Chapter Two: The Flesh Beneath the Robes
They were men.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxv0kRtREOI
Long before they were priests, they were men.
And inside the whitewashed walls of the convent, when the incense faded and the faithful had gone home—the rituals became routine, and the temptations bled through.
Not every priest was corrupt.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2BXhIkGudv
But not every priest was clean.
Father Ely had long known this. He’d seen it too many times, especially in confession rooms that doubled as therapy booths for his fellow clergy. They came to him not just to confess—but to vent, to justify, to seek forgiveness without change.
“Forgive me, Father, for I slept with another sacristan. He said he was twenty—he wasn’t.”11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLiq40G2ePL
“Forgive me, Father, I took church money again. Just a little. For my dying mother. And a new iPhone.”11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8G94L2lJWd
“Forgive me, Father, I was in Solaire last night. Baccarat was flowing. So was the wine. I wore my collar under my jacket. It made the waitresses nervous.”
Some were secret drinkers.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡU1xxYPEQfT
Others had private Grindr accounts under fake names.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfzIWuDTWmE
A few kept women in apartments rented from the university funds.
They joked about it in whispers.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjKIbGiHOJH
Called themselves the "Brotherhood of Flesh."11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYTxuCWKogZ
A mocking nod to the vows they all broke in some way.
They weren’t all predators.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡx68pm2XNlG
But some were.
There was Fr. Lino, soft-spoken, fond of young choir boys. He never touched them—no. But the way his hand lingered on shoulders, the extra-long “spiritual retreats” he scheduled with his favorite boys—everyone knew. But no one reported him.
Because in San Bartolome, you don’t expose a priest.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6LTcqQXFgw
You protect the image, even if it kills the truth.
“We are shepherds,” the Prior once said in a closed-door meeting. “And shepherds must sometimes keep the flock in line—by silence.”
That silence was golden.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5M1UxuUhhm
It funded casinos.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrm04hM3Cfa
It protected reputations.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3k7RDTSJIW
It buried scandals like corpses under marble floors.
Even Father Ely—the one they called the golden boy—had secrets.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡydfF7DgbVE
He didn’t touch children. He didn’t steal. He didn’t gamble.
But he was lonely.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7hcyx85hC1
Deeply. Quietly.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMSVmoSf56w
And sometimes that loneliness took the shape of a sin he refused to name aloud.
That was before Ella Martinez walked into the confession room.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9suVFFspPQ
Before her voice—shaky, soft, braver than most—asked him something that unsettled his soul.
“Father, what happens when you want to believe… but the people of God are the ones hurting you?”
Ely couldn’t answer right away.
Because her voice reminded him of something he buried.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpVTqXQJRrG
Because he, too, once asked that same question—11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvaVDmaVqIM
Only difference was… no one answered him.
