An Impossible Dream

"Do these boys go to a Catholic school?"

"Most of them, yes. Those that don't all go to church, and were friends with the others. Now they don't seem to be friends any more."

"Have any of the parents sought help? Have any gone to the police with their concerns?"

"Yes, a couple of them went to the police, but were told that nothing could be done unless the boys were prepared to stand up in court and give evidence. None were."

"That's not surprising, given the position of the priest in our society. He is seen as the intermediary between the people and God, and that gives him a position of immense power over them. To go against that sort of institutional power is never going to happen. What we need to do is, while not forgetting these boys and their families, attack this from the top."

"And just how do you propose that we do that?"

"Give me time to think about this, but it could be the only way that we can get to the bottom of it. My understanding of the way that they operate, is that they treat each case as a one off incident, when in fact the practise seems to be very widespread. So much so, that there must be some top down directives on how to deal with these cases, to isolate them so that each is treated separately from the others. If the public ever got wind of the systemic nature of this, it would be a PR disaster for the church."

"You do realise that we will have to tread very softly with this, in case we frighten them off."

"I think that, initially at least, they will try to tough it out. If that doesn't have the desired results then they may offer some form of compensation in exchange for signing a non-disclosure agreement and a promise to take the matter no further. If that happens, we will not get anywhere."

"Okay, first things first, we go see our Editor and get permission for you to work on this with me, and then we pitch the idea of going at it from a different direction, as you suggest, the top down."

"Before we do that, why don't we see if there have been any other investigations, anywhere, that we can tap into. It's to the Internet my dear." She looked at me as I tossed those words at her, and smiled. She was caught up in this, just as I was. By this I mean not only the investigation, but the 'us' this. At least I hoped so.

"Before we do anything we should clear it with the boss. Now is a good time to introduce you to our fearless Editor, Byron Pickering. Come." She grabbed my hand and led me to the office at the back of the newsroom. The tag on the door indicated that he was not only 'in' but available. Sonia tapped on the door and, without waiting for him to tell us to enter, walked in, pulling me behind her. "Byron Pickering, meet the new star to our newsroom James, hang on I don't even know your last name."

"It's Lawrence, James Lawrence."

"Ah yes, I wondered when you would grace my office. I've heard a lot of very good things about you. I suppose the next thing is that the lovely Sonia here is going to suggest that the two of you work together on the job she's on at the moment.'

"A mind reader even. Yes I am going to suggest that very thing, not only because he's young and cute, but because he has some very good ideas."

"Not so young, I am pushing twenty-five I'll have you know. The rest I'll agree with, you know the cute thing, and the good ideas, although self promotion is not one of my many character traits."

"James, if you want to get ahead in this organisation, you are going to have to learn to blow your own bags, you can't always rely on other people to push your case. You have a lot going for you here, work with Sonia, let her knock the small paper mentality out of you and you will go a long way, because, if you don't you may as well pack your things and go back to wherever you came from. If I didn't think that you had it in you, you wouldn't be here. The job that you did on Coleman was a good piece of investigative journalism, the kind that we want here. You have the chance to make it big in this world, don't give that up. Now get to work, both of you."

"Wow. Talk about praise from Caesar. I have never heard him talk about anyone like he just did about you. You have his permission to join me on this ride, but let me warn you, it will probably be a bumpy one, are you up for it?"

"My seat belt is already fastened."

"Right. First things first, come with me and I'll fill you in on what I have found out so far. That will give you some context on this sorry mess, and hopefully even a starting point for the rest of the story." We spent the rest of the day trolling through the interviews that Sonia had done with the victims, and families of victims, of sexual abuse at the hands of paedophile priests. Families of victims because many of them had committed suicide, rather than face life with the guilt, because they were made to feel that somehow it was all their fault.

"Who was it that came up with this so called Melbourne Response?" I asked her.

"I'm not sure, all I know is that it is a cheap method of making this problem go away. At least that's what it was meant to do. But look at it, how draconian is it, to force those making the complaints to appear, unrepresented, before this sham of an inquiry, and give evidence in front of the accused. This is worse than the victims of rape having to give evidence at the trial of the rapist, at the least they have legal representation. In this case, if the church deemed it appropriate, they were paid off, given $10,000, forced to sign a non-disclosure contract, and told to go away."

"And the priest is allowed to walk free, only to re-offend."

"In some cases he was sent for 'treatment' before being allowed back to a pastoral role, but it appears that in most cases the treatment was a waste of time, a case of being seen to be doing something."

"Right, let's see if we can find out who it was that came up with this Melbourne Response, and if there were any official directives about it on record. If we can find this we will at least have some sort of proof of the institutional response to these allegations, and until the cases are tried and proven, they are, and will remain, allegations."

"We have the proof, from these interviews, that these incidents did occur, what we don't have is any evidence that the practise was endemic and that the hierarchy know of it and tried to cover it up."

"What we also need to establish is that the movement of priests from one position to another was as a result of allegations having been made of their paedophile activities, and who was responsible for making that decision."

"There is another possibility."

"And what might that be?" Sonia was puzzled. Was I alluding to something that could potentially exonerate those at the top.

"What if the practise was so endemic in the church that those leaders at the parish and diocese levels knew of it and were protecting their own arses as well as those further up the food chain?"

"If that were to be the case, then it would be common knowledge right to the top. This sort of thing would have to have been going on for so long that those at the top were aware of it from their own beginnings in the priesthood."

"But how would we ever be able to prove that? As soon as we got close enough to getting the evidence that we need, they'll close ranks and deny us access. We need to find someone outside the clergy that can gain us access to church records. I suppose that it would be too much to hope that they would have committed anything to a computer record."

"What about the church archives? They would only hold correspondence for so long before archiving it."

"Or destroying it. Which will probably be what they will do if we request access to their archives."

"Could we use the Freedom of Information act to apply for access? Surely that would apply to all public records and not just those of governments."

"They will most likely hide behind their confidentiality rules and claim that what goes on between the priest and his parishioners has the same level of confidentiality as exists in the confessional. We can hardly push that particular issue when we refuse to reveal those that give us confidential information.

"Look, I don't know about you, but I've had enough for one day." I said. "I suggest that we adjourn to a convenient watering hole and you can introduce me to the other inmates of this insane asylum." Sonia had her bag out from under her desk before I had finished my suggestion.

From the way that she was greeted she was obviously well known to the other Journos. I, on the other hand, came in for my fair share of dirty looks. Who was this interloper that was dominating her attention? "Guys, this is James Lawrence, newly arrived from Siberia, otherwise known as a regional paper. He is a star on the ascendant if Byron is to be believed. He and I have been thrown together on my pet project." A glass of amber was thrust into my hands. I had no alternative but to drink it. This was going to be a long evening for someone like me to whom moderation was important. Before long there were several untouched glasses waiting for my attention. "You obviously have had experience with the drinking prowess of this industry." Sonia whispered in my ear.

"I had my years at Uni to hone my skills at avoiding getting shit-faced. Don't get me wrong, I like a drink or two, but no more. My big break came from remaining sober and listening as those in the room had forgotten that old adage about loose lips sinking ships. In amongst the bullshit that was flying around was the information that I couldn't get out of a certain person while he was sober. It cost me a fortune to get him to that stage, he wasn't a cheap drunk by any means. When he realised what I had done he was livid. It could easily have cost him his job, if I hadn't lied to his boss to shift the blame away from him."

"Look, I don't know about you, but I'm feeling in the need of food. What say we adjourn to somewhere quiet and have some dinner, my treat."

"An offer that I can't refuse. The end of a perfect day for me."

"End? Did I just hear you say end?"

"What else did you have in mind?"

"We shall see what we shall see." There was that enigmatic smile that I was to become used to, or is that to which I was to become used? Who gives a shit about grammatical correctness at a time like this?

It mightn't have been the flashiest restaurant in town, but it was perfect for the occasion. It was quiet, off the beaten track and cheap. Did I mention the food? The food was spectacular, and plentiful, none of this trendy crap where the main course would struggle to fill a hollow tooth, oh no. We waded through the mounds of fine food, drank a bottle of medium priced but excellent Shiraz and, over coffee, reached the simultaneous decision to adjourn to her place, a flat overlooking the spectacular Sydney Harbour and the Opera House. It was tiny, or should I say compact, but comfortable for a single person. Her bed was what is classified as a 'king single' somewhere between a single and double bed. While we couldn't thrash around in it, it was comfortable enough that after making love we both managed a comfortable nights sleep.

"Are you still here?" Sonia's drowsy voice interrupted my early morning reverie. "I thought that I would have woken to find you'd snuck off like a thief in the night."

"What, and disturb your sleep? You do realise that you snore something fierce, don't you?"

"Bullshit. You should talk, you kept me awake for hours rattling the windows. If I hadn't felt sorry for you I'd have kicked you out."

"I'll withdraw my complaint if you withdraw yours, okay?"

"I suppose I can do that. You don't really snore anyway. We'd better make a move if we're going to get to work on time. You do know that you're going to have to front for work in the same clothes, and jocks, that you had on yesterday, not to mention the designer stubble that sandpapered my face and somewhere else last night. If this is going to be an ongoing arrangement, you're going to have to leave spare clothes here along with your shaving gear and toothbrush. I'll let you use mine this morning,"

"I have a good idea, we can ring in and tell Byron that we are following up a lead, which we will be, and we can go out to my place and I can pack the necessaries for brief stays with you and you can meet Mum. She, by the way, is going to help us. She doesn't know it yet, but she will."

We walked to the train station and caught a train to my suburb and a cab to home. "Hi Mum, sorry I didn't call last night, but, I'd like you to meet Sonia Challis, she and I are working together on a big story. Sonia, this is my Mum Maureen."

Mum looked at Sonia, a knowing smile creased her face as Sonia hugged her. "Forget the Maureen, you can call me Mum. I understand fully why you didn't call, you were otherwise occupied. Don't try and deny it, you've got that look in your eyes that tells me that you are happy about something. He doesn't have that look often," She said to Sonia. "The last time was when he was offered his first job on the local paper. Coffee?"

"Yes, thanks." We said in unison. This brought another smile to her face.

"By the way Mum, Mrs Thornleigh, she still works up at the church doesn't she?"

"Yes, why?"

"We are working on a story about the sexual abuse of kids by the clergy, and we need to get a look at the Parish archives, if that's possible."

"Are you suggesting that Father O'Brien is one of those dirty priests?"

"No. I'm sure that he's not. He certainly wasn't while I was an altar boy and definitely not with me. What we looking for are directives from the Diocese and Arch-Diocese, telling the priests how to handle any allegations of that nature."

"I don't know whether she's able to access those papers, or even if she wants to. It is her job that will be on the line if she's caught, you do understand that, don't you?"

"I know Mum, I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't think of a way that we could get the information without her being caught. The information is of a general nature, not specific to this Parish."

"I'll call her, she's not at work this morning, she's only part-time, they can't afford to employ her full-time at present." She went off to make her call while Sonia and I worked our way through the pile of biscuits that always seem to magically hit the table any time Mum had guests.

"I like your Mum." Sonia said around a bite of biscuit.

"And she likes you, I can see it in her smile. She thinks that I've met the woman of my dreams."

"A possibility I'd have to say." She leaned over and kissed me.

"She's coming over here." Mum's voice began before she had entered the kitchen. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to barge in on you like that." She said as she saw the kiss. "I think that she might have something to tell you."

We chatted amongst ourselves for the ten minutes or so that it took for Mrs Thornleigh to arrive. To say that she had something to tell us was understating the situation big time.

"Hi Jimmy, how is the town's most famous stirrer? You really threw a cat amongst the pigeons with that story didn't you?"

"They all richly deserved it." I said in my defence.

"I agree with you that they deserved it. Who have you turned your sights on this time, and who is this lovely thing?"

"Mrs Thornleigh. . . ."

"Beryl."

"Beryl, this is Sonia, she and I are working on a story about the sexual abuse of young boys by priests."

"That seems to have been done to death by the media, and there's a Royal Commission looking into it already. I don't know that I can give you any more than you already know."

"We are coming at it from a different direction. The church appears to be trying to put forward that these are individual incidences and not endemic in the church. We don't believe that, we believe that officials at the Diocese and Arch-Diocese level know of what has happened over many, many years, and have done nothing to stop it, in fact they have gone out of their way to protect the priests involved. We are looking to find out if there have been any official directives from up top, instructing priests at the Parish level as to how that they can counter any allegations of sexual abuse. What we are also looking at is a part of the hidden cost of these incidents, those young lads who suffered so much that they took their own lives rather than face the stigma of being a forgotten abuse victim." I knew that this would get to her, her nephew Robbie was one of those, he committed suicide some ten years ago. He was a couple of years older than me, and the priest was moved on after he had died.

"Could you come to my place?" She asked us. "I have something to show you. I haven't shown this to anyone. I need you to understand that I hold nothing against Father O'Brien, he did all that he could officially do under the circumstances. He sought guidance from the Bishop and was told to relocate Father Flannery. You have to understand that he has rules that he has to obey, the same as everyone. He did break one rule, he allowed us to bury Robbie in the cemetery, the church wanted him to be buried outside because he had committed suicide, and that's a sin in the eyes of the church, and he wasn't given the last rites before he died, as the church decrees."

"I understand fully, I like him, he's one of the good guys."

We found ourselves seated in Beryl's kitchen staring at the pile of documents that she had placed in front of us. "I copied these without even Father O'Brien's knowledge. I have thought of going to the Royal Commission when it gets here. I'll tell him before hand so that he knows what to expect. He has been told how to answer questions if he's asked to attend. He's to say that he had done everything in his power when the situation was brought to his attention in the confessional."

"Something should be done about priests hiding behind the sanctity of the confessional, even murderers can confess to killing someone to his priest and know that the priest can't go to the cops about it. There should be a law that forces priests to tell the police when a criminal has confessed to them." Sonia wasn't a Catholic, so she couldn't get her head around the concept of the confessional. "But then I suppose that the criminal will simply not confess to his priest."

"If he doesn't he does not receive absolution and won't go to heaven when he dies." I told her.

"You don't think that simply telling a priest will get you through the gates of heaven, do you?"

"That's what we're told."

"So, a priest can confess to his confessor that he has had sex with a young boy, in the knowledge that his crime will not be revealed, is that fair?"

"No-one said that any of this is fair, but these are the rules that priests live by."

"Then we really have to do something about this." Sonia looked closely into my eyes. "I hope that you're not going to get all Catholic on me and refuse to do anything about this?"

"I'm a Catholic by default, not choice. I have seen enough of the wrong-doings of this church to want to see those guilty of these crimes brought to justice. If the church looks on my actions as somehow reprehensible and excommunicates me, so be it. I will not lose any sleep over it. Better men than me have been wrongfully excommunicated by the church." I turned to Beryl. "Can we take these with us and have them copied. We'll take anything out that can identify the source, and get them back to you?"

"Yes. I want to see justice done in such a way that this practise can be stamped out for good."

Byron headed us off at the pass as we walked into the newsroom. "Tell me that you've actually been working on your story and not been engaged in carnal pleasures."

"Okay, if that's what you want to hear, then yes, we have been working on our story." He was somewhat taken aback by the fact that I wasn't afraid of him. "And it is the truth. We have made something of a breakthrough in that we have evidence of a cover-up by the church hierarchy. We have a written directive on how to act on allegations of sexual impropriety by the clergy. It comes from the top."