hanging from one of the exposed beams in the ceiling.’
Selznick hanged himself with a bed sheet, Richardson stated, adding that his body had been taken to the mortuary for an autopsy. At the same time, she categorically denied rumours that when the body was found, it was nude and had been mutilated – rumours she characterized as ‘completely unfounded’. During the press con ference, reporters cited ‘eyewitnesses’ who stated that they had seen the mutilations. The spokeswoman replied that ‘a nurse who works for the County’s medical team was under the influence of marijuana and other drugs when those declarations were made’. This particular employee has been suspended from his job without pay until his case is resolved. This newspaper made contact with the nurse who started the rumour, but he refused to say anything other than a brief ‘I was wrong’.
The Bishop of Bridgeport, William Lopes, stated that he was ‘profoundly saddened’ by Selznick’s ‘tragic’ death, adding that the scandal presently preoccupying the North American branch of the Catholic Church has ‘many victims’.
Father Selznick was born in New York in 1938, and was ordained in Bridgeport in 1965. He served in various parishes in Connecticut and for a brief time worked as a priest at the parish of San Juan Vianney in Chiclayo, Peru.
‘Every person, without exception, has dignity and value in the eyes of God, and everyone needs and deserves our compassion,’ Lopes stated. ‘The disturbing circumstances that surround his death cannot eradicate all the good that he did in life,’ the Bishop said in conclu sion.
The Director of the Saint Matthew Institute, Father Canice Conroy, refused to speak to this publication. Father Anthony Fowler, director of new initiatives at the Institute, apologized for the absence of a state ment from the Director, explaining that Father Conroy was presently ‘in a state of shock’.
UACV Headquarters
Via Lamarmora,
Tuesday, 5 April 2005, 11.14 p.m.
Fowler’s declaration was like a shot to the solar plexus. Dicanti and Pontiero were frozen in their tracks. They stared at the priest. ‘May I sit down?’
‘There are plenty of empty seats,’ Paola said. ‘Take any one you
like.’
She made a sign to the employee from Documentation, who
quickly left the room.
Fowler laid his small black suitcase on the table, its edges scratched
and frayed. The suitcase had seen its fair share of the world and its
condition was a testament to the many miles it had travelled with its
owner. Fowler opened the case and took out a thick stack of papers
from a cardboard box, whose edges were bent and coffee-stained.
He set the papers on the table and sat down across from the inspector. Dicanti watched him carefully, noting his economy of movement and the energy radiating from his green eyes. The question
of where exactly this strange priest came from very much intrigued
her, but she made a firm decision not to let herself be overwhelmed,
particularly on her own turf.
Pontiero grabbed a seat, spun it around and sat to Fowler’s
left, his hands resting on the back. Dicanti made a mental note to
remind him to stop imitating old Bogart movies – her second-incommand must have watched The Maltese Falcon at least three
hundred times. If he considered someone suspicious, he inevitably
sat to their left, compulsively smoking one unfiltered Pall Mall after
another.
‘Go ahead, padre. But first show us something that proves you are
who you say you are.’
Fowler took his passport out of his breast pocket and handed it
to Pontiero, then grimaced, showing his displeasure at the cloud of
smoke billowing from Pontiero’s cigarette.
‘I see, I see – a diplomatic passport. So you have immunity, eh?
Who the hell are you? Some sort of spy?’
‘I am an official in the United States Air Force.’
‘What rank?’
‘Major. Would Detective Pontiero mind if I asked him to stop
smoking right next to me? I gave up years ago and have
Selznick hanged himself with a bed sheet, Richardson stated, adding that his body had been taken to the mortuary for an autopsy. At the same time, she categorically denied rumours that when the body was found, it was nude and had been mutilated – rumours she characterized as ‘completely unfounded’. During the press con ference, reporters cited ‘eyewitnesses’ who stated that they had seen the mutilations. The spokeswoman replied that ‘a nurse who works for the County’s medical team was under the influence of marijuana and other drugs when those declarations were made’. This particular employee has been suspended from his job without pay until his case is resolved. This newspaper made contact with the nurse who started the rumour, but he refused to say anything other than a brief ‘I was wrong’.
The Bishop of Bridgeport, William Lopes, stated that he was ‘profoundly saddened’ by Selznick’s ‘tragic’ death, adding that the scandal presently preoccupying the North American branch of the Catholic Church has ‘many victims’.
Father Selznick was born in New York in 1938, and was ordained in Bridgeport in 1965. He served in various parishes in Connecticut and for a brief time worked as a priest at the parish of San Juan Vianney in Chiclayo, Peru.
‘Every person, without exception, has dignity and value in the eyes of God, and everyone needs and deserves our compassion,’ Lopes stated. ‘The disturbing circumstances that surround his death cannot eradicate all the good that he did in life,’ the Bishop said in conclu sion.
The Director of the Saint Matthew Institute, Father Canice Conroy, refused to speak to this publication. Father Anthony Fowler, director of new initiatives at the Institute, apologized for the absence of a state ment from the Director, explaining that Father Conroy was presently ‘in a state of shock’.
UACV Headquarters
Via Lamarmora,
Tuesday, 5 April 2005, 11.14 p.m.
Fowler’s declaration was like a shot to the solar plexus. Dicanti and Pontiero were frozen in their tracks. They stared at the priest. ‘May I sit down?’
‘There are plenty of empty seats,’ Paola said. ‘Take any one you
like.’
She made a sign to the employee from Documentation, who
quickly left the room.
Fowler laid his small black suitcase on the table, its edges scratched
and frayed. The suitcase had seen its fair share of the world and its
condition was a testament to the many miles it had travelled with its
owner. Fowler opened the case and took out a thick stack of papers
from a cardboard box, whose edges were bent and coffee-stained.
He set the papers on the table and sat down across from the inspector. Dicanti watched him carefully, noting his economy of movement and the energy radiating from his green eyes. The question
of where exactly this strange priest came from very much intrigued
her, but she made a firm decision not to let herself be overwhelmed,
particularly on her own turf.
Pontiero grabbed a seat, spun it around and sat to Fowler’s
left, his hands resting on the back. Dicanti made a mental note to
remind him to stop imitating old Bogart movies – her second-incommand must have watched The Maltese Falcon at least three
hundred times. If he considered someone suspicious, he inevitably
sat to their left, compulsively smoking one unfiltered Pall Mall after
another.
‘Go ahead, padre. But first show us something that proves you are
who you say you are.’
Fowler took his passport out of his breast pocket and handed it
to Pontiero, then grimaced, showing his displeasure at the cloud of
smoke billowing from Pontiero’s cigarette.
‘I see, I see – a diplomatic passport. So you have immunity, eh?
Who the hell are you? Some sort of spy?’
‘I am an official in the United States Air Force.’
‘What rank?’
‘Major. Would Detective Pontiero mind if I asked him to stop
smoking right next to me? I gave up years ago and have
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