MY FATHER AND THE BUSLOAD OF BISHOPS.

MY FATHER AND THE BUSLOAD OF BISHOPS. Just because you have a right to a jury trial if there is an issue as to the credibility of different witnesses doesn’t mean that you have a good shot at winning at that jury trial. This is the story of what must have been my father’s toughest case. Actually, it was not literally a busload of bishops. My father once ran as a Democrat for state’s attorney in what was one of the most Republican counties in the country, with a well-established Republican organization. He was critical of the performance of the Republican incumbent. My father’s war story begins with a Russian wedding in suburban Illinois. It was a grand wedding which went on for two or three days. A young man and a young woman had gotten to know each other, and toward the end of the festivities, they went for a ride in the young man’s car. It got later and later. Dawn was breaking when the young man began to sexually assault the young woman. A large number of monks at Saint Procopius were going to morning services and were witnesses to the assault. The court— perhaps, as my father suspected, influenced by my father’s criticisms of local law enforcement— assigned my father to defend the young man. At this point in the story, my father would pause.