When Satan Wore a Cross Read Online Free PDF Page A

was in the hospital overnight. Like any good parent, she had stayed with her daughter, to be near her side. Despite what little sleep the hospital couches supplied, by morning she was exhausted. Going down to the cafeteria, she was at the cashier purchasing a wake-up coffee.
    “Something’s wrong in the chapel!” someone screamed.
    Johnson looked over. It was a woman who had just run in from the corridor outside. What happened next was pure mob mentality. Everyone but Johnson ran for the door at once. Johnson waited until the rush died down, long enough to notice a man, about five-six, 140 pounds, light complexion, perhaps Mexican, in his early twenties, curly dark hair, wearing a hospital-type jacket with dark clothing underneath. He stood there with a frightened look on his face. The description, of course, could fit every second worker in the hospital who was Hispanic or light-skinned black.
    At about that moment, coming down the connecting passageway to the chapel, was Sister Kathleen. Outside the chapel, Sister Kathleen saw Sister Phyllis in the doorway. There were people crowding around inside.
    “What happened, Sister?” Sister Kathleen asked, suddenly feeling anxious.
    “Sister Margaret has been murdered and possibly raped,” Phyllis replied with a calm she really didn’t feel.
    “Damn it!” said Kathleen under her breath.
    Kathleen ignored several members of the Emergency Medical Team who came running down the chapel aisle, and just kept going. Kathleen came into the narrow room close behind them and saw the body of Sister Margaret Ann on the floor. Father Swiatecki stood to her left. He was uncorking a small vial of olive oil blessed two days before at Holy Thursday’s Mass by Bishop Donovan himself.
    Since Margaret Ann’s birth, one of the changes in the Church dealt with the sacrament of extreme unction. “Extreme,” of course, meant the dire circumstances under which the sacrament was given—impending death. “Unction” means oil. Under Vatican II, the sacrament became known as anointing the sick.
    Under the old Church rules before Vatican II, the last rites—this included extreme unction, the Holy Eucharist, and penance—were given to those close to death. Vatican II changed that so that the so-called last rites could be commonly given not just to those facing death, but to those who were sick and needed the power of Christ to help them heal. For Margaret Ann, though, it was too late.
    “Through this holy anointing, may the Lord in his love and mercy help you with the grace of the Holy Spirit,” said Father Swiatecki.
    The big priest dabbed his finger quickly on the bottle’s neck, getting it wet with the holy oil. Then he made the sign of the cross on the cooling skin of Margaret Ann’s forehead. At that moment, the police didn’t know it, but they got a big break. For some reason, he took particular care not to touch the bloodstain on her forehead.
    Looking up, Father Swiatecki noticed Sister Kathleen.
    “Come stand near me,” he invited Kathleen.
    Doing as Father asked, Kathleen proceeded to step over Margaret Ann’s cooling body. She stood next to Swiatecki. He was using the oil to anoint Margaret Ann’s hands. He then repeated the ancient prescription meant to remind all Catholics they die with Christ so that they may live again through him.
    “May the Lord who frees you from sin, save you and raise you up.”
    “Amen.”
    Margaret Ann’s life, which began seventy years and 364 days earlier in an Edgerton, Ohio, farmhouse, ended on the cold marble floor of that Toledo church.
    Suddenly Father Gerald Robinson, the hospital’s head priest, appeared in the chapel. Swiatecki saw him, came and stood over him. Robinson was a stocky, handsome man, but the larger priest menacingly dwarfed him.
    “Why did you kill her?” Swiatecki demanded.
    Before Robinson could reply, Swiatecki asked for the second time in the presence of witnesses, “Why did you kill her?”
     
    In the