POSTULATION

Tuesday, January 8, 1985

I arrived in Boston yesterday and was met at the airport by Rev. Matthew Moore, a young man who recently graduated from Saint John’s Seminary in Brighton, Massachusetts. He was appointed by the Cardinal Archbishop Law as Diocesan Postulator for the Cause of Blessed Rev. James Cullen. He seems well-educated and knowledgeable and it is a welcome relief that he will assist me in my postulation. I was happy to know that he has learned to speak some Italian, for I often miss my mother tongue whenever I travel. Of course, his accent is strange and pronunciation poor, but it is a comfort just the same.

I reviewed the Positio during my flight and I must admit that this cause holds some interest for me. The Congregation for the Causes of the Saints has hundreds of files constantly under review, many of them regarding dedicated pious priests, monks, and friars. These are so many stories about men and women of extraordinary holiness but too many are far removed from the ordinary people. Prefect Palazzini himself expressed to me the story of James Cullen has some appeal, simply because he was a regular hard-working man. If proved to be worthy of beatification, he might be a popular saint among the masses.

Moore picked me up in a simple black sedan, and after a short drive, we arrived at the town of Walpole. We checked into the Walpole Motel around 7pm, early enough to get a good night’s sleep. I don’t mind traveling by airplane, but sometimes a long flight leaves me feeling drained. So, Moore promised to let me rest for the night but tomorrow we would already be busy.

Moore, as requested to him by the Cardinal Archbishop, has already arranged appointments with everybody associated with this cause. Tomorrow I will begin my phase of the postulation with the interview of Benjamin Mason, a former prison guard and friend of the late chaplain. We will have to go back to Boston but I look forward to it, since it will give me a chance to review a few details of the positio with Moore. Aside from my work, I am interested to get to know this young man.

Matthew Moore may be young but already he is an accomplished scholar. The membership of the Society of Jesus has declined in recent times and he is exactly the type of young blood our order needs. I have read some of his writings regarding historical and modern heresies and I feel, though I haven’t told him, that we have a similar spirit. I, too, detest heresy and will expose it wherever I may find it.

Wednesday, January 9, 1985

In the afternoon, Moore and I went to Boston to meet Benjamin Mason, a former guard at Walpole Prison. Mr. Mason is a Baptist by upbringing and made no hesitation in expressing his opposition to the dogmas of the Catholic Church. Numerous times he expressed that he disapproved of the “worship of the Queen of Heaven.” Evangelicals often quote Jeremiah and I gave him my usual reply that not all Catholics, like myself, follow the same set of beliefs, just as not all Protestants believe in the speaking of tongues or full-immersion baptism. He laughed gruffly and led us to his kitchen where he had some coffee brewing. Moore and Mason both had their coffee black and I had to settle with a bit of milk since Moore had no cream.

The interview that followed was standard. I asked the usual questions regarding Cullen and got the usual answers. He was an upstanding Christian and a good man. There was nothing unusual in his public or private life that anyone was aware of. Actually, there seemed to be nothing of note at all about the late chaplain. The standard questions revealed nothing about Rev. Cullen that I didn’t already know, so I finished the interview questions quickly.

I know very little about the prison system in any country and I asked them both if they could share their experiences with me. It was then that Mr. Mason recalled the first time Cullen had truly impressed him.

When Walpole Prison had first opened in 1956, every guard who was assigned there had been transferred from somewhere else. This was, of course, common-sense protocol for staffing a new maximum-security prison. Many of the prisoners would be hardened criminals so experienced guards were necessary, at least during the first few months. But this also meant that most of the staff formed cliques, depending on which prison they had transferred from. This seemed a comfortable arrangement and most of the work-shifts seemed to follow this unspoken agreement. As new staff arrived, they were distributed evenly among the work-shifts. It was after a few months that Rev. Cullen began to notice problems, for the new guards were not easily accepted into the already-formed groups.

So, the chaplain arranged with the warden to introduce some shift changes. The cliques that had formed would be broken-up and mixed with other groups. In this way, everyone could get to know each other better and a sense of team-spirit and unity could be formed. Of course, people always resist change, even unconsciously, so to ease tension, he would host an end-of-day mixer in his office. He personally would provide the spirits and the cards for a friendly game of poker.

In two weeks, he hosted ten of these little events in his chaplaincy office. At first, only a few guards attended but by the end of the first week, the office had become crowded enough to spill over into the chapel itself. By the second week, the warden decided to convert a conference room into a staff lounge, where the guards could spend time together, unwinding after a hard day of work. Cullen’s effort resulted in positive changes and a sense of community began to evolve among the guards, old and new. Mason said that this event was typical of Cullen’s philosophy, the belief that even small faith and simple acts could move a mountain.

Friday, January 11, 1985

Moore had the exhumation scheduled for today. It was, as always, the least pleasant part of the postulation. Although I do not question the need for a “Non Cultus” Declaration, it seems to me that there is rarely a need to actually dig up and examine a body. In these days of mass communication, the evidence of undue worship usually presents itself quite publicly. Cullen has received little attention from his diocese, during or after his life, so it is doubtful anyone outside of Walpole would even recognize his name.

But nevertheless, procedure must be followed, and for the first time, in my own experience anyway, I unearthed more than just a body. After opening Cullen’s casket, a mystery presented itself. The late Reverend’s skin was too pale and light-colored spots seemed to cover most of his body. I have exhumed many candidates for sainthood and my experience has made me familiar with how a corpse should appear. This would seem to suggest that perhaps Cullen’s apparent cause of death may not have been heart-failure. I am no medical expert, but I do have one available to me. Rosemary Park’s phone number was in my notebook and I immediately called her and described the appearance of the body. She agreed that pale skin and spots seem to indicate that there may have been another cause of death and suggested an autopsy to make a more exact determination. It may be unnecessary but in the interest of truth, any facts that can be made certain, should be. Because of that, the church will, of course, pay any reasonable expense involved in a case.

So, I asked Dr. Park to arrange for the body to be transferred to a hospital in Boston, where it will be stored until she has time to conduct the autopsy. She said her schedule at the prison keeps her busy but she will arrange with the warden for a day off next week. Also, she promised to arrange for a few expert opinions so as to determine the cause of Cullen’s death beyond any doubt. I thanked her for her immense help and wished her a good night.

Monday, January 14, 1985

After nearly a week in America, I finally met the original petitioner of this case, Nathaniel Richard. Though he is supposedly reformed, I was more than a little apprehensive to meet him. He is, after all, a convict and has spent more than half of his life incarcerated. I have never had a conversation with a murderer before today and even though the interview went well, I must confess that I do not want to repeat the experience.

Apparently, I received special permission from the warden to conduct the interview in the chaplaincy of Walpole Prison. Moore dropped me off at the visitor’s entrance where I met Quinn. He led me through a maze of hallways and gates until we emerged in the chaplaincy office which I presumed to be the same one that Benjamin Mason had spoken of the other day. It was hard to imagine Cullen hosting a card game in this little space since there seemed barely enough room for the desk and two people.

There were numerous security precautions to reach the office and it also had an additional security door to the chapel, which was only possible to open once our exit had been sealed. At that moment, I suddenly realized where I was and I had to fight against the panic I felt inside. I looked at Quinn with great admiration — everyday he shuts himself in with the lions. Then, I wondered what a prisoner must feel like with his freedom taken from him, what it is like to be treated like an animals locked inside cages of cement and iron.

Waiting for us in the chapel, kneeling in prayer, was Nathaniel. At that moment I did not fear him, for he looked as serene as a Benedictine monk. Quinn put his hand on the man’s head, who then opened his eyes. It was then that I saw eyes that were as sharp as knives but filled with warmth. He slowly and silently walked into the chaplaincy office. Quinn promised to leave us alone for awhile and in the meantime he would tidy up the library.

Unfortunately, Nathaniel did not tell me anything I did not already know. But I did find his faith amazing, to say the least. Here was a man, who had lost everything and was cast aside by the world, and somehow had found his faith behind bars. Like a monk, he owned nothing, was chaste, and spent his days in prayer and penitence.

He had admired Cullen greatly in their short time together. During his life, Cullen had been his religious mentor and father figure. After his death, he often had dreams and visions of his teacher. In those visions, Cullen was flanked by angels at the throne of God. The visions seemed full of wondrous beauty and faith, like the visions of other petitioners I have interviewed before. There was nothing specifically unusual that came up in the interview. But it did seem to me that perhaps Nathaniel seemed a little too devout, a little too intent on Cullen’s promotion. Such devotion isn’t unusual from petitioners but there was something else I just couldn’t put my finger on, so I gave him the usual assurances. According to Catholic doctrine, all deceased Christians are saints. My job is merely to make sure that there is no doubt of Cullen’s sanctity. This would insure that the Vatican could not be wrong if that sanctity were recognized and Cullen was beatified.

As I sent Nathaniel away, I asked Quinn if perhaps Cullen had any notes at all still laying around. He answered me that no notes would be found because Cullen rarely wrote anything down. Even the sermons he preached were inspired by the Holy Spirit on the spot. I asked him again if there could be anything at all, and he said he would keep his eyes open.

Tuesday, January 15, 1985

Doctor Park called me late last night and asked me to meet her at the hospital morgue today. It seems that the other doctors were willing to help determine the cause of death free of charge if only they could ask me some questions about life in the Vatican. I admitted I could only answer questions regarding the Congregation for the Causes of the Saints and perhaps some other groups in the Roman Curia. They seemed thrilled nonetheless.

Most people, especially Americans, seem to hold a certain romantic interest in obscure Vatican offices. Too many people assume that because they themselves have not heard of the Congregation that it must be a secret organization. And in these days, in the wake of Hollywood movies and bestselling fiction novels, that usually results in me being a member of the Templar Knights, the Masons, the Illuminati, or some other secret society. I usually respond that if I were a member of a worldwide conspiracy, then surely I would have something better to do than waste my time investigating the lives of dead men. The deceased are useless to any conspiracy, I tell them.

But doctors are, of course, well-educated people and not inclined to ignorance. Some of them were even Catholic, or at least raised Catholic. But, like most people, they had some curiosity regarding the beatification process. I answered their questions in turn, even after I had already received the answer to my own question.

The doctors had easily determined James Cullen’s cause of death. I was right to be suspicious of the appearance of his body, for he had not died of natural causes at all. The white spots and pale skin were a telltale sign of arsenic poisoning, likely from several well-concentrated doses. But that knowledge alone is unsatisfying and it leaves me with another mystery: who killed him? And why? I suddenly feel a little like a detective, an investigator of a different type. I feel excited and afraid, for I know not whether I should contact the police or keep this information to myself. Part of me wants to be dramatic and run off in search of my suspect. But I have no suspect, only suspicions. And in any case, I am no hero. I think tomorrow I had better go to church and pray for guidance. Then on Thursday I will go back to Walpole and see if I can uncover the truth about James Cullen.

Thursday, January 17, 1985

I went again to Walpole Prison to interview Quinn and inquire if he had discovered anything written by Cullen. Quinn was ignorant as of yet regarding the autopsy results and I thought I could try to determine if perhaps he or anyone else had poisoned Cullen and why. But when I arrived at the prison chaplaincy, I discovered Quinn half-conscious and half-in-prayer, head face-down on his desk. I sat on the other side of the desk and I could see there were two books in front of him. One of them was an ancient King James Version of the Holy Bible, held together with wooden covers and several kinds of tape. The other was an aged but well-preserved copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray.

I felt my insides turn themselves around as I sat down opposite him. I knew I needed to ask nothing, for he would tell me everything he knew. The chaplain looked up at me and I looked into his eyes, fearful and sad. I knew here, the truth would out itself. I have never heard confession but at that moment I felt like a great sin was about to be revealed to me. I prayed for patience and after many minutes of silence, he finally spoke. He told me that earlier today he had forgotten his own Bible at home and remembered that Cullen’s old Bible was still in the desk. When he opened it, he recalled my request that anything Cullen had written might be relevant. On the inside cover he had found, in Cullen’s handwriting, the words, “I can resist everything except temptation.” This had a familiar tone to it and eventually he remembered the author of the quote. There was only one Oscar Wilde book in the library and it was rarely borrowed by the inmates.

On the inside cover, written like a dedication, he had found a letter, also in Cullen’s handwriting. The words, he said, seemed to imply that his senior, his friend and teacher, had anticipated his own death. I realized then that the autopsy results were merely confirmation of the hypothesis Quinn had already worked out. The late Reverend Cullen could never be sainted, for he had committed suicide, an unforgivable sin.

Who the letter is directed to is not my business, but I include a copy of it here for posterity. And I hope and pray that that the spirit of James Cullen has found peace.