Cardinal William H. Keeler, leader of America's oldest Roman Catholic diocese, walked up to the defense table in a Baltimore courtroom yesterday and shook the hand of a man who admits to shooting a Roman Catholic priest.

The cardinal was called as a witness in the attempted-murder trial of Dontee D. Stokes, who confessed to shooting the Rev. Maurice J. Blackwell nine years after the priest is alleged to have raped him.

"I apologize to him," the cardinal said calmly during 15 minutes of testimony in Baltimore Circuit Court in which he expressed regret for being unable to prevent alleged abuse that has riveted attention on the trial, Stokes and the Catholic church.

The drama of the cardinal's testimony was supplanted only by that of the defendant, who testified for three hours that he experienced an out-of-body feeling when, on May 13, he shot Blackwell three times from close range on a Reservoir Hill street.

Stokes said that moments before the shooting, he saw a white light coming from above his head. It was like a movie playing scenes of the alleged abuse back to him, and his eyes rolled back into his head, Stokes testified.

"I felt like something came in, and I left out," he said. He testified that the only other time he felt that way was when he was a teen-ager and, he alleges, the priest was sexually abusing him. "I kind of went out of myself, it was like I wasn't there anymore. I felt like I was going to wake up and not be there."

He said that when he shot Blackwell, he could see the back of his own head, and he tried to reach for his arm to stop himself.

Stokes' attorney, Warren A. Brown, told the jury that the shooting was driven by a mental disorder Stokes had been suffering because of the alleged abuse. He has vehemently argued that Stokes should not go to prison. Prosecutor Sylvester Cox told the jury that Stokes shot the clergyman because he felt "disrespected" by him.

Stokes told the jury that Blackwell gradually began making sexual advances toward him when he was 13, the same time the priest appointed him head of the church's youth group, which gave Stokes social status.

"Being involved in the youth group made my life complete," he said. "I felt it was something God chose for me."

Stokes said he was confused by the alleged touching but didn't want to stay away from church. The advances continued, until one day Blackwell raped him, Stokes testified.

During the first moments of the alleged assault, Stokes said, he submitted to the priest out of fear. But then, he said, he quickly jumped up, grabbed his clothes and ran out of the rectory. He never went back.

"This is somebody I wanted to be like," Stokes said, his voice cracking. "I looked up to him. I knew him all my life."

After the alleged abuse, Stokes said, he withdrew from everyone. He was tormented by it and eventually told a therapist. The counselor alerted authorities, and soon after, the story was in the news media. The church rallied behind Blackwell, and Stokes said he felt like an outcast. He had no physical evidence to prove the alleged abuse happened.

Stokes' mother, Tamara Stokes, tearfully testified about how she saw her son disconnecting from society but didn't know what to do. She is a devout Catholic, she said, and encouraged her son's participation in the church. "The church turned their back on me, everyone turned their back on me," she said. "There was no help."

Her testimony was so heartfelt that several jurors' eyes welled up with tears. One was so emotional that a fellow juror passed a tissue across the jury box to her. The jury is made up of 11 women and one man.

Baltimore Police Lt. Fred Roussey, who investigated Stokes' claims in 1993, testified yesterday that he believed Stokes and pushed for the state's attorney's office to press charges against Blackwell. But that never happened.

Blackwell pleaded the Fifth Amendment in court this week, declining to answer questions on the grounds it may incriminate him. He has never been charged in the alleged abuse, though he is under investigation because of Stokes' claims.

The cardinal, who in 1993 was the archbishop of Baltimore, testified yesterday that he took Stokes' allegation of abuse "very seriously" when it came to light that year. He removed Blackwell from the parish, St. Edward Roman Catholic Church in West Baltimore, for 90 days and sent him for a psychological and spiritual evaluation.

When Blackwell returned, Keeler reinstated him, a move he said he now regrets. "Given the same information we have now, I certainly would not do that again." Keeler testified.

He said that at the time that Blackwell offered a "consistent, persevering denial of the allegations." Keeler allowed Blackwell back to the parish under "restricted" circumstances, including that he could have no ministry with young children, must move out of the rectory and must seek counseling.

Stokes' lawyer asked the cardinal yesterday whether the restrictions came too late for Stokes. "I admit it, and I apologize to him," the cardinal said.

In 1998, Blackwell was removed from the congregation and suspended from his priestly functions after he admitted to sexually abusing a teen-ager in the 1970s.

Years after the alleged abuse, Stokes testified, he seemingly moved on with his life. He became a barber, found a girlfriend and fathered a daughter.

He testified that he would sometimes see Blackwell around town. On a few occasions, Stokes said, he wanted to talk to Blackwell, but the two never spoke. The night of the shooting, Stokes was in his car on his way to pick up his girlfriend, Tiffani Taft, when he saw Blackwell standing outside his home. He had a gun in his bag, he testified, because he was removing it from his house at the request of his aunt, who had just moved in with him.

He said he wanted to talk to the priest and possibly come to some form of resolution about the years of alleged abuse. He said he wasn't thinking about the gun when he stopped his car and called Blackwell over: "I didn't feel like I had any bad feelings toward him. I wasn't beyond forgiving him."

But then, he said, Blackwell leaned in to the car and seemed to pretend not to recognize him.

"I'm thinking: 'How can you ignore me? I know you know who I am,'" Stokes said. "I wasn't expecting that. Then I lost it. Everything went black."

One of the last gestures by the cardinal as he left the courtroom yesterday was to shake Stokes' hand a second time.

Closing arguments in the case are expected today.