The Fanatic
As the second decade of the twenty-first century drew to a close, a growing number of discontented young men and women searched for a different sound, a new style of music that spoke of their world and their time. The popular music of the previous three decades was losing its appeal. Its lyrics had grown progressively more obscene, more violent and less relevant. With racial intolerance, war, terrorism, murder and bloodshed so prevalent in their society, young people looked to their music to offer a means of escape.
From out of this chaos emerged Darius Fawkes, a young singer and guitarist from Shropshire, England who burst onto the music scene with an impact that was equaled only by the Beatles more than half a century earlier. Fawkes's music centered upon a simple, optimistic message: world peace and brotherly love, concepts that seemed to have died with the late John Lennon.
Although Darius's recordings were mostly remakes of early rock 'n' roll classics such as the Beatles' "All You Need is Love," Peter, Paul and Mary's "Blowing in the Wind" and the Byrds' "Turn, Turn, Turn," to his young audience they were as fresh as virgin snow. Thus, the new generation was able to find inspiration in the music of their great-grandparents.
Coby Lomax had a childhood straight out of a Charles Dickens novel. His father had been an alcoholic, and his mother suffered from frequent bouts of depression during which she would lock herself behind her bedroom door and leave her son to take care of himself. When Coby was not cooking, cleaning, doing his homework or trying to earn money by working several low-paying, part-time jobs, he went to church.
St. Timothy's became his refuge. He helped Father Stephano tend to the graveyard, and he frequently accompanied the priest on his weekly visits to the hospital and the home for the elderly. Most of all, Coby enjoyed going to choir practice, for the beautiful hymns sung at St. Timothy's gave him hope for the future.
"Father, why did you become a priest?" Coby asked one day while he and the older man were checking to see that Bibles and hymnals were placed in each pew.
"That's not an easy question for me to answer. I suppose it's because I have always felt that God blessed me, and I wanted to show my appreciation by giving something back."
"Do you think that I would make a good priest?" Coby asked hesitantly.
"It's too soon to tell. Entering the priesthood is a lifetime commitment. You'll have to sacrifice much, but you will be rewarded for your devotion. Don't worry about it now. You're still a boy. Once you've become a man, ask yourself if that is what you want. Until then, however, I can always use your help around St. Timothy's."
The priest leaned over and tussled the boy's hair. Coby smiled. Father Stephano was like family. Better, in fact. His mother and father had never been as good to him.
* * *
After graduating from Passaic Valley High School, Coby enrolled in Vanderbilt University to study theology. Father Stephano helped him obtain a scholarship and also arranged for him to work part-time with a local businessman. On his mentor's advice, Coby agreed to put off his decision concerning the priesthood until he had completed college.
"You don't think I'll make a good priest, do you?" he asked Father Stephano during a moment of self-doubt.
"That's not true. I think you would be an excellent priest, but it's important that you realize what you would be giving up."
"You mean women, don't you? Well, I'm not in the least bit interested in getting married and having children."
Father Stephano nodded with understanding. Coby's opinion of marriage and family life had been tainted by his own unhappy childhood. Little did the young man realize that not all families were as dysfunctional as his own.
"I have the benefit of age and experience," the priest said sagely. "I have known many a young man eagerly enter the seminary full of religious faith, dedication and idealism. Then, after twenty years or so, that same man, no longer young, is plagued with doubts, drinking heavily and wondering if he wouldn't have been better off if he had selected a more conventional way of life."
"That won't be me," Coby promised with the passionate conviction of youth. "The only thing in the world I want is to be a priest like you."
* * *
On weekends Coby worked at Whelan's Hardware Store where Elmira Whelan, the owner's sixteen-year-old daughter, worked as a cashier. A quiet, rather plain-looking girl, Elmira had a secret crush on the handsome college student. One Saturday, she found the courage to invite him to the church dance. Coby, who felt a brotherly affection for the young cashier, agreed to go.
"I have to warn you," he laughed. "I don't know how to dance."
"That's all right. We'll just listen to the music then."
Since the dance was sponsored by the church and held in the gymnasium of the Holy Spirit Parochial School, the hired deejay decided to forego more objectionable songs and play a selection of country-and-western hits, instrumentals and jazz numbers. Then he chose something sure to please the teenage crowd.
"Okay, guys and gals," he said, "here's one you'll all love."
Coby, who rarely listened to music except for the hymns sung by St. Timothy's choir, was captivated when he heard Darius Fawkes's version of George Harrison's 1970 hit, "My Sweet Lord."
"Who's that singing?" he asked Elmira.
She looked at him with surprise.
"You've never heard Darius Fawkes? You must be kidding! He's the hottest singer in the world right now."
"Are all his songs about religion?"
"No, but they all have a positive message. And you won't hear the 'F' word in any of his lyrics. He's the only rock star my parents don't object to. In fact, my mother sometimes sings along with Darius's songs when I play them."
"Do you have a collection of his works?" Coby asked excitedly.
"I have about a dozen or so of his songs on my playlist. Would you like to come over to my house after work tomorrow and listen to them?" Elmira asked hopefully.
"Can I?"
"Yeah, sure. Why don't you come over for dinner? I'm sure my mother won't mind."
The lyrics proclaiming peace, brotherhood, love and freedom appealed to Coby's yearning for spiritual perfection. By the end of the evening, he had become a huge fan of the British rocker, and for the first time in his life, Coby felt devotion to something other than the Catholic Church.
* * *
"You've got to hear his music, Father," Coby declared, putting a memory stick into the priest's car stereo. As the two men drove to the senior citizens home for their monthly visit, they listened to Darius Fawkes's lyrics.
"C'mon people now, smile on your brother. Everybody get together. Try to love one another right now." 1
"I remember that song," the priest recalled nostalgically. "My grandparents had a collection of old vinyl records, and from time to time they would play them for me. I think they were hippies when they were younger."
"Hippies?"
Coby was not familiar with the word.
"It's a name given to a group of young people back in the 1960s and '70s who preached things like 'make love, not war.'"
"What church did they preach for?"
Father Stephano laughed.
"There was no church. It wasn't a religious doctrine. Rather than the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, the hippies openly worshipped drugs, sex and rock 'n' roll."
"Your grandparents were like that?" Coby asked, horrified.
"They weren't quite that bad. You must remember that it was a time of great civil unrest. Vietnam was an unpopular war, and many young people protested against it."
"It's funny how these old songs apply to our world today."
"The desire for peace is a timeless concept. I'm sure that as long as there have been wars, there must have been people who longed to bring an end to them."
"If I had been alive back in your grandparents' day, I would have been a hippie, too," Coby confidently replied. Then he added sheepishly, "Except for the drugs and sex bit, that is."
The fact that Coby Lomax became a proponent of peace and love was not at all surprising. His alcoholic father and emotionally troubled mother had many bitter arguments that were witnessed by their young, impressionable son. Those were the same fights that had sent the boy running into the welcoming arms of the Church.
Meanwhile, Darius Fawkes's popularity continued to snowball. With each new recording, live performance and television appearance he made, his fan base grew. Only the likes of Elvis Presley and the Beatles had ever claimed such a large, faithful following. Once he gained worldwide recognition, the rocker began to put his popularity to good advantage. Like many performers before him, he routinely donated his valuable time to appear in special benefit performances.
His desire to do good went beyond singing for charity. One year, during a heated presidential race, Darius was approached by several candidates to sing at political rallies.
"Why should I support a candidate who might not keep his promises after the election is over?" Darius asked during one of his sold-out concerts. "Politicians have been making and breaking promises for centuries."
A thunderous cheer went up from the audience, not that the horde of fans necessarily agreed with their idol's comments. They would have cheered as loudly for him had Darius recited Coleridge's The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.
"If anyone should run for political office, it's me."
When Coby heard the news, he shared it with his friend, Father Stephano.
"Can you imagine that?" he asked excitedly. "With Darius Fawkes leading the country, it could mean a permanent end to war."
"He can't be president," the priest told him. "He's not an American citizen."
"I know. Darius is a citizen of the world. His fans span the globe. British. American. Russian. Chinese. What does it matter, anyway? There's no need for barriers between people. It's like he says in his new song,
"Imagine there's no countries. It isn't hard to do. Nothing to kill or die for. And no religion, too. Imagine all the people living life in peace." 2
"I know that song," the priest said. "It was written and sung by a man named John Lennon. He was an idealist, just like you and Darius. He was shot to death on the streets of New York."
The young man shook his head.
"The world has always been a violent place, but this is a new generation. If we try, we can make a difference."
"I hope so, Coby. I really do."
* * *
Father Stephano's trembling hand reached for the volume knob of his radio. Had he heard the newscaster correctly? Yes, he had. Rock star and political activist Darius Fawkes was dead—shot and killed by a fan as he exited the studio where he had just finished a recording session.
It's like John Lennon all over again, the elderly priest thought sadly. Why is it, I wonder, that so many men who cry out for peace and brotherhood are silenced by a bullet?
Suddenly, the father's thoughts shifted from the murdered rock singer to his young friend, Coby Lomax. How was he taking the news? Not too well probably, considering how he idolized Fawkes.
Father Stephano tried phoning Coby's home, but there was no answer there, so he tried Whelan's Hardware Store and finally the Whelan house, where he spoke with Elmira.
"I haven't seen him, Father. I was hoping that you might know where he is," she said.
"No, I don't. But if I hear from him, I'll let you know."
Later that day, Father Stephano received word from Coby.
"They told me I could make one telephone call. I didn't know who else to contact."
As improbable as it seemed, Coby had been arrested and charged with the murder of Darius Fawkes.
* * *
The trial of Coby Lomax became a media circus that equaled that of the O.J. Simpson trial. The defense attorney, Vidal Bayard, a young lawyer who took the case pro bono in hopes of making a name for himself with the high-profile case, claimed his client was innocent by reason of insanity. His defense strategy revolved around the verbal and alleged physical abuse Coby suffered as a child. Witnesses testified to his father's drinking problems and his mother's precarious mental state. Finally, the lawyer called Father Stephano to the stand.
"When did the defendant first tell you of his desire to become a priest?" Bayard asked.
"When he was about twelve or thirteen years old, I believe."
"Is it normal for a boy that age to want to join the priesthood?"
"Objection," the prosecutor shouted out. "The witness is not a psychiatrist."
"Sustained," the judge ruled.
"Let me rephrase that. In your experience at St. Timothy's and previous churches, how many other boys that age have told you that they wanted to become priests?"
"None," the father answered uncomfortably.
It was clear that the defense attorney was inferring that a boy who wanted to become a priest was not quite right in the head. That was not an idea with which the Catholic Church would agree.
"You were very close to the defendant, weren't you, Father?"
"Yes, I was."
"How close were you, exactly?"
"He was like a son to me."
"And during the course of your so-called fatherly relationship, did you express any physical affection for the boy?"
The prosecutor jumped up again.
"Objection, your honor."
"Your honor," the defense attorney protested, "in light of the overwhelming number of documented cases of inappropriate conduct between Catholic priests and the young children of their parishes, I don't think this question is out of line."
The judge considered the matter for a moment and then overruled the prosecutor's objection.
"I repeat, Father, in your relationship with Coby Lomax, did you express any physical affection for the boy?"
The priest turned red with embarrassment at the lawyer's implications.
"I have," he replied honestly, wishing the trial were over, "but only of the most innocent nature."
"Can you be more specific? For instance, did you ever put your arm around the boy?"
"I may have. Yes, I believe I have in the past put my arm around him."
"Did you ever kiss him?"
Father Stephano turned from red to white.
"No. I didn't."
Vidal then began to badger his own witness.
"Did you ever fondle him?"
"Never."
"Did the boy ever fondle you?"
"Certainly not!"
The priest was clearly upset. Never before had he been subjected to such humiliation, not only in front of the court but also in front of millions of television viewers.
The judge took pity on the elderly clergyman.
"I think you've exhausted this line of questioning, Mr. Bayard," he said. "I suggest you move on."
Vidal excused the priest and called young Elmira Whelan to the stand. He questioned her about Coby's fascination—or as he termed it, obsession—with Darius Fawkes and his music. He then asked her about her personal relationship with Coby. Poor, innocent Elmira was subjected to the same type of questioning that Father Stephano had just experienced. In tears, Elmira admitted that although she was attracted to Coby, he had never made any sexual advances toward her.
After Elmira's testimony, both the defense and the prosecution called their expert medical witnesses. The psychiatrists—as usual—differed in their opinions, leaving the jury to determine Coby's mental state themselves.
In his summation, Vidal Bayard painted a picture of a young boy abused by his parents. He again hinted at an inappropriate relationship between the defendant and Father Stephano. Finally, he hypothesized that Coby, an insecure young man who questioned his own sexuality, transferred his obsession from an intangible God to a living, breathing rock star.
"And then," the lawyer concluded, "when Darius Fawkes failed to live up to his exalted image, Coby Lomax believed he had no choice but to kill him."
* * *
For all his brilliant arguments and shrewd questioning, the ambitious defense attorney lost his case. The defendant was found guilty of first-degree murder and was sentenced to death by lethal injection. In this case, justice was surprisingly swift. Coby did not appeal the court's decision, and the date of his execution was set.
With a heavy heart, Father Stephano entered the penitentiary. He had received permission to accompany Coby down that legendary last mile, to stay with him during the execution and to administer last rites. But first, the priest was taken to Coby's cell where he would hear the young man's final confession.
"Hello, Father," Coby said softly.
It was the first time the priest was able to speak with his friend since the night the young man had been arrested. He didn't know what to expect. Would Coby be depressed, repentant, frightened or bitter? Father Stephano certainly had not been expecting the serene satisfaction the young man exhibited. Perhaps he was insane, after all.
The priest fought against his emotions and tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he sat on the cot beside Coby.
"Why did you do it?" he asked, more like an old friend than a confessor.
Coby shook his head.
"I've yet to tell anyone why."
"What about that story your lawyer told?"
"It was all his idea. Nothing but a pack of lies." Coby then added, "I'm sorry he put you through all that questioning. And Elmira, too. Could you tell her how sorry I am?"
The priest nodded. He had braced himself to hear the young man's confession, but suddenly he broke down and cried.
"Have I failed you in some way?"
In a reversal of roles, it was the condemned prisoner who comforted the man of God.
"No, Father. On the contrary, you were the only one I could ever count on. You were the family I never had."
His arms went around the older man and he hugged him with gratitude and child-like affection.
"Wouldn't my attorney love to have gotten a picture of this?" Coby laughed. "I guess it's time for my confession."
But it was not the usual litany of menial sins that Coby recited. He did not waste Father Stephano's time by admitting to having taken the Lord's name in vain or having failed to keep the Sabbath day holy. Coby Lomax got right to the point.
"I took a man's life," he said simply. "Killing him was not my idea. I had nothing against him. I was a fan of his, as you well know."
"Then why did you kill him?" Father Stephano repeated his earlier question.
"Because God told me to."
The puzzled priest stared at the young man, dumbfounded.
"I didn't speak to God directly. It was the angel he sent to me who gave me the command."
Father Stephano swallowed, realizing that Coby was insane!
"You didn't tell the police or your attorney this, did you?"
"No. As I said earlier, I've told no one."
Coby looked into the priest's eyes and saw the doubt there.
"I know what you're thinking, Father: that what I have just told you is a more convincing argument for my insanity than the one my lawyer presented in court."
"Do you honestly believe God sent an angel to command you to kill Darius Fawkes?"
Coby nodded.
"But why?" the priest demanded to know. "What reason would he have?"
"Darius was getting quite a following by calling for peace and love, but he was the ultimate liar. What he wanted was to create anarchy and eventually Armageddon."
How can I argue with such insane logic? the priest wondered.
"You see, Father," Coby continued, "the angel of God told me who Darius Fawkes really was. He was the Antichrist."
When Coby saw only disbelief and pity on Father Stephano's face, he fell silent. He should have known that no one, not even his closest friend, would believe him.
* * *
The hour of the execution arrived. The witnesses were seated in the viewing room, anxious to have the unpleasant affair over and done with so that they could go about their normal routines. Coby Lomax was brought into the room and told to lie on the table. A prison guard strapped his legs down. Before the other guard could secure his arms, Coby reached over and shook the priest's hand.
"Goodbye, Father. Thank you for all you have done for me over the years. I know you don't believe what I told you during confession, but I spoke the truth."
The condemned man then reclined on the table. Father Stephano bowed his head and prayed for the immortal soul of the young man he had loved like a son. As the lethal injection was administered, the priest looked not at Coby's arm but at his face. What he saw turned his slightly graying hair white.
In the final moments of the prisoner's short-lived life, a golden aura, or halo, formed above his head. His young friend had not been insane, the priest realized at last. Coby Lomax, the unhappy young boy who had sought sanctuary within the walls of St. Timothy's, who had wanted to become a priest and dedicate his life to serving God, had become a martyr to his faith, chosen by the Almighty to destroy the Antichrist and thus preserve his kingdom on Earth.
1"Get Together" © Chet Powers.
2"Imagine" © Yoko Ono, Sean Ono Lennon and Julian Lennon.
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