Samantha sat directly in front of Gideon Truman in a seventeenth-century Gothic throne-like chair in the living room of her estate. The top edge of the ornately carved back of the dark walnut seat hovered just above the top of her satin hair. A wall of French doors served as the backdrop, revealing the perfectly maintained grounds of the estate. Light poured into the room, enveloping Samantha in a warm glow. On occasion a pair of preening peacocks could be seen through the window, strolling across the freshly mown lawn.
The idyllic scene was, however, upstaged by Samantha Cleaveland's presence. Her skin took on the rosy hue of the spray of flowers in an etched Lalique crystal vase placed on a glass table next to her. She wore a peach floral silk blouse that revealed only enough cleavage to hint at her perfect, full breasts.
Two cameramen positioned themselves at angles to Samantha to capture her left and right, and two others pointed theirs to Gideon. He wore a black suit and his trademark plaid shirt with a blue and red striped necktie. Bright lights mounted on tripods were directed at them just beyond the cameras' view. The first thing he had noted when he entered the home was that both Picassos had been replaced by nondescript pieces of abstract art.
The other person in the room was Gideon's producer, Megan, a fresh-faced brunette who was the daughter of a faceless network executive. Megan handed Gideon large index cards containing the questions America had for Samantha Cleaveland, and provided final directions and assuring comments to Samantha.
“Pastor Cleaveland, just be natural. If you make a mistake or get confused, don't worry about it. We can edit it out later.” Megan turned to Samantha when she spoke and slightly brushed against the table holding the vase and flower arrangement.
“I don't get confused or make mistakes,” Samantha said coldly. “Would you please be more careful? That vase probably cost more than your house. Are we ready to start yet? I'd like to get this over with.”
“Yes, ma'am,” Megan said with a stammer. “We are ready whenever you are.”
“I was ready when you invaded my home two hours ago,” Samantha responded with an irritated gesture of her hand and a raised eyebrow.
Megan retreated sheepishly to her place behind a monitor just beyond the eyes of the cameras and said, “Okay, everyone, we're rolling in five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . and . . .”
“Good evening. I'm Gideon Truman, and welcome to
Truman Live
.” Gideon's face filled the monitor. His eyes sparkled, and he flashed the smile that made people all over the world welcome him into their homes.
“Tonight we are honored to have a woman who until recently was one half of a power couple who for years has captivated the hearts of people around the world. Her recent tragedy made national and international headlines and rocked the religious world to its core. Please welcome Pastor Samantha Cleaveland of New Testament Cathedral in Los Angeles. Good evening, Pastor Cleaveland, and thank you for inviting us into your lovely home.”
Samantha came to life when the camera was rolling. Her skin captured the light around her and sent it back to the world brighter than it had come.
“Thank you, Gideon. It's my pleasure.”
“I'm sure I speak for millions of people when I say how sorry I am for the tragic loss of your husband, Pastor Hezekiah Cleaveland.”
“Thank you,” she said with a gracious nod of her head.
“Let me start by asking, are the police any closer to finding out who assassinated Pastor Cleaveland?”
“The Los Angeles Police Department has been amazing throughout this entire ordeal,” she said as if by rote, “but unfortunately they are no closer today to finding his killer than they were the day it happened. A part of me feels we may never know who killed Hezekiah. The important thing, however, is that this person will have to answer to God either in this life or the next.”
“You are a woman with strong religious beliefs. Are you in any way able to forgive the man or woman who did this to you, your family, and all the people who love you?”
“I'm so glad you asked me that question.” Samantha looked Gideon directly in the eye and continued, “I have already forgiven him. This has caused me and my daughter immense pain and anguish. There were days when I didn't think I could go on without him. But you know, Gideon, God promised us all that he would never give us more burdens than we could bear. And with that knowledge I was able to get up one morning a few weeks after it happened, put on my makeup, and face another day. Don't get me wrong, though. I still cry every day, and I miss him more than you can imagine, but life must go on, and every day I grow a little stronger.”
“You mentioned your daughter, Jasmine. How is she handling the loss of her father?”
“Jasmine took her father's death very hard. They were very close. She was daddy's little girl,” Samantha said with a smile. “They were inseparable from the day she was born until the day he died. She couldn't bear to be in the house after he was killed, so she's staying temporarily with very dear friends of our family in Malibu. I speak with her every day, and we pray together on the telephone every evening, before she goes to bed. God and time heals all wounds, and every day she becomes stronger. As painful as this has all been, I know that someday she will come to understand that this is all part of God's master plan.”
“Can you think of any reason anyone would want to kill your husband?”
Megan looked away from the monitor and scanned her copy of the questions they had developed together. Gideon's last question was not on the list.
Samantha's suddenly dilated pupils were the only visible reaction to the unexpected question. “I've thought a lot about this and have had multiple conversations with detectives, who wanted to know the same thing. Everyone loved Hezekiah. He was the kind of person that would give you his last dollar if you needed it. I've never known him to make an enemy. I can't think of anyone who would have wanted him dead.”
“New Testament Cathedral is the sixth largest church in the country. Your television ministry generates millions each year. Do you think jealousy may have played into this?”
“I would hate to think jealousy was a factor, but anything is possible,” Samantha said languidly. “There are many troubled people in the world. We may never know what motivated this person to do what he did.”
“Do you think you may have factored into his death in any way?”
Megan swiftly removed her glasses, stood up, and took a step toward Gideon. Samantha saw her from the corner of her eye and held up her hand, issuing the universal sign for “stop.”
“I'm not sure what you mean,” Samantha said. Her eyes were a centimeter tighter than before.
Gideon saw the almost imperceptible shift in her demeanor. He pressed on, unfazed by the icy glare from his guest or the rustling of the producer behind his shoulder. “What I mean is, could you have done something to contribute to the murder of your husband, inadvertently, of course?”
Megan clutched her mouth to prevent a gasp from escaping. The four cameramen looked nervously at each other, then zoomed in on Samantha's stone face.
“Anything is possible, of course. I'm sure I've made decisions in the ministry that may have possibly upset some people, but I honestly don't think I've done anything to anyone that would elicit such an extreme response as this. What your viewers need to understand is that for the most part the world is filled with people who have no desire to hurt anyone.
“I've traveled all over the world and met so many people from different cultures, and I'm always amazed to find people just like you and me, all believing in the same God, but maybe calling him by a different name, who simply want to live their lives without doing harm. There are, however, a small minority of people out there who don't have God in their lives, and unfortunately, they sometimes make misguided decisions that hurt other people.”
Gideon pushed a little harder. “I find it difficult to fathom that a man as powerful as Hezekiah Cleaveland, one of the most high-profile and wealthiest ministers in the country, didn't have any enemies. So do you think this was a random shooting?”
“My husband was human like everyone else. He made mistakes, and like us all, he did things that, if he were alive, I'm sure he wouldn't be proud of. But I'll say it again. I don't think he ever did anything that would warrant him being killed. If that were the case, we all would have to walk down the street looking over our shoulders.”
“Let's talk about New Testament Cathedral,” Gideon said, flipping the index cards. “Shortly after Hezekiah's death you were installed as pastor. How has the transition from first lady to pastor been for you?”
“I believe it was a blessing for me. The appointment was totally unexpected. I didn't even know I was being considered for the position until I received a call from the president of our board of trustees,” Samantha said, batting her mink eyelashes.
She went on. “I, of course, was honored and a little concerned about whether it was too soon after losing my husband. However, the trustees had faith in me and were insistent that it was the best thing for New Testament Cathedral. Initially, I said no because I felt I needed more time to mourn my loss. But my daughter said something that changed my mind.”
“What did she say?” Gideon asked.
“Something very simple. She looked me in the eye and said, âMommy, Daddy would have wanted it that way.' So I prayed through my tears and through my grief and God . . .” Samantha paused and gingerly dabbed the corner of her eye with the tip of her finger. “God spoke to my heart late one night and said, âSamantha, this is my will. With me you can do all things.' After I heard that, I knew I had to either live what I've been preaching all these years or just walk away. I decided I would stand by God's word.”
Gideon looked down at the index cards so the camera could not catch the smirk on his face. An image of Danny flashed in his head as he pondered his next question. He resisted the urge to ask, “Were you aware that your husband was involved in a homosexual affair for two years with a man named Danny St. John?” Or, “How do you think the millions of people who send you their hard-earned money every year would feel if they knew about it?” And his knockout punch, “If the public found out that one of the most loved ministers in the country was gay, it would have cost you millions. What did you do to Hezekiah when you learned of the affair?”
Suddenly Gideon's hand felt warm from the memory of Danny's touch. He remembered the fear in his voice and the worry in his eyes.
Megan braced herself for the next unscripted question, and the cameramen stood in anticipation, with the lenses zoomed in on the hunter and his prey.
“Pastor Cleaveland,” Gideon said, looking up again. “I think your board of trustees made an excellent decision.”
An audible sigh of relief could be heard from Megan in the background.
For the remainder of the one-hour interview Gideon stuck to the script, asking one softball question after another, each skillfully spun by Samantha to solidify her image as the brave grieving widow who set aside her own needs for the good of the church.
“Pastor Cleaveland, it has been a pleasure speaking with you today. I now see why America has fallen in love with you. I wish you, Jasmine, and New Testament Cathedral the best.”
“It's been my pleasure.”
The cameramen stood up straight and deeply exhaled. Megan dashed from behind the monitor to Samantha and said, “Pastor Cleaveland, that was brilliant. You looked beautiful on the screen and . . .”
Samantha stood up, removed the mike from her blouse, and walked past Megan before she could finish the sentence and said, “I want you all out of my house and off the property in ten minutes.”
Gideon, Megan, and the cameramen stood frozen as Samantha left the room.
“What the fuck were you doing, Gideon?” Megan finally said. “You practically accused her of killing her husband. Why didn't you stick to the questions we agreed on?”
“They were softball, bullshit questions,” Gideon said defensively. “Trust me, I had tougher ones I could have asked, but I restrained myself. The whole fucking interview was like a Samantha Cleaveland infomercial. I feel like a goddamned idiot.”
“So you think that's why she stormed out of here in a puff of smoke like Endora?” Megan asked sarcastically.
The cameramen wasted no time in packing the equipment, rolling up cords, and returning the room to the perfect state it was in when they arrived.
Gideon and Megan continued their discussion while the four men worked frantically to meet the ten minute deadline.
“Gideon, do you know something you're not telling me? What is this about?”
“I don't know anything. I just don't like that phony bitch.”
“So you accuse one of the most popular women in the country of being involved in her husband's death just because you think she's a bitch? Have you forgotten about professional detachment?”