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Wren’s face turns puce red. “Turn this off!” he demands. “Turn it off right now.”
But his team won’t be able to turn it off. Asher has hacked into their video and audio equipment and is controlling what’s being shown. The images change, and lists of names and emails start to scroll across the screen.
Others in the audience have aimed their phones away from us now and are pointing them at Wren and the images behind him.
I feel bad for everyone we might be traumatizing, but it’s better that than experiencing his abuse for real. Besides, depending on how well they know Wren, I suspect some of them are already more aware of what he’s like than they let on. There will already be people in the congregation who are covering for him—or at least they haven’t admitted to themselves what he’s truly like. But they can’t keep their heads in the sand forever, and now they have no choice but to face up to it.
Rafferty raises his voice, ensuring as many of the congregation can hear as possible.
“These are the names and emails of everyone you’ve been dealing child pornography to. As well as showing them to everyone here, we’ve also sent this information to the FBI.”
This isn’t just a handful of people we’re talking about—though if it was, it would have still been as important to take them down. No, this is a whole web of child pornography peddlers, the sickest of the sick. There are names people will recognize as well, public figures—politicians and celebrities. It’s a worldwide network of these fuckers.
Wren splutters. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You can’t deny it now,” Brody says. “We literally have video footage of you abusing boys.” He sweeps his arm across the crowd. “All these people have seen it, and I guarantee some of them will have recorded what’s happening here on their phones.”
Even Wren’s security team are looking in Wren’s direction. I can tell from their horrified and disgusted expressions that they had no idea Wren was into this kind of thing.
Wren takes a couple of steps back and glances over his shoulder.
“Don’t let him leave!” Rafferty shouts.
If Wren runs, we’re in trouble, but from the look on his security team’s faces, he’s not going anywhere. In the car, outside, Honor has already placed a call to the local police to inform them about what’s going on inside the megachurch. Wren might have a few local cops in his pocket, but his takedown is so public none of them will get away with trying to help him. If they’re seen so much as talking to him privately, questions will be asked.
“You sons of bitches,” he spits. “I should never have let any of you live. I should have killed you all when you were boys.”
The charismatic, welcoming man of God has vanished. His face is contorted into one of pure rage, and only evil shines out.
A woman in the congregations gets to her feet and points at Wren. “Don’t let him leave!”
Someone else joins her. “Don’t let him leave.”
Then another person and another. Pretty soon, the entire congregation are on their feet, and Wren’s own security team surrounds him.
Our job is done.
I glance back at Rafferty, and he gives me a nod. Brody’s hand finds my shoulder, and he squeezes. “Let’s get out of here.”
The feeling is momentous, as if I want to cry and laugh at the same time.
Everyone has forgotten about us now. All their attention is on Wren.
We turn and leave the church, stepping back out into the bright Georgia sunshine. A weight has lifted from me.
There’s a chance we’ll have been caught on camera and someone might be able to ID us. In which case, we’ll have to speak to the police and tell them what we know. I suspect that won’t be necessary, however. The proof we’ve already sent to the FBI and that which will now be shared all over the internet is more than enough to send Wren away for life. Not only that, it will implicate all those he was involved with. Of course, there will be a few of the ring they won’t be able to find, but that’s only because we’ve already killed them.
Honor is waiting in the car not far from the entrance. Asher is already with her.
Honor had been right when she’s said we could do this without violence, and in doing so we’ve had far more of an impact. Maybe we’d have taken more personal satisfaction in feeding Wren his balls, but the difference we’ve made to all the poor abused children—just like we’d been—is far more important.
Besides, we have to take pleasure in how public we made Wren’s takedown. Above all else, Wren cared about what people thought of him. Even when he changed names and moved places, he wanted his reputation to be good. He yearned to be worshiped like the God he professed to love so deeply. We destroyed him in front of the people he’d been trying so hard to draw into his spell.
We move at a jog, happy to be away from the place, and jump in the back. It’s a squash—especially with me in the middle—but we can deal with that.
“Let’s get out of here,” Honor says.
