Jesse Lopez wants to pull on my sleeve about Jesus.

Jesse was a banger and a career criminal. Before his current parole violation — a minor matter — he did 10 years — a major matter.

Today he stands, a family man with two little men and “touched by Jesus.”

He gives respect; I show respect.

I hear him out.

The Lord moved him to admit to law enforcement what he’d done. The process terrified him, but Christ fortified him, he tells me.

Jesse’s church is within the prison’s shadow, a short drive away. Would I venture there after my bid is complete?

I demur.

I tell him I am a lapsed Catholic, but I ask myself: How lapsed?

I am Bishop Thomas O’Brien lapsed.

When I edited Phoenix New Times, my paper documented that for years, the Bishop quietly took in priests convicted of molesting children throughout America.

Parish authorities were not informed. The abuse of children skyrocketed in Phoenix.

The late Bishop O’Brien ran over and killed a Native American man on the streets of Phoenix. The Bishop did not administer the Church’s last rites. He fled the scene. He ignored the police when they knocked upon the rectory’s door.

The Bishop needed auto parts to repair damage to his car but did not want to leave his fingerprints upon the call for new headlights. Instead, he had his housekeeper make the call.

My current attorney, Tom Henze, represented the Bishop in the trial that followed. I sat in front of the deceased Indian’s family during the trial. I heard their sobs and wrote about their tears.

The Bishop was found guilty and sentenced to minister to the terminally ill.

In other words, he was sentenced to his vocation.

So, as I listen to Mr. Jesse tell me about his relationship with Jesus inside our prison, I consider the bookends that bracket my shallow faith.

To the left is the Bishop O’Brien bookend; to the right is the crusted ledger of his colleagues’ abuse of children going back . . . back . . . back.

If only this was enough to settle the matter.

It is not.

My scales are balanced by the Village of Guadalupe, hard upon the freeways of Phoenix,

It is a small community of Yaqui Indians and residents of Mexican descent, whose families have occupied the square-mile town for generations.

Here the notorious Mexican tormenter, Sheriff Joe Arpaio, set up a command post and dispatched his deputies to harass and arrest Mexican migrants and Mexican-Americans within the neighborhood.

I took both of my junior high sons, Roarke and Colin, to witness what Sheriff Arpaio unleashed.

(Later, my sons would learn an even greater lesson when the sheriff arrested and jailed me for my coverage of his abuse of the grand jury process.)

Exhausted by the disgraceful Guadalupe spectacle, I found peace within the town’s chapel, where I venerated the Virgin of Guadalupe.

As a child, I served priests and congregants as an altar boy. Communing with the Virgin of Guadalupe was something better . . . something stronger.

It was not mine to forgive Sheriff Joe Arpaio, and I have not, though President Trump pardoned him for his trespass.

I attended the funeral service for my friend and business partner, Jim Larkin, at Guadalupe’s chapel.

If I am lucky, perhaps I may join Jesse Lopez at his Christian church upon my release.

I’m sure the Virgin of Guadalupe will understand.

She knows I leave with her in my heart.

Michael Lacey is the former executive editor of Village Voice Media, a 17-newspaper chain credited with winning more than 3,800 writing awards, including a Pulitzer.

Read more by Lacey, here. And please watch, “How the feds destroyed Backpage.com and its founders,” a 40-minute documentary on the Backpage case by Reason magazine.

Please also see:
Within the Barred Bunker: Michael Lacey Writes from Prison
and
Within the Barred Bunker: A New Prison Column by Michael Lacey, ‘A Memorable Day’
and
Within the Barred Bunker: Michael Lacey and the ‘Prison Spa’ Program
and
Within the Barred Bunker: Michael Lacey on His Heart Attack in Prison