My Son Stole My Sacred Hymns and Sold Them to a Seattle Megachurch for $85,000 — Then I Sang the Unpublished Second Verse in Front of His Congregation
A profound silence descended upon Grace Cathedral. It hung heavy and thick after the last, mournful note of the second verse left my lips.
My own breath hitched in my throat.
The 80-piece choir, moments ago in full, glorious song, now stood frozen, their mouths slightly agape. Clara Choi, the pastor’s wife, looked as though she had swallowed something very sour, her face a mask of disbelief and fury.
Daniel, my son, recovered first. His face, usually so polished, contorted with rage.
“Security!” he bellowed, his voice echoing through the grand hall. “Remove this woman immediately!”
Two burly men in dark suits, who had been standing discreetly near the back doors, started moving towards me. Their steps were heavy, purposeful. I felt a tremor run through me.
Then, a voice cut through the rising tension, calm and deliberate.
“Hold on a moment, gentlemen.”
I turned my head slightly. A man sat in one of the back pews, closer to the aisle than the wall. He was well-dressed, in a charcoal suit, with kind eyes that crinkled at the corners. His gaze was fixed on me, then shifted to Daniel.
“My apologies,” the man continued, rising slowly. His voice carried authority. “But it appears there might be a legitimate intellectual property dispute here.”
Daniel stopped, halfway between the altar and the pews. He looked from the man to me, his brow furrowed.
“This is a family matter,” Daniel snapped. “My mother suffers from moments of confusion. She’s being manipulated.”
Clara Choi stepped forward, her voice sharp. “This is a house of God, not a stage for such… histrionics. We have a service to finish.”
The man ignored her, walking smoothly towards Daniel. He pulled a thick church bulletin from his inner jacket pocket, his eyes scanning it.
“I am Arthur Pendelton,” he said, extending a hand to Daniel, who hesitantly shook it. “I’m an intellectual property attorney. This bulletin, Mr. Park, lists ‘Grace Hymnal Media’ as the sole rights holder for ‘Song of the Quiet River,’ among others.”
Arthur Pendelton looked up, his gaze steady on my son.
“And it also lists copyright registration numbers for forty distinct compositions. Forty, Mr. Park.”
My breath caught. Forty? I had known about “Song of the Quiet River,” but Daniel had registered forty? My heart clenched, a cold dread spreading through my chest. He hadn’t just taken one piece; he had emptied my entire creative life.
Daniel’s face flushed an angry red. “Those are all legitimate acquisitions! My mother is being influenced by outsiders envious of our commercial success.”
Arthur Pendelton simply raised an eyebrow, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. He turned to me.
“Mrs. Park,” he said, his voice gentle. “Would you care to elaborate on these ‘forty compositions’?”
More Stories
+ There are no comments
Add yours