Stella’s mother died of pneumonia and the state had taken the baby.
As she grew older she spent most of her time in the library, reading and watching movies. It was not nuns who had made her read both the Old and New Testament over and over. It was Stella herself.
Some of the air of confidence had seeped out of Joshua as he returned the book to his pocket. For an instant he looked like a boy, a frightened boy braving it out. Stella nodded at Aiden, who looked down at the report in front of her.
“Your name is not Joshua. It’s Warner Peavey,” Aiden said. “Your father wasn’t a rabbi. He was a Baptist minister in Rock Island, Illinois. You’re not even Jewish. As Warner Peavey, you do have three arrests on record. Did two years in Attica for armed robbery.”
“I am Jewish,” Joshua insisted. “I converted to Reform Judaism and then to Messianic Judaism. Most Messianic congregations don’t believe you can be a Jew for Jesus unless you are born Jewish. Like Jesus, I was shunned by my faith. Did you know that anyone with Jewish parents is given the right to return to Israel as a citizen, even atheists and humanists, but not us? So here I am and here I and my congregation will grow in the heart of Crown Heights, and within these walls and in Yeshua’s eyes, I am a rabbi.”
“Circumcised?” asked Stella dryly.
“We don’t require that,” said Joshua. “All those things you have written there are the darkness of Warner Peavey. He was reborn five years ago as the person you see before you, Joshua, second to Moses; he who led the Israelites into the promised land when God told Moses he couldn’t enter. It was Joshua who fought and defeated the armies of the people in the promised land. Joshua who brought down the walls of Jericho.”
“You own a gun?” asked Stella flatly.
“No,” said Joshua.
“You’re left-handed,” said Aiden.
“Yes,” said Joshua.
Stella pushed a photograph in front of him. It showed the left side of Asher Glick’s body and the chalk outline. Joshua looked at it and shrugged.
“Look at the chalk marks,” said Stella.
Joshua looked down again and then up.
“The crucifix is not one continuous line,” said Stella. “The killer paused every three feet or so. See how the chalk line is less heavy and tails off slightly to the left?”
“No,” said Joshua.
“The nails,” said Stella. “They’re through the hands and feet and deep into the hard wood. I hammered a nail in. I didn’t get it very deep and I wasn’t going through flesh. It took someone strong to drive them in like that.”
Joshua was mute.
“And,” said Stella, “the medical examiner called us just before we came down here. The nails were driven in at a slight angle from left to right.”
Joshua waited.
“So the killer was left-handed,” said Joshua. “So are millions. So was Christ. I can show you proof in the Bible.”
“Medical examiner also said whoever shot Glick knew what he was doing,” said Aiden. “Two shots from behind, perfectly placed, like an assassination.”
“Proving?” Joshua asked.
Stella looked down at the sheet in front of her and said, “You’ve had a busy life.”
Joshua shrugged.
“When you left your parents, you did time for holding up a convenience store,” she said.
“I was falling,” Joshua said. “Like so many of the saints, I had to go to the depths before I raised myself up with the help of the Lord. How can one expect salvation without experiencing sin?”
“Your congregation knows you were in prison?” asked Aiden.
“Yes.”
“When you got out,” said Stella, “you became an apprentice to a carpenter.”
“Humbly in the footsteps of Jesus, who never renounced his Jewish identity,” said Joshua.
“Then,” Stella continued, “you joined a Messianic temple.”
“A gathering of the timid, the cowardly,” said Joshua. “They didn’t even turn the other cheek. They never stood up to let the first cheek be struck. I left them
As she grew older she spent most of her time in the library, reading and watching movies. It was not nuns who had made her read both the Old and New Testament over and over. It was Stella herself.
Some of the air of confidence had seeped out of Joshua as he returned the book to his pocket. For an instant he looked like a boy, a frightened boy braving it out. Stella nodded at Aiden, who looked down at the report in front of her.
“Your name is not Joshua. It’s Warner Peavey,” Aiden said. “Your father wasn’t a rabbi. He was a Baptist minister in Rock Island, Illinois. You’re not even Jewish. As Warner Peavey, you do have three arrests on record. Did two years in Attica for armed robbery.”
“I am Jewish,” Joshua insisted. “I converted to Reform Judaism and then to Messianic Judaism. Most Messianic congregations don’t believe you can be a Jew for Jesus unless you are born Jewish. Like Jesus, I was shunned by my faith. Did you know that anyone with Jewish parents is given the right to return to Israel as a citizen, even atheists and humanists, but not us? So here I am and here I and my congregation will grow in the heart of Crown Heights, and within these walls and in Yeshua’s eyes, I am a rabbi.”
“Circumcised?” asked Stella dryly.
“We don’t require that,” said Joshua. “All those things you have written there are the darkness of Warner Peavey. He was reborn five years ago as the person you see before you, Joshua, second to Moses; he who led the Israelites into the promised land when God told Moses he couldn’t enter. It was Joshua who fought and defeated the armies of the people in the promised land. Joshua who brought down the walls of Jericho.”
“You own a gun?” asked Stella flatly.
“No,” said Joshua.
“You’re left-handed,” said Aiden.
“Yes,” said Joshua.
Stella pushed a photograph in front of him. It showed the left side of Asher Glick’s body and the chalk outline. Joshua looked at it and shrugged.
“Look at the chalk marks,” said Stella.
Joshua looked down again and then up.
“The crucifix is not one continuous line,” said Stella. “The killer paused every three feet or so. See how the chalk line is less heavy and tails off slightly to the left?”
“No,” said Joshua.
“The nails,” said Stella. “They’re through the hands and feet and deep into the hard wood. I hammered a nail in. I didn’t get it very deep and I wasn’t going through flesh. It took someone strong to drive them in like that.”
Joshua was mute.
“And,” said Stella, “the medical examiner called us just before we came down here. The nails were driven in at a slight angle from left to right.”
Joshua waited.
“So the killer was left-handed,” said Joshua. “So are millions. So was Christ. I can show you proof in the Bible.”
“Medical examiner also said whoever shot Glick knew what he was doing,” said Aiden. “Two shots from behind, perfectly placed, like an assassination.”
“Proving?” Joshua asked.
Stella looked down at the sheet in front of her and said, “You’ve had a busy life.”
Joshua shrugged.
“When you left your parents, you did time for holding up a convenience store,” she said.
“I was falling,” Joshua said. “Like so many of the saints, I had to go to the depths before I raised myself up with the help of the Lord. How can one expect salvation without experiencing sin?”
“Your congregation knows you were in prison?” asked Aiden.
“Yes.”
“When you got out,” said Stella, “you became an apprentice to a carpenter.”
“Humbly in the footsteps of Jesus, who never renounced his Jewish identity,” said Joshua.
“Then,” Stella continued, “you joined a Messianic temple.”
“A gathering of the timid, the cowardly,” said Joshua. “They didn’t even turn the other cheek. They never stood up to let the first cheek be struck. I left them
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