The Soul of an Arsonist

By Austin McCawley

This is a story about the crime of arson and the search for one particular arsonist, who set a series of fires in churches of different denominations. The search tears apart a small community in New England. When the arsonist is exposed, the inquiry extends to his psychology, his motivation, his purpose. Is there a logical explanation for abhorrent behavior?
It is a story about the community affected by the arson and how it reacts. And the members of that community whose lives are damaged. One of them is a psychiatrist, and his patients are drawn into the web. It is a story about how people destroy themselves. It is a story about group hysteria, prejudice and generosity, courage and resilience. About human nature.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9781669812074

Austin McCawley

Dr. Austin McCawley practiced medicine for 57 years, 53 of them as a psychiatrist, He graduated from medical school at the University of Glasgow, Scotland in 1948 and, after internship, served as a medical officer in the Royal Air Force. He studied psychiatry at the University of London and then came to the United States on a fellowship at the Institute of Living, Hartford, Connecticut. He stayed to become a citizen. In a long and busy career in the United States he was Director of several large departments, professor at a medical school and Chairman of the Board of Mental Health, State of Connecticut.

Book preview

Copyright © 2022 by Austin McCawley.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 02/24/2022

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

837413

CONTENTS

Introduction

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

Chapter XVII

Chapter XVIII

Chapter XIX

Chapter XX

Chapter XXI

Chapter XXII

Chapter XXIII

Postscript

Acknowledgements

To Gloria

                              And Time, a maniac scattering dust

                              And Life, a Fury slinging flame.

Alfred Lord Tennyson, In Memoriam

INTRODUCTION

This is a story about arson and those it harms, not only those whose property is damaged or who might be injured in the fire, but those whose lives are damaged in other ways. When an arsonist sets fire to churches, of different denominations, in a small New England town, the community is torn apart, innocent people are accused, and hate-mongers come out of the dark corners.

Even in the most civilized communities, hatreds and prejudices run like fault lines below the surface. Even in good people, there are emotions that, let free, can destroy everything they value. This is a story about the ways in which people destroy each other, and themselves.

It is about our attempts to explain it all.

It is about courage and resilience in vulnerable people.

The events narrated and the characters are imaginary. The problems, the issues are not.

CHAPTER I

AUGUST 25th, 1982

The Duxford Pentecostal Church was a small Colonial style building, simple and graceful, its spire rising above the ranch houses around it. It was set back from the street, surrounded by a lawn and a parking lot. Police Officer Rubino, sitting in his patrol car on the other side of the street, was not interested in the architecture; he had noticed a flickering, red glow in one of the side windows. He got out of his car to look more closely and realized the building was on fire.

As he radioed in the alarm, he noted the time: 2:30 a.m. Then he ran to the front door and, finding it locked, tried to break it open. He was still trying when the firefighters arrived a few minutes later. The station was close by, and a fire in a church will get a very prompt response from any fire department.

They broke open the door and, entering the building, saw a small fire in the main foyer and the reflection of flames in the glass partition behind it. The pulpit and some of the pews in the main body of the church were ablaze. The firefighters brought the hoses into action very quickly.

Rubino had discovered a smaller fire in a wastebasket in a side office. As he put out the fire with an extinguisher, he noticed a telephone on the desk beside it, with the phone off the hook,

When they were sure the flames were out, they started to investigate. They found that fires had been set, using an assortment of different materials: paper towels, books and draperies. The deputy fire chief went over the area carefully and found no sign of an accelerant. The fires were still relatively limited, and that was a sign that no accelerant had been used.

One window was unlatched, and the arsonist may have come in by that route. However, there were other ways to gain access: doors might have been left open, and there was always a key hidden under a stone in the driveway, for the use of the congregation. Detectives dusted all the nearby areas for fingerprints, although it was probably a waste of time in such a public place.

By now, Police Chief Hewitt had arrived and was talking to the pastor, Reverend Peter Franklin. Hewitt was a tall man with a lanky build and a weather-beaten face. He looked like a Yankee farmer, but, when he spoke, he had the measured, confident tones of a police chief used to giving orders and dealing with small town politicians.

Franklin was a younger man in the late thirties, who, as a rule, was aggressively cheerful and was now clearly distressed. He kept shifting his feet and waving his arms, nervously greeting the neighbors and friends who had come to see what was going on. He was looking at years of work being destroyed in minutes. Voices raised, full of outrage.

Police Chief Hewitt said, They have it under control now. It could be worse. I think the damage can be repaired. Fire Chief thinks it’s the work of an arsonist. It’s funny there are none of the sick messages you usually find in this kind of vandalism. Maybe he was interrupted and didn’t finish. It is probably the work of one very sick person. Anybody got it in for you or your congregation—whom you know of, Reverend? Or any member of the church who’s been behaving strangely?

No one that I can think of. Of course, if you know anything about the history of our church, from time to time there are fights about doctrine, and we’ve had a few. But nothing that could rise to this level. Or should I say sink. And there is no member of the church who’s capable of this kind of thing. We have members with problems—what pastor doesn’t—but no-one criminal, nor violent.

How about former members?

None that fit the bill. We’re a small group, as you know, and a psychopath would stand out.

Not necessarily. An arsonist would keep it to himself.

It could be some thrill seeker who picks on a church because it will get a lot of attention but has no other connection.

Or an individual with a grudge. It’s possible it could be a hate group, or a bunch of vandals. Why would they pick on you?

‘Well, there is one possibility."

‘Yes."

We’ve always been an integrated church with some members from minorities. The community is changing, more minorities are moving in and we have more than we used to. Some of them live next-door, in the city of Woodford. This had always been a white bread community. There are bigots who resent the changes and maybe resent us. Just a thought.

It’s possible. But it would be a solitary individual. I can’t think of any organized hate group in this town. Maybe some teen-agers, like that group who vandalized cemeteries a few years ago. They targeted every denomination, I remember.

Meanwhile, patrolmen and detectives questioned the spectators gathered around the church. They were looking for any unusual behavior, anything out of the ordinary: exaggerated interest in the scene; insignia of membership in an extremist group; signs of mental illness; or behavioral disturbance of any kind. Arsonists like to return to the scene of their crime and enjoy the spectacle.

They found nothing suspicious and spread out across the neighborhood, gradually widening the search. They knew from their training that the arsonist would probably be a male, between sixteen and twenty-five years of age. However, they looked for suspicious characters of any age group; arsonists did not always fit the profile. Whoever and whatever he might be, they were determined to get him.

CHAPTER II

MARCH 18th, 1968

The small boy stood in the window of the foster home, looking at the driveway. He was dressed in a small worn suit with short pants, a shirt buttoned tightly at the neck and a red bow tie. The suit was cheap but neatly pressed. The tie was red. His hair was slicked back, and his face shone with the glow of soap and water. A worn teddy bear hung from the fingers of one hand; the other hand wiped away his tears.

The foster mother, known to the children as Mother Amy, turned to Annie Mahoney, the social worker for the home, and said, I don’t know how many times she’s done this to him. We get him all ready for a visit, he gets all worked up, and then she doesn’t show. It breaks his heart and mine. Danny’s a good kid, but any more of this and we have a disaster on our hands. As it is, he’ll be upset and hard to handle for days. It’s not fair.

She may be in jail.

Or else off on a toot. All it takes is one phone call.

Don’t let him hear you.

He won’t hear anything he doesn’t know already.

I believe there’s a family interested in him--if only she will give him up for adoption.

Mother Amy gave her a sharp look. If she doesn’t visit for a year, we can make her give him up, can’t we? It’s over a year.

Yes. We don’t like to do that. Maybe she could be persuaded.

It would be a blessing.

APRIL 17th, 1968

Annie Mahoney looked at the couple in front of her and tried to choose her words carefully. She was trying to place Danny, a child who had been traumatized emotionally and required sensitive handling, with this family. She was wondering whether the couple could cope with him. He was three and a half, a difficult child, and would not be the first choice of prospective parents. She would like to see him placed in a good home, but she had to be sure it was the right one.

Bill and Nancy Kempton were in their late thirties. Nancy was an attractive woman, dressed fashionably but conservatively, looking anxious. Bill was of average height, casually dressed in a gray cardigan, with the same anxious expression. They were facing the concerns of any family thinking of adopting a child. Their state of mind was not helped by the fact that Bill was a practicing psychiatrist, and Nancy had been a social worker. They knew most of the problems, enough to realize that they had no idea what they were getting into. They also knew that because of their age they were in line for an older child and maybe one of the harder to place children.

We realize we’re a little older than most adoptive parents, but we really want children, and, if we’re lucky enough to be given a child, he or she will get a lot of love.

"There is one child, the boy I talked to you about, six weeks or so ago. The mother has finally agreed to adoption. She is unable--for reasons I will not go into--to look after him. She hasn’t