“They murdered my son.”
I open my eyes.
Arthur wraps his arms around his head and he starts to cry.
“Project’s clean,” Paul tells me.
I stand in the corner of his office with my arms crossed while he stands at his window staring at the dismal scene outside. Figures one of the rare times he’d allow himself the pleasure, there’s nothing there worth looking at. He turns from the window and settles at his desk, his eyes fixed on his computer screen, hands over the keyboard. Usually, I take the hint—conversation over, get back to work—but I’m off the clock and I’m not leaving this building again until I know everything there is to know about Jeremy Lewis’s involvement with The Unity Project.
“It’s a fucking cult, Paul.”
“So is the Catholic Church,” he replies without looking at me. “And you’re not the first person to say that about The Project. I took this as far as I could take it, Denham. I spent the last month digging in, connecting with their reps and talking to anyone and everyone tied to them—”
“You talked to Lev Warren?”
Paul frowns, but keeps his eyes on his monitor. Lev Warren hasn’t spoken to the press since a 2011 interview with Vice. The magazine (allegedly) failed to disclose their feature would be part of a larger series on cults: Rising social movement or emerging cult? Everything you need to know about seminary dropout Lev Warren, The Unity Project, and its divine mission to save us from ourselves. Vice’s verdict: the potential was there.
When the story ran, The Project immediately released a statement that they’d been interviewed under false pretenses and Lev would no longer grant any media requests. Two weeks later, he was back in the news for a different reason:
Talking down a jumper from the Mills Bridge.
It was a three-hour ordeal, shaky phone footage uploaded to YouTube as it happened alongside live coverage on TV. Lev was identified about twenty-four hours in. The Unity Project’s website and the Vice piece competed for top result on all related searches of Lev’s name, exposing an untold amount of people to Warren’s New Theory of Atonement and Redemption, which posits the sins of humanity have cut us off from God’s grace, and the collective good works of The Project will atone for our sins and bring salvation to the ends of the earth.
The SEO keyword showdown was practically an invitation to the public to decide what they wanted to believe, but ultimately the viral clip of Lev’s retreating figure as he eschewed all recognition and walked off the bridge into a crowd of people like he, himself, was anyone, made the more compelling case.
Since then, Lev’s kept to his mystery while The Project’s work does all the talking. Anyone who wants to hear him speak can go to his annual public sermon or become a member. Needless to say, if Paul landed an interview with Lev now, SVO could feast on it for a while.
“I’m telling you what I told Arthur: there’s nothing to even remotely suggest they had any involvement with Jeremy’s death.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“I told you to go home, Denham.”
I pull a chair away from the wall, placing it directly across from his desk, and sit. He sighs and finally relents, swiveling from his screen to give me his full attention.
“Fine. Let’s take a look at The Unity Project.” His tone suggests he’s doing me a favor. He turns back to his computer, opens up a document and starts reading his notes. “Active in Morel, Bellwood and Chapman. They have twenty-four/seven drop-in shelters in each city. These shelters also run The Unity Connection, pairing people in need with Project-affiliated services, programs or professional advocates best suited to help them navigate their particular situation—various fresh start programs, youth and adult mentorships, support programs for at-risk youth, domestic violence survivors, addicts, counseling and legal aid, it goes on … not to mention the regular food drives, clothing drives and various fundraising efforts for non-Project charities … people go to that annual sermon at the Garrett Farm and they come out and they want to make the world a better place. What bad can you say about something like that?”
“They think Lev Warren has the spiritual authority to redeem mankind—”
“Through acts of service and community outreach. Wanna know what they’re up to right now? At this very second? They’re mobilizing aid for Puerto Rico.”
“You a fan or a member, Paul?”
“Neither, but you think I’m gonna throw a murder accusation at one of the most beloved groups this side of New York without a single ounce of proof to back it up?” Paul asks. “More to the point: nobody pushed Jeremy. Lev Warren’s known for talking people down, not off.”
“There are a lot of ways you can push somebody.”
“Then you’re saying I missed something, which means you think I don’t know how to do my job,” he returns and my face burns. “Okay, I’ll bite. Arthur, I understand. His son’s dead. He wants justice and he’s got one place he can point a finger. What’s your stake, Denham?”
I stare at my hands and curl my fingers, stopping just shy of making a fist. I think of the boy from The Unity Project crushed under the weight of a train.
The dead boy from The Unity Project who knew Bea—
“Denham.”
And me.
“I was there.”
“What?”
I make myself look at him.
“I was at the train station when it happened.”
He frowns. “When Jeremy—”
“I saw him die, Paul.”
He processes it slowly. The longer he takes, the more I feel it.
“Christ, Denham…”
“Yeah,” I say stupidly. “It was horrible.”
Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes. I swipe at my face, but I can’t seem to get ahead of them. Paul gets to his feet and crosses the room. The gentle trickle of water sounds from the cooler he keeps in the corner of his office and a second later, he nudges me. I take the paper cup he’s offering without looking him in the eyes.
He sits back down. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”
“Because it wouldn’t have changed anything.”
“So what changes it now?”
I set the water on his desk, my throat too tight to drink it.
“There was something he said before he died.”
“To you?”
“Sort of … at anyone. I was close.”
Paul hesitates. “What did he say?”
“Whoever will lose his life for my sake will find it.” It’s eerie, hearing the words in my voice. Even with the absence of any conviction behind them, they’re intensely unsettling. Paul closes his eyes briefly, overwhelmed by them too. “It’s a Bible verse. Where do you think Jeremy would’ve heard that?”
“Denham—”
I lean forward. “You should’ve told me you were digging into this because I could’ve told you what I knew sooner.”
“First of all, I was doing a favor for a friend. One that required me to tread very, very carefully,” he says sharply. “And second of all, Denham, I’m working a lot of beats I’m not telling you about. Some stories require more discretion than others. You know what you need to know when you need to know it.”