“Those of you don’t know me, I’m Abe Madden,” he said, and there was another little ripple of movement. “I know that some of you blame me for not realizing sooner that those boys were being killed. Maybe, like some of you think, I let what I wanted get in the way of what I should. I wanted those boys to be okay, just out sowing a few wild oats. I should have been looking harder for them, asking harder questions. Some in my own department told me that.” He might have been looking at the current sheriff when he said that. “Some in my department thought I was right. Well, we know now I was wrong, and I ask your forgiveness for a great mistake I made. I was your servant while I was in office, and I let you down.” And he went back to his seat.

I’d never heard anything like that before. What it must have cost the man in pride to do that…I couldn’t even imagine. Tolliver was less impressed. “Now he’s confessed and asked for forgiveness,” he whispered. “Can’t anyone point fingers at him anymore; he’s paid his debt.”

A member of each family spoke, some briefly, some at length, but I heard very little fire and brimstone. I expected some homophobic stuff, given the nature of the murders, but I didn’t hear any. The anger was directed at the rape, not at the sexual preference of the rapist. Only two family members spoke of vengeance, and then only in terms of the law catching the responsible party. There was no lynch talk, no fist shaking. Grief and relief.

The last speaker said, “At least now we know this is at an end. No more of our sons will die.” At that, I saw a sudden movement in the Bernardos’ pew. Manfred was gripping Xylda by the arm, and her face was turned toward his. She looked angry and urgent. But after a few seconds, she subsided.