 years for life in the sea to even begin to recover from the event.

So when Jesus addressed the crowd in the Gospel of St. Luke, He may have been prophetic when He said, “When these things begin to take place, look up.” Today’s listeners have a frame of reference:

“And there will be signs in the sun and moon and stars, and upon the earth distress of nations in perplexity with the roaring of the sea and the waves, men fainting with fear and with foreboding of what is coming in the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. And then they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory. Now when these things begin to take place, look up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”

— Luke 21:25-28

The above passage is immediately preceded in Luke’s Gospel by the passages that constitute the Gospel proclamation for the 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time, the penultimate Sunday liturgy of the Church’s Liturgical Year and the Sunday preceding the Solemnity of Christ the King. The Gospel verses immediately preceding the above passage — the one you will soon hear at Sunday Mass — are filled with the doomsday language about cosmic events:

“Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be great earthquakes, famines, pestilences and great signs from heaven. But before this they will lay their hands on you and persecute you, delivering you up to the synagogues and prisons.”

— Luke 21:10-12

Delivering us up to prisons? Lord, have mercy, not again!

Carlos Caso-Rosendi is an accomplished linguist, translator, writer and historian. Writing from Buenos Aires, Argentina, the home of Pope Francis, Carlos penned a moving and incisive summary of the state of justice in my regard awhile back. It was a brief but powerful article published simultaneously in Portuguese, Spanish, and English entitled, “Behold the Man.”

Carlos also writes periodically for other venues including The Lepanto Institute, a Catholic organization that takes its name from the Battle of Lepanto, a naval battle fought on October 7, 1571 in the Gulf of Lepanto (now called the Gulf of Corinth). The battle between the Ottoman Empire and the Holy League formed by Pope Julius II aligned the Papal States with Spain, Venice, and Genoa.

Though vastly outnumbered and outgunned, the Holy League was decisively victorious, but not without suffering the loss of many lives. The victory delivered thousands of Christian slaves and captured more than 100 ships. The battle was the first major victory of the Christians against the Ottoman Empire.

More recently, Carlos has been writing about “The Signs of the Times”, building a case for the emergence of the End Times that Jesus seems to be prophesying in the above Gospel passages. Many readers have been following his “End Time” posts. I would not even think of refuting Carlos in this. He could run circles around me with his knowledge of Prophetic literature, apocalyptic traditions, and original languages.

Several TSW  readers have mentioned his posts with various levels of concern — and sometimes excitement — that Carlos might be entirely right. I do not know whether The End is near, but in a sense it is near for all of us and we should approach our days with an eye toward what may come, as Saint Paul warned, “like a thief in the night” (1 Thes. 5:2). It is folly to get caught up in the drama all around us when heaven awaits — or not, if nothing changes.

It is difficult to refute the End Time discourse raised by Carlos, but in this both science and our faith are on the same page. Life on Earth has ended before and the scientific odds are clear that it will happen again. It is generally agreed in science that the millions of similar comets and asteroids traveling randomly through space pose an existential threat to life on Earth. It is not a matter of whether  Earth will again find itself in the crosshairs of a giant asteroid, but when.

And there are other doomsday scenarios set forth, not by Scripture, but by science. It is known today that the magnetic polarity of the Earth has shifted its positive and negative poles every few hundred thousand years. Magnetic North shifts its polarity to the South Pole. Earth is now about 100,000 years overdue for the next unpredictable shift. Our ancient ancestors may not have even noticed, but today our dependence on technology could leave us stranded in chaos for decades if global power grids and all computers suddenly became irreparably disabled by a global electromagnetic pulse.

The Temple and the Covenant

I am also always aware of the multiple layers of meaning in the parables and teachings of Jesus in the Gospels. I do not discount the literal interpretation of Prophetic and Apocalyptic Literature in Sacred Scripture, but there are other, parallel meanings in the end-of-all-things scenario that St Luke’s Gospel describes.

The above Gospel passages presented by St Luke take place on the Mount of Olives and collectively they are known as the “Olivet Discourse.” The Mount of Olives is an ancient hill to the East of Jerusalem that overlooks the city across the Kidron Valley (see 2 Samuel 15:30 and Zechariah 14:40). The Mount was famous for the large number of olive trees that grew there in the time of Jesus.

As I addressed in another post, “Waking up in the Garden of Gethsemane,” the Mount of Olives was the scene of the betrayal of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, and it was the scene of His Ascension. A thousand years earlier, it was also the scene of the agony of King David after his betrayal by his son, Absalom. It is a scene of great Biblical importance for Hebrew and Christian ears.

The Gospel for the end of Ordinary Time begins with an observation by Jesus’ disciples about the “noble stones” that adorn the Temple in Jerusalem. They could be seen across the Kidron Valley from the Mount of Olives. Herod the Great began an expansion of the Temple in 19 BC. The Temple was immense, and its “noble stones” at its foundation are equally immense. Some measured forty feet in length.

Jesus tells his disciples that the indestructible appearance of the Temple is an illusion “As for these things that you see, the days will come when there shall not be left here one stone upon another” (Luke 21:6). A similar discourse also takes place in the Gospel of Matthew (24-25) and it too speaks of end times, cosmic catastrophes, heavenly signs, and the future judgment of God.

But looking at the words of Jesus in the context of his original hearers and the traditions of ancient Judaism provides a parallel meaning at the literal-historical level. Jesus was also speaking of the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple, symbolic of the Old Covenant. This places the entire “End Time” discourse in the context of His words about the Temple, the stones of which “shall not be left here one stone upon another.”

Hearing this at the Mount of Olives, the disciples of Jesus might recall something described in a recent post, “Pope Francis, President Trump, and the Rise of the Nones.” In 597 BC Babylonian invaders destroyed the Temple sending the Jews into exile.

As described in that post, King Cyrus gathered the Babylonians into an Empire and then ordered his army to restore what they had destroyed. In 538 BC, King Cyrus restored the Jews to their Promised Land and rebuilt the Temple of Solomon. It was from this period that Messianic expectations permeated Israel.

Cyrus is strikingly referred to by the Prophet Isaiah as “the Lord’s Anointed” (Isaiah 45:1), a title that Israel previously reserved only for its kings and for the expectation of a Messiah. The prophecy of Jesus at the Mount of Olives was confirmed when Roman soldiers sacked Jerusalem and destroyed the Temple in 70 AD claiming the lives of more than one million Jews.

The Image of the Invisible God

The End Times discourse of Jesus may also have referred to the future destruction of the Temple by the Roman Empire in 70 AD. The Jews regarded their Temple as a representation or microcosm of the world, an architectural model of the universe fashioned by God. The universe itself was seen by the Jews as a sort of “macrotemple,” the place where God presides and throughout which His Divine Presence permeates.

This is summarized in the Psalms “He built His sanctuary like the high heavens, like the earth which he founded forever” (Psalm 78:69). There are other Old Testament references to equating the Temple with the world. After the Genesis account of the creation of the world, God rested from all his work which he had done (Genesis 2:3). The Temple was seen as the sacred place of God’s rest. He commissioned the building of his Temple by Solomon as “his resting place forever” (Psalm 132:14 and 1 Chronicles 6:41).

The symbolism of the number “seven” also links the Temple with the Hebrew world view. In the Books of Job (38:4-6) and Amos (9:6) God’s creation of the world is described as a Temple completed and blessed on the seventh day. Solomon built the Jerusalem Temple in seven years (1 Kings 6:38) and dedicated it on the seventh month (1 Kings 8:2) during the seven day Feast of Booths — also known as the harvest Feast of the Ingathering (1 Kings 8:65).

The Prophet Isaiah’s vision of the Lord (Isaiah 6:1-7) makes a comparison that the Temple and the Cosmos are interchangeably filled with God’s glory. The train of God’s robe “fills the Temple” (Isaiah 6:1) and the angels cry out that “the whole earth is filled with his glory” (Isaiah 6:3). For the Prophet Isaiah, the Temple and the cosmos are both the house of God.

Other Jewish writers in the time of Jesus described in great detail the Temple as a model for the universe. The historians, Josephus and Philo, and the late rabbinic writings, described the Temple’s divisions, furnishings, and architecture as symbols of the cosmos, the celestial Temple.

The declarations of Jesus on the Mount of Olives in the Gospels of Saints Matthew and Luke may well portend the end of the world as Carlos Caso-Rosendi and others looking at End Time prophecy interpret them. I will not say they are wrong, for this world is most certainly turning its gaze away from God and back onto itself.

We are living in the age of humanity’s narcissism. The signs of the times certainly point to the possibility that we are witnessing the signs of an Apocalypse as large swaths of humanity desecrate the Covenant sealed with the Blood of Christ.

But the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple was also seen as an apocalypse. It was the symbolic termination of the Old Covenant and the rise of the New — in Jesus Himself. As I have written in some past posts, we live today in a spiritually very important time. Jesus is equidistant in time between us today and God’s First Covenant with Abraham.

The end may indeed be near, but regardless, life is too short to waste it in the folly of this world. Jesus is the epicenter of our time and is in Himself the Temple Covenant of Sacrifice with God. As the Second Reading for the upcoming Solemnity of Christ the King proclaims:

“He is the image of the Invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For in him were created all things in heaven and on earth, the visible and the invisible.”

— Colossians 1:1-2

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Behold the Man, as Pilate Washes His Hands

“Ecce Homo!” An 1871 painting of Christ before Pilate by Antonio Ciseri depicts a moment woven into the fabric of salvation history, and into our very souls.

“So when Pilate saw that he was gaining nothing, but rather that a riot was beginning, he took water and washed his hands before the crowd saying, ‘I am innocent of this righteous man’s blood.’”

— Matthew 27: 24

A now well known Wall Street Journal  article, “The Trials of Father MacRae” by Dorothy Rabinowitz (May 10, 2013) had a photograph of me — with hair, no less — being led in chains from my 1994 trial. When I saw that photo, I was drawn back to a vivid scene that I wrote about during Holy Week two years ago in “Dismas, Crucified to the Right: Paradise Lost and Found.” My Holy Week post began with the scene depicted in that photo and all that was to follow on the day I was sent to prison. It was the Feast of Saint Padre Pio, September 23, 1994, but as I stood before Judge Arthur Brennan to hear my condemnation, I was oblivious to that fact.

Had that photo a more panoramic view, you would see two men shuffling in chains ahead of me toward a prison-bound van. They had the misfortune of being surrounded by clicking cameras aimed at me, and reporters jockeying for position to capture the moment to feed “Our Catholic Tabloid Frenzy About Fallen Priests.” That short walk to the prison van seemed so very long. Despite his own chains, one of the two convicts ahead of me joined the small crowd in mockery of me. The other chastised him in my defense.

Writing from prison 18 years later, in Holy Week 2012, I could not help but remember some irony in that scene as I contemplated the fact of “Dismas, Crucified to the Right.” That post ended with the brief exchange between Christ and Dismas from their respective crosses, and the promise of Paradise on the horizon in response to the plea of Dismas: “Remember me when you come into your kingdom.” This conversation from the cross has some surprising meaning beneath its surface. That post might be worth a Good Friday visit this year.

But before the declaration to Dismas from the Crucified Christ — “Today, you will be with me in Paradise” (Luke 23:43) — salvation history required a much more ominous declaration. It was that of Pontius Pilate who washed his hands of any responsibility for the Roman execution of the Christ.

Two weeks ago, in “What if the Prodigal Son Had No Father to Return To?”, I wrote of my fascination with etymology, the origins of words and their meanings. There is also a traceable origin for many oft-used phrases such as “I wash my hands of it.” That well-known phrase came down to us through the centuries to renounce responsibility for any number of the injustices incurred by others. The phrase is a direct allusion to the words and actions of Pontius Pilate from the Gospel of Saint Matthew (27: 24).

Before Pilate stood an innocent man, Jesus of Nazareth, about to be whipped and beaten, then crowned with thorns in mockery of his kingship. Pilate had no real fear of the crowd. He had no reason to appease them. No amount of hand washing can cleanse from history the stain that Pilate tried to remove from himself by this symbolic washing of his hands.

This scene became the First Station of the Cross. At the Shrine of Lourdes the scene includes a boy standing behind Pilate with a bowl of water to wash away Pilate’s guilt. My friend, Father George David Byers sent me a photo of it, and a post he once wrote after a pilgrimage to Lourdes:

“Some of you may be familiar with ‘The High Stations’ up on the mountain behind the grotto in Lourdes, France. The larger-than-life bronze statues made vivid the intensity of the injustice that is occurring. In the First Station, Jesus, guarded by Roman soldiers, is depicted as being condemned to death by Pontius Pilate who is about to wash his hands of this unjust judgment. A boy stands at the ready with a bowl and a pitcher of water so as to wash away the guilt from the hands of Pilate . . . Some years ago a terrorist group set off a bomb in front of this scene. The bronze statue of Pontius Pilate was destroyed . . . The water boy is still there, eager to wash our hands of guilt, though such forgiveness is only given from the Cross.”

The Writing on the Wall

As that van left me behind these stone walls that day over thirty years ago, the other two prisoners with me were sent off to the usual Receiving Unit, but something more special awaited me. I was taken to begin a three-month stay in solitary confinement. Every surface of the cell I was in bore the madness of previous occupants. Every square inch of its walls was completely covered in penciled graffiti. At first, it repulsed me. Then, after unending days with nothing to contemplate but my plight and those walls, I began to read. I read every scribbled thought, every scrawled expletive, every plea for mercy and deliverance. I read them a hundred times over before I emerged from that tomb three months later, still sane. Or so I thought.

When I read “On the Day of Padre Pio, My Best Friend Was Stigmatized,” Pornchai Maximilian Moontri’s guest post from Thailand, I wondered how he endured solitary confinement that stretched for year upon year. “Today as I look back,” he wrote, “I see that even then in the darkness of solitary confinement, Christ was calling me out of the dark.” It’s an ironic image because one of the most maddening things about solitary confinement is that it’s never dark. Intense overhead lights are on 24/7.

The darkness of solitary confinement he described is only on the inside, the inside of a mind and soul, and it’s a pitch blackness that defies description. My psyche was wounded, at best, after three months. I cannot describe how Pornchai endured this for many years. But he did, and no doubt those who brought it about have since washed their hands of it.

For me, once out of solitary confinement, the writing on the walls took on new meaning. In “Angelic Justice: St Michael the Archangel and the Scales of Hesed,” I described a section of each cell wall where prisoners are allowed to post the images that give meaning and hope to their lives. One wall in each cell contains two painted rectangles, each barely more than two by four feet, and posted within them are the sole remnant of any individualism in prison. You can learn a lot about a man from that finite space on his wall.

When I was moved into this cell, Pornchai’s wall was empty, and mine remained empty as well. Once this blog began in 2009, however, readers began to transform our wall without realizing it. Images sent to me made their way onto the wall, and some of the really nice ones somehow mysteriously migrated over to Pornchai’s wall. A very nice Saint Michael icon spread its wings and flew over to his side one day. That now famous photo of Pope Francis with a lamb placed on his shoulders is on Pornchai’s wall, and when I asked him how my Saint Padre Pio icon managed to get over there, he muttered something about bilocation.

Ecce Homo!

One powerful image, however, has never left its designated spot in the very center of my wall. It’s a five-by-seven inch card bearing the 1871 painting, “Ecce Homo!” — “Behold the Man!” — by the Swiss-born Italian artist, Antonio Ciseri. It was sent to me by a reader during Holy Week a few years ago. The haunting image went quickly onto my cell wall where it has remained since. The Ciseri painting depicts a scene that both draws me in and repels me at the same time.

On one dark day in prison, I decided to take it down from my wall because it troubles me. But I could not, and it took some time to figure out why. This scene of Christ before Pilate captures an event described vividly in the Gospel of Saint John (19:1-5). Pilate, unable to reason with the crowd has Jesus taken behind the scenes to be stripped and scourged, a mocking crown of thorns thrust upon his head. The image makes me not want to look, but then once I do look, I have a hard time looking away.

When he is returned to Pilate, as the scene depicts, the hands of Christ are bound behind his back, a scarlet garment in further mockery of his kingship is stripped from him down to his waist. His eyes are cast to the floor as Pilate, in fine white robes, gestures to Christ with his left hand to incite the crowd into a final decision that he has the power to overrule, but won’t. “Behold the Man!” Pilate shouts in a last vain gesture that perhaps this beating and public humiliation might be enough for them. It isn’t.

I don’t want to look, and I can’t look away because I once stood in that spot, half naked before Pilate in a trial-by-mob. On that day when I arrived in prison, before I was thrown into solitary confinement for three months, I was unceremoniously doused with a delousing agent, and then forced to stand naked while surrounded by men in riot gear, Pilate’s guards mocking not so much what they thought was my crime, but my priesthood. They pointed at me and laughed, invited me to give them an excuse for my own scourging, and then finally, when the mob was appeased, they left me in the tomb they prepared, the tomb of solitary confinement. Many would today deny that such a scene ever took place, but it did. It was thirty years ago. Most are gone now, collecting state pensions for their years of public service, having long since washed their hands of all that ever happened in prison.

Behold the Man!

I don’t tell this story because I equate myself with Christ. It’s just the opposite. In each Holy Week post I’ve written, I find that I am some other character in this scene. I’ve been “Simon of Cyrene, Compelled to Carry the Cross.” I’ve been “Dismas, Crucified to the Right.” I tell this story first because it’s the truth, and second because having lived it, I today look upon that scene of Christ before Pilate on my wall, and I see it differently than most of you might. I relate to it perhaps a bit more than I would had I myself never stood before Pilate.

Having stared for three years at this scene fixed upon my cell wall, words cannot describe the sheer force of awe and irony I felt when someone sent me an October 2013 article by Carlos Caso-Rosendi written and published in Buenos Aires, Argentina, the home town of Pope Francis. The article was entitled, “Behold the Man!” and it was about my trial and imprisonment. Having no idea whatsoever of the images upon my cell wall, Carlos Caso-Rosendi’s article began with this very same image: Antonio Ciseri’s 1871 painting, “Ecce Homo!” TSW reader, Bea Pires, printed Carlos’ article and sent it to Pope Francis.

I read the above paragraphs to Pornchai-Maximilian about the power of this scene on my wall. He agrees that he, too, finds this image over on my side of this cell to be vaguely troubling and disconcerting, and for the same reasons I do. He has also lived the humiliation the scene depicts, and because of that he relates to the scene as I do, with both reverence and revulsion. “That’s why it stay on your wall,” he said, “and never found its way over to mine!”

Aha! A confession!

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