"The killings had to be," Juan choked. His hand was shaking and he clutched Norberto's fingers harder. "But… I am truly sorry for them."

Norberto shut his eyes. His teeth were locked and trembling, his hand unresponsive to Juan's touch. Yet he fought the urge to drop this hand that had snuffed out Adolfo's life. As much as he was a grieving brother he was also a father ordained in the sight of God.

"Father-" Juan coughed. "Help… me to say… the words."

Norberto drew air through his teeth. It is not necessary that I forgive him. Forgiveness is the province of God.

The priest opened his eyes and glared down at the bruised face and broken body sprawled before him. "Father, forgive me my transgressions," Norberto said coldly, "for which I am truly repentant."

"I… repent," Juan rasped. "I… repent… truly." Juan shut his eyes. His breath came in short gasps.

"Sins forgiven are removed from the soul, restoring the sinner to a state of sanctifying grace," Norberto said. "May God forgive you your trespasses and deliver you unto salvation."

Juan's lips parted slowly. There was a short sigh. Then there was nothing more.

Norberto continued to stare down at the dead man. Juan's hand was cold. Blood continued to trickle from his chest and cheek.

Norberto could not justify or forgive what this man had done. But Adolfo had gone fishing in a sea where the prey fight back. If Juan had not slain his brother then someone else would have. Tears filled Norberto's eyes. He should have stopped it with Adolfo.

If only he had known about his brother's other life. If only he'd been less harsh then perhaps Adolfo wouldn't have been afraid to come to him. Why did he let him go out that night? Why didn't he stay with him when he went to deliver that audiotape, the tape that helped to start all of this. Why didn't I act when there was still time? And the worst punishment of all was that he had not been able to save his brother's soul-only that of his killer.

"Oh, God," Norberto said, letting his head roll back and tears fall freely. He set Juan's hand down beside his body and covered his own eyes.

As Father Norberto knelt there he felt Death leave-though it did not go very far. The priest forced himself to stop crying. This was not the time to mourn Adolfo or to damn his own failings. There were others who needed comfort or absolution-others who may have acted arrogantly in the bloom of life, only to find humility in the face of eternal damnation.

Father Norberto rose. He made the sign of the cross above Juan Martinez. "May God forgive you," he said softly.