• An Indiana University fan sprinkled holy water on the field before the Big Ten championship game.
• The water came from a well at the Mother of the Redeemer Retreat Center in Bloomington.
• This water is believed by some to have spiritual and healing properties, with several cures attributed to it.

When photographer Garrett Ewald flew in from New York for the Big Ten Football championship at Lucas Oil Stadium, he had no plans of pouring an 8-ounce bottle of holy water onto the Indiana end zone, water pumped from a well at a Catholic retreat center in Bloomington where the liquid has long been touted as having spiritual and healing properties.

He, admittedly, was a tad nervous that “someone might tackle me and call Homeland Security or something” as he nonchalantly sprinkled the holy water on Indiana football’s sideline and end zone before they took on Ohio State.

But his heart got the best of him. His roots got the best of him; he’s an IU grad. The idea of that water got the best of him. “What the hell?” said Ewald, who was on the field to shoot photos for The Bloomingtonian. “You never know.”

Earlier that day, Ewald had visited Mother of the Redeemer Retreat Center a few miles west of Bloomington, located on a hilly, lush green, peaceful property where people have gathered to pray, to heal and to attend retreats for more than 30 years.

Ewald was brought there by his friend and longtime IU senior associate athletics director Harold Mauro, whose grandchild is buried on the property. For years, Mauro has been devoted to the center, doing maintenance and upkeep at the place he and those who love it call “the farm.”

Mauro not only spent 22 years as athletics administrator at IU, he played football for IU the last time the team made the Rose Bowl in 1968. He was a part of nine of IU’s 10 bowl games as a player, assistant coach or administrator.

“And so we were there with Harold visiting. My other friends were maybe a little bit more religious than I am, but I went with an open mind and was happy to see how much joy it brought to Harold,” Ewald said. “He mentioned in passing how the well on the property has had some moderately documented examples of miraculous healing. And he insisted on giving us (water), so he gave us a little plastic jug of water when we left.”

At some point on his drive to Lucas Oil Stadium from the farm, Ewald had an idea. “I said, ‘You know, I’ll bring some in and I’ll sprinkle it on the field.’” He dumped out an 8-ounce bottle of regular water, put the holy water in its place and made his move.

“I was trying to be a little bit surreptitious, so I walked holding the bottle in one hand, the lid just slightly open, and then my other hand had my cellphone,” he said. “I just kind of walked down behind the bench, dribbling water out as I went. And then I walked across the Indiana end zone as well, sprinkling the rest of the water as I went. And I let Harold know that I had done it, and he was like, ‘That’s great.’”

Mauro didn’t ask him to do it, but Ewald thought it would make him happy.

Then, Ohio State missed that 27-yard field goal wide left with less than 3 minutes to play, which could have tied the game 13-13. It was missed it in the end zone where Ewald had sprinkled the water.

IU walked away with its first outright Big Ten championship since 1945.

Of course, as faith usually goes, no one had any proof that water had done anything. Few even knew of Ewald’s sprinkling. But those who did, and those who believed, were all in on making sure that water followed IU as far as their magical football playoff run took them.

They made sure the holy water from the farm was in Pasadena for the Rose Bowl. And it will be there Friday for the Peach Bowl.

And should IU make it to the national championship, the holy water will flow there as well.

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‘Our Lady was like the 12th man on the field’

Fr. Terrance Chartier didn’t find out the water from his farm had blessed the IU portion of Lucas Oil’s field until after the game when Mauro’s wife sent him a video of Ewald pouring it out at the stadium.

“And I thought of Our Lady as like the 12th man on the field,” said Chartier, a priest with the Franciscan Friars of the Immaculate, who is stationed at the Mother of the Redeemer Retreat Center. “I thought she was there, especially with the field goal. Indoors, no wind, no rain, 27-yard field goal.

“I watched almost in disbelief as the kicker totally missed. I noted afterwards that the kicker was kicking into the same end zone with Indiana’s name on it, same end zone where Indiana had scored their touchdown in the third quarter and the same end zone that I saw Harold’s friend sprinkling the farm water in that video.”

• The Iowa Supreme Court is reviewing a 2024 law that allows law enforcement officers to appeal their placement on a Brady-Giglio list.
• A dispute between Jefferson County’s attorney and sheriff led to the sheriff being placed on the list, which identifies officers with credibility issues.
• The county attorney argues the law is unconstitutional because it lets judges interfere with a prosecutor’s duty to disclose evidence to defendants.

A feud between two Jefferson County officials has landed before the Iowa Supreme Court, which must decide if a 2024 addition to Iowa’s Rights of Peace Officers law is unconstitutional.

Jefferson County Attorney Chauncey Moulding is asking the state’s high court to overturn what he calls the “constitutionally vacuous” law, which allows officers to petition the courts to be removed from their county’s Brady-Giglio list.

Named for two U.S. Supreme Court decisions, the lists compiled by prosecutors identify law enforcement officers and others whose credibility is in question, and it can provide grounds for questioning their testimony in court.

After a dispute over a case involving a sheriff’s deputy’s use of force, Moulding in 2024 notified Jefferson County Sheriff Bart Richmond he was placing him on the Brady-Giglio list. Richmond petitioned a court to reverse Moulding’s decision, and a district judge did, finding Richmond’s actions in connection with the case, while unprofessional, did not bring his honesty or credibility into question.

In his appeal, Moulding argues that’s not up to the court to decide, and that the law lets judges improperly intrude on prosecutors’ professional judgment and, ultimately, defendants’ rights.

“The practical real application of (the 2024 law) is to create a Kafkaesque scenario where a criminal defendant could face the prospect of criminal charges involving a State witness who is so lacking in credibility that the State’s attorney has qualms about even calling him to testify, but is prevented from disclosure,” Moulding wrote. “Such a situation is unconscionable, and underlines the constitutional vacuousness of the statute itself.”