Dear friends, don't be surprised at the fiery trials you are going
through, as if something strange were happening to you.
1 Peter 4:12 NLT
Having been a Christian for more than thirty years now, it never ceases to amaze me how the most unexpected events and situations could happen within an instant...
through, as if something strange were happening to you.
1 Peter 4:12 NLT
Having been a Christian for more than thirty years now, it never ceases to amaze me how the most unexpected events and situations could happen within an instant...
Things could be going well, when all of a sudden, chaos arrives. One minute it's calm, while the next minute a fierce storm comes in seemingly out of nowhere, and my world is turned upside down. Such was the case yesterday.
Up until about 12:30 yesterday afternoon, my day was routine and uneventful. When shortly after the lunch meal was completed, my name was paged over the cell block's intercom. "Berkowitz, report to the control console." And when I did so, the officer in the console told me that "Four investigators were here to see you. Report to the visiting room now." I was stunned!
So off I went to the visiting room, feeling both anxious and confused. "Who are they, and why are they here?" I asked myself, silently. I had no idea what to expect. And when I entered the main visiting room and hesitantly looked around, I noticed that many eyes were fixed upon me. Fellow prisoners whom I knew personally had worried and concerned looks on their faces. A few were even pointing towards the doorway which leads to a secondary visiting room which is used when the main room fills up. Their facial expressions and body language spelled danger. Now I was really worried.
When the guard who was escorting me spoke up and said, "Berkowitz, walk this way." He then led me into the secondary visiting room, where four well-dressed men were sitting at a table waiting for me. Telling me to sit down, they introduced themselves as detectives from the New York City Police Department. I was bewildered. "What was this about?" I wondered to myself.
Once seated, the lead detective spoke first, introducing himself. Then his partners did the same. Next, the head detective told me the nature of their visit. It was a "cold case" of some forty-eight years ago, where a woman in her forties was shot and wounded while sitting in a parked car. And I was the suspect. I couldn't believe it.
Ironically, however, a close friend had told me maybe a week and a half earlier that he had heard about this very case. Since my name was mentioned, he told me about it. Prior to this, I'd never heard of the crime. But the detectives were surprised how I knew of the incident, and how I knew the shooting was not with a .44 revolver. And again, I explained how this information was shared with me by my friend, even offering his contact information to them.
Nevertheless, they hammered away. I was fully cooperative, and I did my best to answer their questions. But nothing I said could dissuade them from insisting it was me. I tried to point out how some of the information they were relying on, was incorrect. And almost everything they had was only theory and conjecture. But my effort was useless. Their minds were made up.
Interestingly, however, they stated over and over that I was not in any trouble. They explained how the Statute of Limitations had expired, and therefore I could not be prosecuted. All they wanted, they told me a number of times during the interrogation, was for me to confess my guilt so they could officially close the case. Also, how the victim, who was now in her eighties, could have closure. And while as much as I would like to see this poor woman who suffered so much have closure, how could I confess to something I didn't do? Would Jesus want me to do this?
While approximately two hours and fifteen minutes later, it was over. They left disappointed because I would not confess. I offered to take a lie detector test, as well. So I returned to my prison cell exhausted. I'm still trying to mentally process all that transpired. It was surreal.
D.B.
Up until about 12:30 yesterday afternoon, my day was routine and uneventful. When shortly after the lunch meal was completed, my name was paged over the cell block's intercom. "Berkowitz, report to the control console." And when I did so, the officer in the console told me that "Four investigators were here to see you. Report to the visiting room now." I was stunned!
So off I went to the visiting room, feeling both anxious and confused. "Who are they, and why are they here?" I asked myself, silently. I had no idea what to expect. And when I entered the main visiting room and hesitantly looked around, I noticed that many eyes were fixed upon me. Fellow prisoners whom I knew personally had worried and concerned looks on their faces. A few were even pointing towards the doorway which leads to a secondary visiting room which is used when the main room fills up. Their facial expressions and body language spelled danger. Now I was really worried.
When the guard who was escorting me spoke up and said, "Berkowitz, walk this way." He then led me into the secondary visiting room, where four well-dressed men were sitting at a table waiting for me. Telling me to sit down, they introduced themselves as detectives from the New York City Police Department. I was bewildered. "What was this about?" I wondered to myself.
Once seated, the lead detective spoke first, introducing himself. Then his partners did the same. Next, the head detective told me the nature of their visit. It was a "cold case" of some forty-eight years ago, where a woman in her forties was shot and wounded while sitting in a parked car. And I was the suspect. I couldn't believe it.
Ironically, however, a close friend had told me maybe a week and a half earlier that he had heard about this very case. Since my name was mentioned, he told me about it. Prior to this, I'd never heard of the crime. But the detectives were surprised how I knew of the incident, and how I knew the shooting was not with a .44 revolver. And again, I explained how this information was shared with me by my friend, even offering his contact information to them.
Nevertheless, they hammered away. I was fully cooperative, and I did my best to answer their questions. But nothing I said could dissuade them from insisting it was me. I tried to point out how some of the information they were relying on, was incorrect. And almost everything they had was only theory and conjecture. But my effort was useless. Their minds were made up.
Interestingly, however, they stated over and over that I was not in any trouble. They explained how the Statute of Limitations had expired, and therefore I could not be prosecuted. All they wanted, they told me a number of times during the interrogation, was for me to confess my guilt so they could officially close the case. Also, how the victim, who was now in her eighties, could have closure. And while as much as I would like to see this poor woman who suffered so much have closure, how could I confess to something I didn't do? Would Jesus want me to do this?
While approximately two hours and fifteen minutes later, it was over. They left disappointed because I would not confess. I offered to take a lie detector test, as well. So I returned to my prison cell exhausted. I'm still trying to mentally process all that transpired. It was surreal.
D.B.
RSS Feed