Daniel had told me that Detective Sergeant Peter Fox, whom he had met on the previous Monday, was a decent man who had reassured him that a fair investigation would take place. I thought about the bishop’s visit to Fletcher and then the repercussions of such a visit dawned on me. I find it hard even now to accept that it was anything other than a tip-off.
I knew Fletcher had inappropriate literature in his possession as he had tried to hand it around at a dinner party that he’d held at the presbytery years before. John and I were having dinner with him and three other parishioners, laughing and talking, when he fetched a manila folder from his room and said for us to look at his latest collection of funny pictures. Naively, I leant over only to see a sketch of a fisherman standing in the water with a fish nibbling his penis. I didn’t read the caption and I didn’t think it was funny. Too surprised to say much more than, “Yuk, I don’t want to see that,” I stood up and went into the kitchen to start the washing up. John also left the table and Fletcher called out to us that I was to make sure I didn’t see any penises out there either.
I was embarrassed and insulted and perhaps should have left the dishes for the other laughing guests, who were splitting their sides looking at the rest of the sheets in the folder. I felt like storming out but I didn’t. We finished the dishes and then left. Fletcher knew he had upset me because he apologised later. I’ve enjoyed plenty of risqué jokes in my life but not from a priest. Handing around smutty pages at your own dinner table is very poor form, I think. My immediate thought was that, because of the bishop’s warning, Fletcher would have disposed of any inappropriate material.
I also knew Fletcher’s reaction to criticism of any kind and knew he would be protesting his innocence, shoring up support for himself and generally character assassinating our family, given the chance. Now he had just been given that chance by his own Church under the guise of a visit of pastoral care from the bishop.
I rang Maitland Police Station on the Friday and asked to speak with Detective Fox. I was told he was on leave for a few days and asked whether anyone else could help. After being passed on to three more people and eventually leaving a message with the last one, I was told someone would get back to me.
Detective Fox rang me from his holiday on the Saturday morning. I did understand that Daniel’s visit to see him the previous Monday was very confidential but I wanted him to know of my concern that Fletcher had been tipped off. He was understandably furious and said that one of the important factors in an investigation was the initial confrontation with the alleged offender and the observation of how he reacted. The element of surprise was a legitimate investigative tool. No longer a tool in this case! He also said that he hoped the bishop had a good memory for he would surely find himself in the witness box. He said no doubt he would meet Daniel’s family as the matter progressed and he asked me to write down, to the best of my memory, the full content of the bishop’s phone call on the previous Wednesday.
The bishop rang back the next week to put me in touch with a counsellor. I was well supported by this person for the next three years and probably was kept sane through the whole traumatic saga. Despite my grievances with the bishop, the counselling was a very positive offer from him which I have greatly appreciated. When I finished my visits with that person I thought I was at peace but the ongoing repercussions of the damage to my son, my family and the extended family of friends as well, still affects my life very significantly and I often struggle with the grief. Loss of family relationships and loss of trust in Church are obstacles too large to climb over very often. Christmas has just passed and talk turns to church and attending so often. Again, I was told quietly by some people that they had either given up or refused to go because of what happened to Daniel and in particular by the Church’s perceived responses at the time of the police involvement.
One day during this time, I was visiting my mother, aged eighty-eight, at her residence which was in a Catholic Aged Care community down by Lake Macquarie, when I noticed Bishop Malone’s predecessor, retired Bishop Leo Clarke walking in the sun. We knew him quite well and had socialised with him on many occasions in the course of John’s employment. He lived in a self care unit in the same complex as my mother and I stopped to say hello to him. He asked about my health since my marriage break up and then about my troubled son. I made a quick decision to tell him about the investigation into Fletcher. Standing in the morning sun, I gave him a brief overview of Daniel’s disclosure and the subsequent police investigation. I had no idea of whether he already knew but he surprised me by saying
“Well Father Jim was always a bit of a worry. He always went home to mummy for a roast lunch on his day off and never socialised or played golf with his fellow priests. He used to drive us crazy at Bishop’s House with all those young fellows hanging around eating us out of food and he made a big man of himself swearing and smoking in front of the boys. His jokes left a lot to be desired in a priest.”
I was stunned at his reaction and thought about it later. In a way, he had recognised some aspects of the profile of a paedophile and had applied them to Fletcher very readily. Surely it’s reasonable to wonder why the hierarchy of the Catholic Church hadn’t initiated checks and balances to monitor such a man who exhibited such telling behaviour.
13
We were now in the second half of 2002. Daniel began to give his statement to the police and we held our breath again as he struggled with the trauma of remembrance. Later on we were made aware that Daniel would sit with Peter Fox and give his statement for a while but when it became clear to Peter that Daniel was emotionally exhausted he would cease the recollections and leave the process, going back to the police station a few days later. We learned that the priest started to abuse Daniel when he was a little boy in Year 7 and the abuse continued for about five years. There were over eighty occasions of offences in that time and we were further overwhelmed with the pain of the knowledge. He was working in a very busy environment and found it difficult to be with the police for a few hours and then go back to work and be the motivated people person he was supposed to be in that particular job. His staff management skills were well developed and he was more comfortable being the leader rather than a reliant person.
It must have been very hard for him at this time. The months rolled by and he would occasionally talk in general terms of the abuse and his statement. I was shattered to learn that he was still at a very preliminary stage of the process after a few months. As mentioned before, I knew the priest would be busy talking about his innocence. I finally met Detective Peter Fox and he assured me the whole thing was progressing but given the nature of the allegations it was not unusual for the length of time being taken. We were worried about Daniel’s depression and stress levels and he gave me his guarantee that I could call him night or day if I needed help. That was a great relief.
Many people who saw Daniel struggling with anger and alcohol abuse didn’t know the cause. As the months went by, more people learned the story. Some of them were told by the priest’s friends and others by Daniel himself in the grip of upset. I don’t suppose any of Fletcher’s supporters actually questioned why Daniel was exhibiting such signs of distress. Certainly as Daniel’s depression worsened and he was hospitalized, more people found out the cause. The overwhelming reaction from people who were made aware of the trauma he had been subjected to, and was experiencing then, was that it explained the way Daniel had been living his life since leaving school. Every single person offered love and support and no judgement which was a rather telling reaction and may have been a comfort to Daniel if he had known. We were in a very difficult position as to whether we should convey the positive feelings to Daniel and that would alert him to the knowledge that people knew of the abuse or to keep silent.
Time edged forward. The last half of 2002 will forever be remembered by me and surely most of the family as being incredibly difficult. I think we were holding our breath and wondering just what was happening to us a
s upset followed upset, pain after pain. My dearest friend of forty years, Sharyn, lost her battle with cancer. I cannot write in this genre about her bravery and our pain. A wonderful person whose friendship and love still raises me up and will forever.
My home was burgled and precious items were stolen. Not worth anything at all on the street market but of immeasurable sentimental value to me. You cannot replace with insurance your deceased father’s watch or the photos of your sick friend on her last visit to your home. These photos were still in the camera which was taken. I collapsed at work and was hospitalised for a week’s bed rest which probably gave me some strength to cope with Sharyn’s death, late in November, my mother’s stroke in December and the unrelenting pressure of the investigation into the priest.
The one bright and joyful event of that time was the birth of Daniel’s little son. It felt so good to have something to celebrate and I can tell you he was and is a most joyful little fellow.
I cried very bitter tears on that New Year’s Eve as we counted down the minutes to midnight at my caravan where I always find peace and where I have run to many times to escape from the pressure of the situation. The next morning the red wine stains on the back of my sister’s good white shirt were a puzzle as we soaked, it until I had a memory flash of me crying on her shoulder with a glass of wine in my hand. She has forgiven me! Daniel arrived for a visit on New Year’s Day and we rejoiced in the ten-day-old baby and hoped that the year would be better. Wrong!
As the weeks went by, we could see a pattern to the struggles of Daniel. He would spend hours with the police and then come home exhausted and upset. His statement was taking considerable time to give because it involved details of his whole association with Fletcher from the initial meeting, the grooming period and then the years of abuse. Daniel was very drained and needed to go slow with breaks to recover. He was having counselling arranged by the police and he said at the time it was helping him to just get through his days. He suffered from a post traumatic stress disorder and was hospitalised for a time for his own safety. That was difficult for him and his partner and the little children. They certainly couldn’t understand what was the matter with their daddy. I started to give my statement to the police in February and then had an understanding of the time it was taking Daniel to complete his.
As the time for me to begin talking to the police approached, I decided to talk to Daniel. We had respected his privacy and had not broached the subject of what was covered in his statement to the police. I had to steel myself not to ask about details such as when he had met the priest or how the abuse had evolved. However, I needed to hear something from him to help me face the reality of the whole story. We sat quietly one afternoon on a couch at home and I asked him if he could tell me anything that he felt would help me get a grip on the situation. He sat for a while, then looked at me directly. He was struggling to commence speaking and I said for him not to worry about trying to explain anything. He then surprised me by saying the words
“The St. Christopher medal. He (Fletcher) had one stuck on the dash board of his car to keep him safe while driving. I used to wonder what would happen if the medal could talk and tell someone what was going on in his car.”
I knew that medal and Fletcher had referred to it once when I drove him in his car to concelebrate a funeral in Sydney. He jerked his thumb towards it and said “That little fellow will keep us safe!”
Enough! More than enough!
On the day I was to start giving my statement to the police I drove slowly towards Maitland, trying to stay calm so that my words would be coherent. I had left myself plenty of time for the half hour drive but as I approached Maitland, I began to get upset. Memories of the priest’s involvement in my family began to bubble around in my head and so I pulled into a little park located about ten minutes from the town centre. I was actually physically sick. I was alone. I remembered the meals I’d cooked for him, zucchini pie was his favourite, and the buttons I’d sown on his black shirts. Exchanges of Christmas and birthday gifts and dinner parties for his mother and sister and social gatherings with other friends of his were past memories that crowded into my thoughts. Dozens of snippets of conversations I had had with him were also recalled and I remembered the times we had asked him for advice when we were worried about Daniel.
What monster could reassure us that all teenage boys started to seek independence and break away from the family mould when he was the cause of Daniel’s confusion and depression? A paedophile could. Those worrying incidents from the past when Daniel went missing and then the time his clothes went missing had taken on a sinister importance and I knew that my good memory, which the boys and my husband had often teased me about, would be an asset this time.
I drank some water, called on my wonderful deceased dad who had a fierce sense of fairness, to guide me, invoked St. Christopher himself to walk with me and resumed my journey. My statement took about thirteen hours over a few appointments. I believe Daniel’s took over fifty odd hours. Poor, poor boy.
14
By now, knowledge of the investigation was shared with others as Daniel confided in some people in his upset, and as the priest’s cronies quietly protested their friend’s innocence. Much was made of Daniel’s alcohol abuse, emotional instability and work changes. Obviously, these caring pastoral people hadn’t been educated about the effects of sexual abuse on a victim’s life. I hope they now have a clearer understanding so they just may be able to help the next victim who crosses their paths.
During this time Father James Fletcher was still playing an active role as Parish Priest of Branxton. Even though the Bishop knew of the allegations against Fletcher and had been advised by the police to remove him from his workplace and away from contact with children, he chose not to. In addition he had actually increased Fletcher’s power base by giving him Lochinvar Parish to look after as well. The Bishop’s lack of understanding about paedophilia being aligned to power and not to physical strength was worrying to say the least.
In his pastoral letter just after Fletcher’s arrest, the Bishop wrote that he had sought advice from the NSW Professional Standards Office, and had sought clarity about the risk potential of the priest as per NSW Child Protection Legislation. He then said that he decided to leave Father Fletcher in place, “aware also of his poor health and near fatal stroke a few years ago.” I and many others could not understand his reasoning. If Fletcher’s health was so poor, then what was he doing servicing two parishes, country ones at that, where a fair amount of driving was required anyway?
The Bishop has learned and accepted much since then about the reporting protocols and I expect he will do things differently in the future. The Church’s own professional guidelines were basic but adequate and if adhered to, would have made our journey more bearable. However, the Bishop shouldn’t have had to learn about pastoral care. Surely that is an expectation in the Church and we didn’t see much of it all throughout our horrible struggle.
In my discussions with Detective Fox I realised that he was very frustrated that the priest was still in his parish. He wondered if he was confined to the presbytery. I decided to phone the Catholic School at Branxton to ask about enrolling my children at the school. I was lying of course and did not have any primary age children. I asked if there were any priests in the parish and I was assured that Father Fletcher was indeed in residence and was regularly at the school visiting the children and interacting with them on the playground as well. Detective Fox was very interested to learn that Fletcher seemed to be enjoying a rather close association with the children of his parish. I did hear later, but not from this school source, that he also had an infants’ reading group. The thought of that still makes me shudder.
I believe a formal complaint was made by Detective Fox at this stage to the office of the NSW Ombudsman. I have never been able to ascertain what transpired but I do know pressure was put on the Bishop to get him out of the parish and away from children immediately. Then and only th
en, was he removed. The parish bulletin of the time states that Father Fletcher was on sick leave and prayers were asked for him. No prayers were asked for my son. That was in March, 2003.
It was in this period that Daniel completed his statement, from his hospital bed. During the course of the investigation he had been hospitalized twice as the stress of his situation had caused him to become depressed and desperate. His doctor watched over him compassionately and respectfully and we were all very grateful to her for her kindness and professionalism. Daniel’s family supported him as well and we were also comforted by the visits from Detective Fox and his assisting police officer. They were able to give my son a vision of the future when all the stress and pain would recede. Daniel was taken to various locations where assaults were alleged to have happened and photos were taken. How stressful that must have been for him. His father and I and Daniel’s counsellor went to Maitland Police Station on the morning his statement was completed. We sat in the police staffroom, in the strangest of atmospheres.
We met our son’s counsellor for the first time and with confidentiality issues hanging between us, we both thanked her for looking after Daniel and she told us we had an amazing son. She left to go and support Daniel while he signed his statement and John put his head down on the table and cried. I was emotional too but it was overridden by relief that we had got to a point of some conclusion. John told me it had just hit him and that he had believed Daniel but at that point it had really sunk in.
Police officers in and out of that lunch room were all cheerful, supportive and those in the know were very respectful of Daniel. We smiled when we were offered coffee for the eleventh time. We did drink a few. We asked Detective Fox what we could expect to happen next and were told that they would now be working towards interviewing Fletcher. I can’t speak for the rest of the family but I know I was apprehensive about that because of the time that had elapsed since Daniel had first approached the police and I knew Fletcher would have been well prepared for the coming interview. No surprises for him. I think Daniel went back to the hospital for another night.
Holy Hell Page 6