“He was there when those people were murdered?” “That, I cannot say.” “He reported them?” The priest said nothing. Having finished the carrot, I got up and walked over to him. “To whom?” “The diocesan bishop.” “And what happened?” “I don’t know, but I assume it was covered by the priest-penitent privilege and nothing was done.” He shook his head, looking up at me. “I do know that Father Pietro was transferred and spent the rest of his life in penance at a monastery in Idaho where he slowly lost his mind.
