"Since when do you get to decide what's RIGHT?"
You hear a smacking sound and the old priest grunt. You peek around the corner of one box to see the man with the stick in hand, having brought it across the old man's face. He coughs, deep red liquid coming from his mouth in a slow drip onto the floor.
"He may not have been a good man, but he was MY BROTHER! He felt bad about what he did, and YOU betrayed his trust." The man holds the sides of his head, turning and walking away from the priest.
"Oh lord." The priest says, his head wobbling like a leaf in the wind as he looks over to the man. "Son, don't do this."
The man stops, standing as still as a statue. "My brother fries on Saturday." He turns slowly, raising the stick to point it at the old man. You hear a click from it. "He isn't going alone. Say your prayers, Father."
"Our father, who art in heav'n, hallowed..." The old priest starts, sobbing as he comes to the end of the first verse.