A mysterious disappearance still not solved.

          I have been asked so many times to tell this story that I’ve decided to write it all down and next time someone asks and I am not in a talkative mood, I can just hand them a hard copy or direct them to my web site.  I’ve been accused of telling stories that are too cut and dried; I don’t embellish the storyline with enough details some say.  Well, that’s the way I do it.  I got the information from the police reports, newspaper accounts and the local folks.  That’s about it.  It’s up to you to believe or disbelieve.
     As the story goes, Father Fabian just vanished.  He was there one day and gone the next.  That is not so bizarre.  A lot of priests get another calling or itchy feet or whatever.  But what is strange about the story is who else disappeared along with Father Fabian.
     Father Fabian came to St. Elmo’s parish after the sudden but expected death of Father Leary.  The latter was eighty-one years of age and his time, as everyone in the parish was expecting, had come at last.  He died suddenly while playing a round of golf on a sunny Saturday afternoon.  It was a heart attack.  It was the perfect death.  He died doing something he loved in the company of friends on a sunny day.  We should all be so lucky.
     Father Fabian was much younger than his predecessor.  No one knew exactly how old he was but he could not have been much more that in his late twenties or early thirties.  He was a handsome man who looked more like a movie star or a professional athlete than a parish priest.  He became the immediate heartthrob of the adolescent girls at the Catholic school where he taught religion and sponsored the swim club.  A lot of parents noticed that it was not as difficult to convince some of their usually less than enthusiastic daughters to attend mass on Sunday.  Some of them even went to evening prayers.  Father Fab, as the girls referred to the new priest, became an instant favorite with most members of his congregation, although some of the boys called him something else – also a three-letter name but ending with the seventh letter of the alphabet.  There may have been some jealousy or some belief in the rumors about the new priest.
     And there were rumors about Father Fabian.  Nothing definite of course but there were hints about some kind of relationship that was not looked upon with favor by the church.  The young priest had developed associations with some of the lads of the previous parish.  Said associations were considered “beyond the proper boundaries” expected of a man in his position and Father Fabian had been dispatched to another parish clear across the country.  Some believed the rumors; some embellished them while others just did not care.
     Allysia Sweeney, or Allie as her few friends called her, was a seventeen year old student in Father Fabian’s Religion 11 class.  She was a quiet girl, a middle child from a family of seven children.  A pleasant child, she had grown up mostly ignored by her busy parents and more outgoing brothers and sisters.  Allie was bright and did very well in school.  Her English teachers found her writing to be precise but also sensitive.  The poems that she wrote for assignments were profound for one so young.    
     The events of September 11, 2001 greatly disturbed Allie.  She only saw the crashing of the jet liners into the twin towers once on television but she could not rid her mind of the horror.  No matter how hard she tried, the images kept replaying over and over in her mind.  She even had nightmares about it as she told her friends.  She needed to talk to someone about this and her teacher in religion class seemed to her the ideal candidate.
     To Allie, Father Fabian was the perfect teacher.  He appeared sensitive, intelligent and open-minded.  He encouraged questions from his students and he discussed other topics besides religious matters such as poetry and music.  She admitted to herself that she loved him but not in the silly, giggly way the other girls were “in love” with him.  She imagined her relationship with the young priest as intellectual, platonic, pure; in short, ideal to her way of thinking.
     One afternoon when Religion was the last class of the day, she went to Father Fabian’s office and knocked on the door. 
     “Come in.  Leave the door open,” said the priest.
     As Allie entered the office, Father Fabian took his eyes off the computer screen. 
     What is known of the conversation between Allie and Father Fabian was obtained from the housekeeper, Mrs. Flannagan.  The latter was meticulous in her upkeep of the rectory and a superb cook; she was also an avid gossip.  Mrs. Flannagan felt it was her duty to “be up on things.”  Thus she listened quietly outside the open door of the office and, according to her side of the story; the exchange between the priest and Allie went as follows.
     Allie told Father Fabian of her feelings for him.  She stressed that her “love” for him was strictly spiritual; an ideal based on purity of emotion and thought.  She stressed that she wanted him as a friend; someone she could rely on to be there for her in times of distress.  She told him of her anguish about the state of the world and of the nightmares that kept recurring.  In short, Allie emptied her soul to the priest, trusting that she was doing the right thing for her own well-being. 
     Mrs. Flannagan states that Allie talked on for at least five minutes before the priest stopped her. 
     “Allie, I appreciate what you are telling me but I am not the girls’ counselor.  Sister O’Leary would be more than happy to be of help to you I’m sure.  I can give her a call right now and set up an appointment for you.  How would that be?” said Father Fabian.
     For a moment there was silence and then Allie began to cry.  She said nothing.  She pulled out a notebook from her knapsack and let it drop on the priest’s desk.  Mrs. Flannagan barely had time to pretend that she had been busily scrubbing the floor as Allie came rushing out the door sobbing.
     Father Fabian took the notebook but did not open it.  He got up, walked down the hall to Sister O’Leary’s office.  He knocked.