(A transcript of a real-life conversation in Rexburg, ID from the Kim Clark era, who was noted for opening every Tuesday Devotional with…)

It’s another great day at BYU-Idaho.

    I get back from class and drop my bag in the corner.  My room mate’s sitting on the couch, watching a game.  “Hey,” I say.  He doesn’t reply.  I fling myself onto the couch next to his.

    “What’s the score?” I ask again.  He remains transfixed on the TV, but doesn’t seem to be watching.  

I ignore it.  I reach over and grab my guitar from the corner, and start strumming absently.

    “Hey, I have a hypothetical question for ya,” he finally says.

    “Shoot.”

    “What if,” he begins slowly, still staring at the TV, “you were a Bishop, and someone comes and confesses their sins to you, but it’s also a crime, like, you broke the law; would you have to report it?”

    “I dunno,” I say, still half picking my guitar, “I’m pretty sure if you were Bishop, you would be obligated to report a crime to the proper authorities under any circumstances.”

    “But, like, even though there’s confidentiality between the Bishop and the person confessing?” he continues.

    “Sure, but, isn’t part of repentance not only confessing your sins but taking the repercussions, too, and like, making restitution? So yeah, I think you’d still have to report it to the cops and everything.”

    “Ok,” he says, getting more animated now, “Then, what if you got it all cleared up with the Bishop and everything?  Wouldn’t that absolve you of all guilt?  Because, you know, God’s laws take precedence over the laws of man and all, so would you still have to report it to the cops?”

    “Yeah, but it’s also an article of our faith that we are subject to the ‘laws of the land,’ so I think you’d still have to report it.”

    “True, true,” he says, rubbing his chin.

    I keep picking my guitar.

    “Ok now,” he begins again, “What if you committed a crime before your mission, and you got it all resolved with your Bishop and everything, but maybe it was resolved only as a sin, not as a crime, and you went and served your mission and everything, and never thought about it again, but then you suddenly realized afterwards that it may have been a crime; would you still have to report it?”

    “Well, I guess that would depend on the statutes of limitations for—” I stop strumming—“Dude, is this about when you destroyed mailboxes in High School?”

    He chuckles, albeit nervously.  “No, no, no,” he says, “Though maybe I should be thinking about that, too…”

    I put down my guitar.  “Dude, what’d you do?”

    He grows more pensive.  “Well, I probably shouldn’t be going over past transgressions with you and all, but, well…

    “Before my mission, I was messing around with this one girl…”

    “Uh-huh.”

    “I mean, we didn’t go all the way or anything; nothing excommunicable, at least, not that I think.”

“Ok.”

 “So anyways, I had to clear that all up with my Bishop and Stake President and all before I could get my mission papers together.  And I went through the whole repentance process, or at least I thought I did, and it was painful, it really was, but worth it, to feel that peace again, and I got it all cleared up and could go on my mission.”

“Alright, yeah.  So what’s the—”

“Thing was, when I was fooling around with this girl, I was eighteen…”

“…and she wasn’t,” I say slowly.

“Exactly.”

“Hmmm,” I say, leaning back, “That is an interesting one.  I’d never thought of that before…”

“And the thing is,” he continues, “I’d never thought of it again—through out all of my mission, I seriously never thought about it again even once, because I assumed it was all taken care of.”

“So what happened?”

“Well, I was just alone here in the apartment, making myself lunch, when suddenly I remembered it, and I remembered the age difference, and now I’m wondering if I should, you know, report myself or something.”

“Hmmm.”  Now I rub my chin.

“And you know I want to go into law school and all, but I may not be able to now, because of it.  But I know that’s not what’s important; what’s important is: did I ever really finished the repentance process if I didn’t go to jail?”

“Yeah, but, dude, didn’t you say that the Bishop and Stake President said you were good to go?”

“Yeah, but you also said we’re subject to the laws of the land.”

“Huh.”

“But then, wouldn’t I have felt all unworthy during my mission if this was unresolved?  I mean, shouldn’t I haven’t felt the spirit as much as I did during the mission if I still had this unresolved, right?  But then, maybe I’m just rationalizing.”

“Maybe,” I get all philosophical, “God wanted you to serve to bless all those people’s lives, so he with held it from your remembrance until now or something, I don’t know.”

“Yeah, yeah, I was thinking the same thing,” he says.  “And I prayed about it, but I’m still not sure what I should do.  I mean, I want to be clean and all, and not have this still hanging over my head and…”

“Dude, dude, wait a sec,” I say, leaning forward.  “You were eighteen.  How old was she?”

“Uh, seventeen.”

“Dude, you might be ok.  I’m pretty sure most states have exceptions for if, like, there’s less then two years difference between you or something.”

“Ya sure?  I’ve heard some states make no exceptions.  Eighteen is the cut off line.”

“Well, have you checked?”

Five minutes later, we’re hovering over his laptop, waiting for the webpage to load.

“Ok, here it is.  Look!  First one up, Alabama, ‘First-degree statutory rape is for someone age 16 or older to have sexual intercourse with someone under age 12,’ and ‘second-degree statutory rape is for someone age 16 or older to have sexual intercourse with someone between age 12 and 16, when the actor is at least two years older.’”

“Holy crap, and you can go to jail for twenty to ninety-nine years!”

“Yeah, but there was a less then two year difference between you two, so you’d be ok!”

“In the state of Alabama, anyways,” he says, wiping his brow.

“Yep, in the state of Alabama you wouldn’t be some sicko rapist!” I laugh, “Now check for Idaho.”

He scrolled down.  His jaw dropped.  “‘Rape of a female under age 18,’” he read, “‘one year to life in prison.’”

“Wow, holy crap,” I say, suitably impressed, “Good thing you weren’t in the Jem state when you did it!  What’s the home state say?”

He scrolls down and we skim it together.  “Same deal as Alabama,” I read, “If you’re within three to four years of each other, you’re ok.  You’re off the hook.”

He exhales as only a free man can.

“Hey what’s Utah say out of curiosity?”

He scrolled up.  “Unlawful if under fourteen.  But ok if with a teenager if within ten years of each other, holy cow!”

“And only five years in prison max!  Shoot, if I’m ever committing statutory rape, I’m goin’ to Utah.”

“Dude, isn’t this terrible?” he says suddenly, “Here we are, looking up statutory laws up on line!  What are we doing with ourselves?”

“I know, isn’t this horrible of us, making jokes about such a serious subject?”

“It’s appalling!”

“Inexcusable.”

“Disgusting!”

“Disgraceful.”

“We should be ashamed of ourselves.”

“We seriously need to repent, man.”

“We really do need to talk to the Bishop now.”

“Absolutely.”

“I wonder what Tennessee says?”

“Look it up!”

It’s another great day at BYU-Idaho.