Holy Hell

by Patricia Feenan

  Of course in reply, Mr Barker QC tried to discredit the Crown witnesses. He disputed the Prosecution’s view, saying that the alleged victim was “unlikely in the extreme to be telling the truth” and that he had made up deliberate lies and monstrous accusations. He again mentioned money as a motive for the accusations. I had learned earlier that when he actually put this supposition to Daniel when he was cross examining him, Daniel had said a very definite “no” and added the question

  “Do you think I would put my whole family through this?” Barker also told the court that the priest would have had “a death wish” to engage in oral and anal sex with a young boy in public, especially when his personalised number plates “advertised” his presence. He mentioned the evidence of his Defence witnesses and concluded his summation.

  This had all taken quite a few hours and we were all feeling a bit overloaded with words and emotions. For me, the mother, the grief at hearing the details of my boy’s abuse was overwhelming and shocking. I stood about uncertainly as a feeling of numbness enveloped me and tried to think what I had to do next. In my heightened sense of motherhood, I had begun to feel responsible for everyone.

  A close friend of mine, who is also my doctor, took one look at me and suggested that we might leave the Court House and find a quiet little spot for coffee. I guess she was wearing both her hats at that stage. The forty minute break was beneficial and I did try to relax but I know my mind was back at that bloody courthouse. We drove back and I know the family looked at me anxiously and at her gratefully. The normality of dispensing sandwiches and cups of tea had been very helpful to the supporters who stayed at the Courthouse. Mindless but welcome routines!

  As we milled about outside, the press gallery spoke to us. No names were exchanged, although I realised they knew damn well who we were. I mentioned to one lady that it was nearly over and she said it would still be a while as the judge had to speak. She was right. I went to the bathroom and glanced into the Defence’s room. I think I was wondering where Big Red was and would she elbow me again.

  They were praying and I bet Daniel wasn’t included in their prayers.

  23

  After noticing the praying supporters of the priest, it struck me again that throughout the whole trial, our family had not seen, in our room, one religious representative of the diocese or in fact the Catholic Church. I knew various priests had popped in “to wish Jim well” and assure him of support and one of these men has since told me that he didn’t “like” to come near us in case it upset us. That has to be the all time weakest statement. We were already as upset as we could be and a visit may just have helped us cope. We, at the time, were a room full of Catholic people who had lived their faith well and at the time were emulating Christ himself by showing love and compassion to one another. We had with us through those dark days, four ex-school captains of Catholic secondary schools, my two sisters who were both Religious Education Co-Ordinators of their respective Catholic schools, numerous Ministers of the Eucharist and assorted Ministers of the Word,(readers at mass) plus church cleaners. We were a very Catholic flock but we lacked a shepherd.

  We listened to the judge sum up the whole trial. Once again, I heard about the crimes against my son and the arguments for and against the alleged charges. Through a blur of tears and anger, I heard Daniel described by the judge as convincing, credible and courageous. Good enough. The instructions to the jury were long and complex and I hoped they were listening carefully. The judge finished speaking and the jury left to consider the case and their verdict. I gazed at them as they filed out of the courtroom and willed them to find justice for Daniel.

  In our room, we waited. The police, DPP officers and supporters all said they hoped we had all done enough for a conviction. I was tortured with missed opportunities and perceived lack of clarity of some of the statements. Throughout the trial, I had sat at night writing notes to pass to the Prosecution team about some of the anomalies and they were very courteous as they read what I had written. I tried not to be tiresome and I know I don’t possess a clever legal brain but I was the mother and felt disempowered.

  What was plain to me became lost in legalese rebuttals even if I had made a valid point. What did reassure me was the statement from the DPP staff saying that they thought they were presenting a strong case and they did not want to muddy the waters with peripheral issues. They explained that Daniel had been an excellent witness, and of course I hadn’t seen him in the witness box, and they were not worried at all about obscure dates and the likes.

  I had written about similarities between Glandular fever and tonsillitis and I had quickly sourced the medical reports, which they had asked me to get, to prove that Dan had experienced symptoms of both conditions for a couple of years when he was a teenager. The reports were obtained because Daniel had asserted that he missed school one February after the holidays when he had Glandular fever and in the cross examination the school roll was produced and didn’t support his statement. It certainly did later in the year when he had been absent after another lot of school holidays. I hoped a jury member would turn the pages and see these documented absences. Daniel said later that he just knew he was very sick with a swollen throat in one lot of school holidays and couldn’t return to school.

  We had an uneasy lunch and there was talk of how long the jury would be out. A sheriff explained to us that if the jury members had a question to ask the judge, then all court personnel had to go back into the court room and that included the priest. After nearly two hours we were told the jury had a question so in we all filed. I stared at the jury members’ faces trying to see if there were any indications as to what they were thinking. One man glanced in our direction but he also looked at the priest.

  The question that had brought us all back in to the court room was about the number of parishes Fletcher had been in. I believe it was something like

  “Is it usual for Catholic priests to serve in so many parishes?”

  I’m not sure if the jury received a helpful answer and I don’t believe there was anyone in that courtroom qualified to venture an opinion on that. They all trooped out and we returned to our room. I remember saying to John and Detective Fox that I believed the jury was on the right track as they were thinking about the priest’s past movements. Others weren’t sure and disagreed.

  Throughout the afternoon we were relieved that Daniel and some of the boys stopped smoking for a while and had a few games of cards. It was an interesting sight to see them sitting on the floor playing Euchre, a game which the boys had played every night in the caravan on our holidays. They could have been anywhere in the world. I reflected that Detective Peter Fox was a man for all seasons as he joined them for a couple of games and his supporting presence was much appreciated. At the end of the day and with still no word from the jury, we were told that we would be going home and that they would resume their deliberations the next day.

  The DPP liaison officer packed up her cards and commented that they had been a great success and she would bring them the next day. She asked if there were any other games we could think of that we might like and trust Paula, she immediately asked for Twister. The room erupted with laughter and we had a mental image of all those men in suits twirling and twisting round each other. We left the Court House in a lighter mood and hoped that the next day would be our last one there.

  Friday morning saw us back in the courthouse and I know we were all beginning to feel the tension of the last two weeks. Some official paperwork concerning witness expenses needed to be completed and that took a few hours. I hadn’t realised that we would actually be given an allowance for attending and was surprised. I think I knew that members of a jury get paid but again with no witness experience, I hadn’t given it a thought. I don’t know what the others did with theirs, but I was more than happy to give mine to the Salvos for their Christmas Appeal. I’m absolutely positive that many of the people they help are past victims of abuse and perhaps they weren’t lucky enoug
h to have supportive family and dedicated police working with them to seek justice.

  As we sat in our little room at the morning tea break we wondered about the jury. Cousin Paula said that if we had to come back on Monday, she would be bringing the Christmas tree to set up. We all laughed and then really started to worry about what the jury were thinking about. The DPP and police explained some of the scenarios if they weren’t able to reach a verdict. They talked of mixed results, hung juries and the remote but dreadful possibility of another trial. Just as we were thinking about lunch, the court officer came to the door and told us the jury was coming back in. Instant anxiety.

  As we found our seats once more in the court room, I noticed that Fletcher’s supporters were looking jaded as well. I wasn’t concerned about Fletcher as I believed and still do, that he could have made a terrible situation better by pleading guilty and sparing my son, our family and in fact his own family the distressing and very public trial. If they believed in him, I imagined they were traumatised by the whole process. They were victims also. The jury filed in and took their seats.

  I had prepared myself for the revelation that they couldn’t reach a verdict and held my breath as the judge read what they had written. Relief. They were requesting a copy of Judge Armitage’s legal instructions contained within his summation given the day before. There was a long and protracted discussion about the best method of obtaining such a copy and plans were made to take the original to Newcastle, with a police escort, to ensure a secure copy was made. The technology was not available in Maitland and both sides agreed that the jury could not have the original in case it was damaged. The tape and its escort left and we all dispersed for lunch.

  Over lunch, Dominic decided that he would probably go back to Canberra that night as it was looking as if there would be no conclusion. His employers were getting impatient and they were correct in saying that his official part was over. Later on that afternoon, at about 3.45pm, the oral tape arrived back at the East Maitland District Court and the jury returned to the court room half an hour later to request leave to continue their deliberations on the Monday. They were granted leave and so we faced another weekend of waiting.

  It was three weeks until Christmas Eve and I think we all talked about making some sort of an effort to get organised for it. Perhaps some Santa shopping would help but I don’t think any of us had the heart for it. Really, I believe we just scattered to our homes to start counting down the hours until Monday morning.

  I travelled to Newcastle to attend a Christmas celebration with kind people who had invited me to share their night. I didn’t know the other guests and I hoped that it would be a kind of escape but as Newcastle is a strange place where many people know many people, it wasn’t long before connections were made. As we were sitting round talking of Christmas and the end of the year, a lovely lady, a perfect stranger to me, just started to talk about the trial and said she knew who the father of the victim was, not personally though, and it was tough on the whole family especially because he worked for the Catholic Church.

  To speak or not to speak! I made a quick decision because I didn’t want the lady to be embarrassed later if she found out my identity so when she reiterated that it was a terrible ordeal for the victim I agreed and said quietly that I was his mother. Silence. I assured her that I wasn’t upset with her for speaking about it and in a way it improved my night as I had to lift myself to prove to her that she hadn’t ruined mine and in the end that cheerfulness commandeered my numbness and I had a very enjoyable night.

  The rest of the weekend crawled by. We compared notes and we had all mowed our lawns. Daniel and his family drove up to my caravan and had a break away from the phone and sitting on the beach at sunset is really good medicine. A couple of friends either dropped by or rang and somehow the hours slipped by.

  Worrying doesn’t help an outcome but we were all anxious. I know that Daniel said he didn’t have the stamina to go through it all again if the jury couldn’t decide and I agreed and said he could add the five of us to that as well.

  Sunday night found me praying. I was feeling pretty bitter that we had faced the whole ordeal, still without any word from the religious of the diocese and I wondered why they had been unable to support us. The mother of one of the other victims, the one whom I had met the week before, was also struggling with the knowledge that her family had been deserted by the very priests who had been part of her life up until her son disclosed his abuse. There was one exception. One brave priest had run the gauntlet of the wrath of fellow priests and the hierarchy and strongly supported that family.

  The other mother also found it hard to attend court and sit across from a nun who was the godmother of one of her children and who now had become a public supporter of the priest.

  My darling old mother was nearly ninety-one and completely unaware of what was happening in her family as she slipped away from us with her dementia but I was comforted by the knowledge that she would never know how we had been let down by her beloved church. Remembering her simplicity and resilience helped me to find peace that night. My prayers worked because I did sleep and felt calm as I drifted off.

  24

  Monday morning. Monday the 6th of December, four years to the day since Daniel had disclosed to me that he had been sexually abused. I drove to Court wondering if it would be another significant day and when I arrived and saw our loyal supporters arriving also, I was again overcome with feelings of awe as their lives were obviously on hold as they supported Daniel. They are wonderfully strong people and I will never forget their faith in us.

  Throughout the morning, I spoke with the other mother and learned more about her other children and the effect that their brother’s disclosure had had on them and their trust in the church. We had similar stories and similar pain and both wondered what paths our futures might take at the end of the legal proceedings. We thought that we might be able to help one another as we were in a rather unique situation.

  The morning dragged on and we had a coffee break. By then the media were talking freely to us and we trusted them not to print anything which might prejudice the case. They expressed amazement at the numbers of family and friends who had been present each day and acknowledged the difficulty of the days spent waiting.

  I would like to mention the reporter for the Catholic diocesan newspaper who had the onerous job of reporting the days at court to the Bishop and who had the journalistic responsibility of writing fairly about the criminal trial. In the early days of the trial she appeared very aloof and we were sad as she had taught the boys at school and her manner exacerbated their feelings of being forsaken by the church. However, as the trial progressed we began to share a greeting or smile and the awkwardness abated. I’m sure she still maintained her neutrality but we were the better for the eye contact.

  After it was all over, she apologised for her initial manner and I was happy to accept her apology. She said that in the beginning, she was reluctant to speak to anyone in case the legal process was disrupted and she also said that she had found herself in a complicated situation. I was moved by the beautiful letter she sent to me later and in particular the words “…it was a privilege to share, in a small way, in such a significant time in your family’s life.”

  We resumed our vigil in the green room and marvelled at Bernard sleeping, again, curled up behind the door. He had been working night shifts throughout the trial and hadn’t had enough sleep. He woke up and was just telling me that he wouldn’t bother with lunch but would keep dozing when, with a brief knock at the door, the Judge’s Associate entered and said, “the jury will now take a one-hour lunch break.”

  25

  The gallery was packed. People I had not seen before were crammed in behind us and against the walls. We watched as the accused was led in shuffling, head down and bent over and he took his seat. What was he thinking about? I was numb. I turned around and saw Luke sitting with his arm around Daniel and Donna was holding on to him as
well. We stood as the judge came in and there wasn’t a sound in that room even though it was filled to capacity. We sat down and held our breath.

  In what seemed to be a very quick progression, the judge addressed the jury and asked if they had reached a decision. The forewoman of the jury stood and said that yes they had. I heard the collective sigh that comes after breath has been held.

  The judge’s advocate immediately read out the first charge and asked her how the jury found the accused and she said,

  GUILTY.

  There was an audible gasp and the sound of sobs. I now know the sobs were mine.

  The second charge was read and she again said

  GUILTY.

  I glanced round at Daniel and saw that Luke had encircled him with both his arms and I know I really started to cry then.

  The third charge,

  GUILTY.

  The fourth,

  GUILTY.

  By then I was only listening for the rape charge.

  GUILTY.

  The whole nine charges.

  GUILTY.

  My head was nearly on my friend’s lap and Paula had been trying to tell me that the jury leader wasn’t reading from any pieces of paper and she and her sister had realised that he was going to be found guilty on all charges, but I was too upset to notice them.

  I turned and Daniel and I shared an indescribable look. Clapping broke out from behind us and Paula turned to the people, some strangers, and told them not to clap. She said that we were better than that and she was right.

  There were some brief legal representations from the Prosecution and the Defence. Fletcher was refused bail and taken into custody, led away by the contingent of uniformed Corrective Services officers to gaol where he would await his sentence, which would be handed down at Gosford District Court on March, the 11th, 2005.