Holy Hell

by Patricia Feenan

  During the time Daniel was living with Belinda, they decided to move to Nelson Bay, a lovely coastal area. Her mother lived there and could help with babysitting if she could get a job. The little girls were about five and seven. The couple struggled with their finances and employment for her was vital if they were going to move ahead at all. It was a bit of a hopeless situation really and I had quite a few phone calls from her as she objected to Daniel’s drinking patterns.

  His twenty-first birthday was a small family celebration with a couple of close friends. We have a photo of him cutting his cake with the two little girls, one on each knee. It wasn’t quite the celebration we had in mind for our eldest son. He was only fourteen years older than the eldest little girl.

  On one memorable evening, I was at a parish council meeting and received a call from John to say that Daniel had turned up at the Nelson Bay presbytery and was drunk and abusive. The parish priest was worried and didn’t know what to do. I was half an hour away in the opposite direction so John rang a friend to drive him over – he himself had had a few drinks and couldn’t drive. Meanwhile, I rang the priest, not Father Fletcher but the one complaining about Daniel, and asked him to ring the police. He told me that Daniel was shouting out some weird things about priests and sex.

  Interestingly, I remember when I mentioned to the priest at the meeting I was attending that night that I was upset and told him about the latest incident with Daniel, he said he couldn’t help me as he was “off duty” at 9.30. It was then 9.45 pm. It didn’t seem to occur to him that I had just driven thirty minutes to run his parish council meeting on a week night and that I had worked all day.

  Years later, when the abuse allegations came out, Daniel explained what had set him off that night. That day, Daniel was at the local RSL club at lunchtime with Belinda and was noticed by the parish priest of Nelson Bay and a fellow priest who were having lunch together. The second priest knew Daniel quite well; he had often been around when we socialised with one particular family who were close friends of the priest. Later when Belinda left, the two priests spoke to Daniel and asked him what he was doing with his life. One of them made the smart comment that the trouble with Daniel was that he was not thinking with his head but rather “with his dick.” Although such a comment from a man might not normally be particularly offensive, coming from a man of the cloth it was unusual to say the least. I guess that Daniel drank on with the comment festering away and finally found himself at the fellow’s presbytery angry, indignant and upset. Years later, when that particular priest was asked to provide a statement to police describing that very telling incident, he baulked. On the Friday, he was willing to go and give a statement but on the Monday, he did not turn up at the police station. When asked to explain, he said that really, Daniel was only saying that his parents didn’t understand him. Poor memory, or influenced in some way or just plain gutless?

  Both Belinda and Daniel decided to seek work in Sydney and in fact, Daniel landed a good job with Westpac. They moved and it wasn’t very long before the relationship ended. Perhaps Daniel looked around to see what other twenty-two-year-olds were doing with their lives. Certainly not enduring a long train trip home to the western suburbs and then sitting up with home readers and homework activities with their partner’s children.

  I remember the day that my youngest son and I drove, full of hope, to Sydney to help Daniel move to another home. It was a day of uninterrupted torrential rain and not much daylight. I collected him from a mate’s place in the inner city at Alexandria and then we drove to Blacktown to collect the rest of his possessions. He had moved out about a fortnight before and had found a great place to rent over in Manly. So, still smiling but getting a little grimfaced by then, because I was driving in such terrible conditions, we set out for the new abode, loaded to the gunnels with his gear. After a few hours, we left him waving us goodbye from the footpath after settling him in and having a very late lunch at a lovely pub in Manly.

  It was a long trip home but happy enough as I mused optimistically about his new direction and that he had distanced himself from the wholly mad notion that he could be the head of a family of four at the age of twenty two years.

  9

  It wasn’t long before Daniel was telling us about employment opportunities in Tasmania. The bank was setting up a new call centre in Launceston and Daniel was keen to go there. We were pleased about the career advancement and supported his new venture. We were certain he had the potential and personality for a great career in dealing with the public and hoped that the new position was the beginning. Gradually we began to hear of a girl who was also going to the Apple Isle and we correctly guessed that she was influential in Daniel’s decision to go. More carting of stuff down to him was carried out in preparation for his departure. I remember taking his golf clubs and a BIG cricket bag in the luggage compartment of the bus I was travelling on with forty other women for a shopping weekend. Daniel collected his gear from our hotel in the next few days.

  Our whole family had a beautiful last day with him in Sydney. We travelled on the ferry over to Manly and had a great meal together and then we journeyed to the airport to say farewell. It was a lovely day and we were all so happy for Daniel and had such positive hopes that he would move forward.

  The last few months of 1998 passed quickly and without any worries about our eldest son. The news from Tasmania was always positive and we gradually relaxed and thought the worst was over. We had learned that his new partner was eight years older than he was and knew that she would probably be ready to settle down sooner than he would be, but that wasn’t really a worry at all.

  We had sold our home in November and were busy packing and planning our new home, which was to be built in the area but on a smaller block of land. Our other sons were progressing with career, university and school and we were happy. Our second son celebrated his twenty-first birthday with a great party and we were very proud of his achievements and told him so in our speeches. Daniel’s lifestyle had affected all the boys and we were mindful that they all be given the chance to shine. Dominic had just completed his HSC and was hoping to study in Canberra. We were sad he might be leaving us but delighted that he had a good idea of the direction he wanted his life to take. Presents arrived from Tassie for the twenty-first and for Christmas. I realised that Daniel was also forward planning and that was cheering in itself.

  Daniel started playing cricket in Launceston and had lots of funny cricket stories to tell us. John, Bernard and I had a holiday in Tasmania where we met Kim, the girlfriend, and we took a little tour around the countryside. We were thrilled to see Daniel looking well but a little anxious that he seemed to be drinking heavily at times. Kim complained about him a fair bit and said that she loathed cricket so I wondered about their future. They became engaged a few months later and I concluded that together, they had worked out their issues. They began to plan their wedding and Daniel asked Father Fletcher if he would come to Tasmania to marry him. I’ve naturally wondered about that since. When I asked Daniel, “What was your idea in wanting that man to perform the ceremony?” he said that he wanted Fletcher to look at him and know that he, Fletcher, had lost him forever to Kim.

  Fletcher refused to travel to Tasmania saying that he was frightened to fly over water. I remember offering to drive him down and he said there would be a lot of paperwork to complete as the wedding was in a different state and he would need to get permission from the cardinal. I doubt the truth of this because I was told later that he was happy to travel to Western Australia to visit his sister and carry out priestly duties there. I thought it was a pathetic excuse and told him so but I didn’t push the paperwork angle as I decided that if it was too much trouble for an old friend, then we didn’t want him there anyway. We still didn’t know what had occurred between him and Daniel, so his refusal of such an important role left us feeling very disappointed.

  He rang one day and asked if I could call up to Branxton so that he could give me a s
ample of some pew decorations for Daniel’s and Kim’s wedding. Then he’d be there in spirit, he said. I did go up and he produced an arrangement of tulle and ribbon, in black, for me to take down to Daniel on my next visit. I remember saying it was a wedding not a funeral and he said he didn’t think Daniel would worry about the colour. Hindsight is great, but was he sending Daniel a not-so-subtle message?

  The pew decorations were not needed however as the engagement was called off. Daniel was very upset but Kim said she couldn’t marry him as he was difficult when he drank. There had been a few episodes when he showed his underlying anger and distress and we came to realise that Daniel had trouble maintaining relationships because of this. Over the next few months, we all travelled separately to see him as we were using up the air tickets we had purchased for the wedding.

  He flew home for a family wedding near Moree in the March and it was a magic time. The ten cousins rejoiced in being together and we all enjoyed a fantastic country wedding. There was some solid drinking over that Easter and I can honestly say that Daniel, for a change, wasn’t the worst offender. When we gather now, the stories flow and we laugh again about the really funny incidents that probably happen at all home weddings. It was a happy family occasion and timely and I thought Daniel would reconnect with all the people who were special to him. He did and I was truly happy for him.

  But I was also sad that a definite rift was beginning to widen between his father and myself. This story is not about my other pain; however, my husband’s hectic work schedule, self-medication with alcohol for his pain and our emotional exhaustion from worrying about Daniel definitely contributed to the marriage breakdown. We separated in November 2000. Since the family wedding in March, we had worried about Daniel as his life spiralled out of control again. Quite a few of his friends in Launceston rang us and expressed concern about his lifestyle. A new relationship had also ended.

  After all our hopes, it appeared that Daniel’s life was again spiralling out of control.

  10

  On the 4th of December 2000, Daniel rang from Tasmania to say that he had been off work and was very stressed. When I asked him why, he said it was because of our marriage break-up and other things. He said he had seen a doctor and had been referred to a psychiatrist. I told him I thought that it was a good move as it was obvious he had been having problems for years, had unexplained anger and whatever the matter was, it needed fixing. Daniel agreed and then there was silence.

  I cannot explain why – call it what you will – but I had a moment of mother’s intuition and said “Daniel, I want to ask you something and I want you to give me an honest answer. Have you ever been sexually abused?” I had fretted and searched for an explanation of his behaviour for some time and perhaps that was the one question that I had not asked before. After a short silence he whispered “Yes.”I was stunned and asked him “Can you tell me about it?” Through tears he said “I have trouble getting over it and I will go along for a while and then it will come back to haunt me.” “Of course it will!” I declared indignantly,” Who hurt you?” He said “I don’t want to tell you over the phone but when I come home this Friday, I will talk about it then.” I told him I loved him and he said that he loved me too and then we ended our conversation.

  I sat on my bed trying to work out why I had asked that particular question. I wondered who, where and how and also about the degree of seriousness. The boys had often accused me of being over-protective and so I was particularly puzzled at the ‘how.’ From what I knew of sexual abuse victims, I realized that Daniel fitted the profile with his anger and excesses, his mood swings, lack of confidence and lack of abiding self-respect. I cried for Daniel. Luke was home that night and after a while, I went and told him what Daniel had just said. He stared at me for about thirty seconds and then started to cry, saying that he believed that was exactly what was the matter with his brother and why on earth hadn’t we thought of it before. Brotherly vibes perhaps added to his professional health background.

  When Luke went home, I rang both my sisters and told them what Daniel had said. Through all their nephew’s traumas, they had been loving and unstinting in their support of me and they had both tried to talk to Daniel many times. One lived near Moree and one in Sydney and they both suggested that the abuser would be Father Jim. I was astounded.

  Separately, they both said that they thought the intensity of Fletcher’s interest in their nephew had been unusual. I thought of other possible people who had been in Daniel’s life but acknowledged that the priest had always been very interested in him. The next morning I rang his father, he came to the house and we had a coffee and talked about the latest news. We were in no doubt that something had caused our son to struggle with his life. I had never been able to understand or source his anger and I couldn’t reconcile myself to the knowledge that he just didn’t seem to care about himself when, to our knowledge, he had every reason to be very proud of his achievements. I started to think about Father Fletcher.

  Sexual abuse could explain his pain. John and I had been apart for a month and most of our conversations still figured Daniel. It was overwhelming because we knew something was wrong with him but up until then, we had no idea of the cause and so there had been no chance of a cure. At least we now knew the reason and we were very anxious to learn who the abuser was.

  When Daniel came home the following Friday he said the abuse had happened and he agreed he needed professional help. He said he wasn’t prepared to give details and that was frustrating but we had to respect his wishes. He had a night out with Luke and Dominic and they all came home in a taxi about 2.00 am. I know the boys were hoping he might tell them something of the abuse.

  They were all so emotional that they began to argue and then Daniel broke down and cried that he had been raped when he was younger. The boys and I were upset and tried to calm him down but he was much more upset than we were and threatened violence, an immediate return to Launceston and suicide.

  Dom rang the police after Daniel became more violent to say we needed help. However, Luke was able to sit out on the front verandah near Daniel and use his health related expertise to talk Daniel down out of the rage. Dom and I decided that it would be best if the police didn’t come so poor Dominic hurried up to the corner to flag them down and tell them that we didn’t need them after all. I succeeded in talking to the police myself by phone and said Luke had mental health experience and was making a good job of calming his brother. They agreed to abort the callout but gave me a direct number to ring if things didn’t improve.

  Daniel eventually agreed to go to bed, thanks to Luke’s wisdom and skill, and then I walked up to the corner and told Dominic the crisis was over. He was cold, upset and by then, completely sober. It was about 4 am. The boys told me they were going to Branxton the next morning with two bricks to deal with the person who had assaulted their brother although they had promised Daniel not to tell me.

  I was anxious that they might take it into their heads to drive if they woke in the night, so I gathered all the car keys and hid them. I spent the rest of the night sitting bolt upright in bed, listening for any sound that might indicate that the boys were awake and that the fuss would start again. The next morning the boys told me that Daniel had confirmed our suspicions: Father Fletcher was the one who had assaulted him. He also informed them that it had taken place on the night of his suicide attempt when he had been taken up to Branxton Presbytery. I was appalled. Daniel confirmed the story to me when he woke and he said he didn’t want to talk about it at that stage.

  John, Luke, Dominic and I took him to the airport when he went back to Tasmania and urged him to seek professional help. We also stressed that we loved him and that we would support him in whatever way he wanted. Disclosing the abuse to us had been a monumental leap for Daniel and we understood that he didn’t want the police involved at that stage.

  He had a few very rocky months after that and we learned he was sinking into debt as he drank and gambl
ed. There was no steadying influence in his life down there. He decided to transfer to Brisbane, packed up what few possessions he still owned and drove home. He called in and had one night with me on his way up the coast. I did try to talk to him about the abuse but he was reluctant and I let the matter drop. We completed a sorting out of his clothes and I found myself back in the laundry, washing and folding but not humming at all. I will forever hate those red and blue striped plastic bags which were always used by Daniel in his ‘running away’ years. I have gathered them from many abodes and on many occasions a knock on the door preceded Daniel and his bags as he moved home yet again. Sometimes the bags just arrived but without Daniel for a day or so.

  I had been given three little saplings and hadn’t planted them. We shared a good half an hour together while he planted them with me.

  As they have grown, I have watched them and in some way, they have been a connection to my pained son. I watered them regularly so they would survive and they are tall and strong.

  He left the next morning and I hoped that a change might be good. Of course, I lent him the money for the accommodation bond on a new flat.

  On Friday the 13th April 2001, at about 2.00am, I had another upsetting phone call from Daniel. He said he had hurt himself by throwing himself under a small truck and was at a hospital north of Brisbane. He was very distressed, drunk and in shock and said he couldn’t keep going. He had tried unsuccessfully to reach his father. He asked me to try and then his phone went dead. I did reach his father and discovered that he had a girlfriend and was sleeping over at her place. Pain. Double pain.

  It was Good Friday and I spent a miserable day although the friends I reached out to were wonderfully supportive. A niece and her husband arrived from Sydney as planned for Easter and she capably assumed the role of hostess, poor kid. I cried all day; it was certainly a low point in my life. Apparently, I said more than once that it was a very Black Friday and that became a source of black humour to at least one of my sons. It has paled into insignificance for me as the terrible truth about the abuse has unfolded.