From the age of seven I faced a number of incidents of abuse. They have stayed with me all my life. I remember a nun once encouraged me to expose myself in front of her and cough, while other children looked in through the window and laughed. One summer, my mother, a devout Catholic, sent me to stay at the local priest’s house.
I was given a single bed in the lounge. He showered me with presents. Along with the sherry, he told me some of presents had to be kept secret, such as an air rifle. I now know this is classic grooming behaviour. He abused me repeatedly. I stared into the open fire and watched the flames while he took advantage of me. I returned home laden with my gifts and my secrets.
It wasn’t until I was 24 years old that I was able to talk about the abuse. My mother was horrified. When I was 30 I received counselling and made the decision to pursue the priest to have him prosecuted.
I contacted the Catholic Church but they were not prepared to discuss or disclose the priest’s whereabouts. By the time I discovered where the priest had moved to, he had passed away. Although I was robbed of being able to hold the priest to account, I took some solace in having made the personal decision to seek him out. But you never forget.
21 February 2019, The Tablet
Child sex abuse: Christ-centred values are the key to rehabilitating offenders
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