Category Archives: Catholic Abuse Stories

Vincent’s Story – Surviving Priest Rape

If you, or someone you love and care about has been, as a child, sexually abused, raped, sodomized or molested, there’s one thing you’d have learned or know intimately and that is; you lose your ability to chose. Your world gets smaller and the ability to choose shrinks and narrows to the point where all you can decide on is which option best allows you to survive. No matter your intelligence or education these traumas beset upon you before you can even identify what the hell it is that was done to you – yet still knowing it was all wrong – these feelings and chaos and hell that pedophile rape, molestation and sodomy force you to experience are way beyond most peoples’ ability to process – yet alone having it done to you at 3 years old! What this does – oh and most of these sick fucks also give the child booze and drugs (as in my case) – what happens is akin to… the best image I’ve come up with… you ever see a tree that’s grown around a fence or power line? It looks painful but also like the tree has done the only thing it knows to do and that is to keep going. To keep on growing, grow past the trauma and incorporate it into its foundation, into the core of it’s being. The main problem here though is that trauma weakens the tree and in a storm, it will certainly snap at that weak point. A tree, although it’s alive, it’s not sentient and doesn’t think and can’t fear and plan or anticipate (lucky tree) because those feelings are at the very root of the problem of losing the ability to chose. You begin to operate – at the time the events occurs – in survivor mode. These pedophile rapist fucks destroy a young boys mind with the trauma of rape, sodomy and molestation because – as bizarre as this may sound – when it stops, when they stop being your friend and raping you and paying all this attention to you and giving you drugs and alcohol and toys, when it stops, you’re hurt and scared and worried and at 3 or 5 or 7 years old, you try to figure out what you did wrong? Why don’t they like you anymore? Are they going to kill your parents now? What’s wrong with you? Are they going to get you in trouble? Many times they threaten to kill your parents (that’s what Uncle Al told me he’d do if I told) or your pets or break your toys because they say you’ve done something that made them angry or as a way to show you what they’d do if you told but – with any of it and all of it – you don’t know why or understand what’s really happening but one thing is certain, the child’s outlook on life becomes skewed, twisted and very rudimental. Stay alive. Keep your parents alive. Make the abusing rapist happy and when they stop and/or go away, try and make them come back because you’re 3 or 5 or 7 and don’t understand any of it. If an adult tells you you’ve been bad, you believe them. That’s what you’re told to do. What else can a child and almost toddler do? In my case repeat this abuse scenario 20 to 30 more times from ages 3 to 11 (family friend / Biz partner “Uncle Al”, babysitting hippy couple, Priest, Janitor, and a few I don’t want to mention). With this childhood as my foundation – the core of my reasoning and thought process – how my brain is hardwired, when I reached the age of a teenager and later I’d find myself making choices and decisions that left me baffled and up to my chin in shit. Ten years of therapy in my 30’s has – at best – gotten it down to realizing I’m hurting myself (or my loved one) when just up to my knees in shit – knowing that I need to stop and get out of it – whatever it is – at that point, is real growth and progress. I’ve learned that you don’t get cured, it can get better (and then go right back to being worse – up to your chin – without warning or being able to figure out why) but all in all it takes a lot of work and a near constant vigilance. Until I read some books, attended a ‘survivor of rape and incest’ group and shared and learned that many others share the same childhood trauma and think and process things as an adult the same way I do, that I wasn’t alone – I thought there was something really really wrong with me (not that there’s not but I know I’m not as messed up as I thought – but am pretty broken.

I write all of this for a few reasons; One is I was recently accused of making my life turn out the way it did because I chose it to be this way and two, in hopes that someone else who is as hurt and confused as I was because of the trauma realizes that it’s not all their fault, they’re not alone, that there’s hope and someone cares.

The worst thing I can say to someone with children is that “I wish my childhood on them” and the worst thing I can say to my asshole family is “not only do I wish my childhood on your kids but that you treat them exactly the same way you treated me.” They treated me like shit for most of my life – when most families would lament the burden a troubled loved one brings to them ending most conversations with “but they’re family, what can you do?” there was no such talk in mine. I was thrown out of the house at 14. When an option for a state run reform school or private school was presented my father said something like “he’s your problem – educate him till he’s 18” when he could have easily afforded to send his gifted child (superior to genius on the tests) to a boarding school. Later, I was tried, convicted and kicked out – literally – the moment I turned 18 (with nowhere to go and no degree or no real ability to care for myself).

The ability to recall and talk about the still very foggy memories of the abuse and telling them what I remembered when these repressed memories surfaced at 26 years old DID ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO CHANGE THE HORRIBLE WAY THEY TREATED ME. Things were exactly the same as before – actually worse – because now we all knew what had happened to me yet for the next 24 years these right wing republican humps blamed me, the victim and although their types are the first to call psychology and therapy b.s. – suddenly they’ll put 100% faith in the idea that one can be cured and would be if “they only pulled themselves up by their bootstraps, do a little work, stop their whining and put a little skin in the game.”

OMG!!! I wanna puke.

I’ve had little choice in my life and have suffered because of many of the choices I’ve made only knowing I needed to make the ones that allowed me to feel better than the all encompassing 24 hour soul crushing despair that occupied my every waking moment. Not wanting to die is a huge relief and anything, be it a beer or a joint (or prayer and meditation – which is what I know now) bestowed that sweet relief from a near constant suicidal tendency, well hell, anyone – especially a 13 year old who knows nothing from nothing but the very basics of survival – would do (and I did) anything to make the hell stop. The rapist pedophile Priest saw to it that I had no faith or trust in God or the Church and my right-wing, beating the life out of me with a strap or yard stick until the child abuse board was in our living room parents – who didn’t do the most basic of basic parenting responsibilities, which is to keep me safe – made sure I had no ability to trust in anyone else (btw: my father got out of it because he was a law enforcement officer and called it a corporal punishment spanking – even though I was 13 and had black and blues all over my legs and body to the point that my gym teacher called the police). I had it coming at me from all angles. Sorry but if a little beer or weed did for you what nothing or anyone else was supposed to – make you feel safe and not wanting to die and gave you a little hope to continue on for a little while longer you’d be making the exact same choices I did. Actually, maybe not. Statistically, out of 10 abused men (9 + me), most of them would have become child rapists and be in prison for it. Statistically most abusers were abused themselves. Women, on the other hand, go into sex work to become empowered over the memories. Perpetrating is something I didn’t do. There was an incident when I was 12 and baby sitting for a 10 year old neighbor girl but that was it. Although mostly at a loss, I credit this to my heightened sense of empathy and morality. I did my fair share of stupid crap but when I became old enough to become a predator I knew the difference between right and wrong, knew the 10 commandments and knew how being hurt by others felt and had no desire to make another feel that way.

Being told that I chose this life was the most hurtful, ignorant thing I’ve ever heard from a family member. It not only showed me how little they care but that they’ve also never done any research into what I went through as well as never learning anything about what happened to me or someone who is sexually abused as a child. I should have expected it. Whenever they say and do incredibly insensitive shit I’m still hurt and surprised. I should know better, especially about this, being that I’ve never been asked about or shown sympathy over what happened to me as a child, by any of them. Not once, ever.

Tiffany Moon’s Story of Abuse, Kidnapping and Rape

image027My kidnapping was part of years of violent abuse, deception about my identity, a custody dispute, 10-day captivity, and escape across state lines.  When unable to stop it, the Catholic Diocese of San Diego and the School of the Madeleine chose to hide it.

My birth certificate was falsely marked with the name of the older husband of my 18-year-old mother.  My natural father had refused custody, and finally to pay child support when unable to control her.  I didn’t know his identity until I was an adult, but I did learn the word, “bastard” in conjunction with violence when I was a child.  Throughout my childhood, until I was nine, I was severely abused.  I lived in violent, drug-using homes in California and Oregon, where I was sexually abused by the man I was told was my father, given drugs and alcohol, threatened with guns, photographed, trafficked to men who came to our home, tied with rope, experienced my animals being tortured (hung, strangled, cooked alive), and watched my mother raped and beaten.  Sexual deviance was a hallmark of abuse in our home, with forced urination in my mother’s mouth being among the things I witnessed.  I was first raped by a young neighbor when I was seven, after he had stolen my cat.  But it was this boy’s knowledge of the use of captivity and animal abuse, and early knowledge of intimate secretions, that suggested his own abuse by the man who dominated my home:

Captivity was a common practice by my stepfather, who often separated, restrained, and confined me and my mother, while privacy in the bathroom was not permitted.  The most significant events of violence and captivity leading to my kidnapping occurred in August of 1980, when I was nine, in our Oregon home:  When divorce was imminent, and during a violent argument about custody of me, my mother escaped with me into my parents’ bedroom and locked the door.  My stepfather kicked the door in, punching the doorknob into the wall behind it, missing my face by inches, and then held and beat my mother in the bathroom.  My mother escaped our home after this, leaving me and my 2-year-old half-brother behind.  During the 10 days of her absence, I was held in the house, starved, kept awake, and forcefully raped in my room by a boarder who lived in our home and took LSD with my stepfather at night. On the night my mother returned, when my stepfather became violent and she attempted to walk out through the attached garage, he attempted to kill her.  With a drop latch at the kitchen doorway, he dropped the garage door on her head, and when she had fallen on her back, sat on her abdomen and applied pressure to her chest and neck with his hands to suffocate her.  I was watching from the kitchen, sick and starved, with my rapist standing next to me.  A neighbor called police on that night, but police came and went, regarding my mother as the problem, and leaving us to be abused again.

My mother did finally escape with me and my half-brother that August, returning to California and divorcing my stepfather, and then abandoning me with my grandmother in San Diego.  I was still starved, unable to eat, and had pneumonia when I arrived.  In my grandmother’s home, where I was left to care for my grandfather, a cigarette addict dying of lung cancer, I lived another nine years of severe emotional, physical and mental abuse and neglect, often by my visiting aunt, alcoholic mother, and her many boyfriends.  My grandmother was an employee of the Catholic Diocese of San Diego, and that September, she placed me in the School of the Madeleine, where I was bullied by students and abused by teachers.  School officials had been informed that my mother had custody of me, that my grandmother was my guardian, and that my stepfather was a violent man who did not have permission to see me. During my first month of school, on picture day, I was physically abused and threatened by my 4th-grade teacher, who took me alone into a hallway, pinned me into a corner with her arm to my chest, and told me what she would do if I ever lied to her. Shortly after this, in October, my stepfather, who had driven from Oregon to San Diego, entered the school campus through open gates, without notice.  He first went to the school office and asked permission to take me out of school.  When denied permission, he ran throughout the school, from room to room, yelling my name, with the school principal, a small nun, running behind him.  He forcibly removed me from a classroom, pushing the principal, who had stood in the doorway to block it, out of the way, knocking her into a bench and onto the ground, and dragged me, screaming my fear of falling, down the steep hill away from the school.  He first drove me to an unpopulated restaurant for a drink, then to a secluded canyon, where he raped me, and from a nearby parking lot, returned me to school in a taxi.  Approximately two hours passed from the time I was taken until I was returned.  When I arrived back at the school, there were no police; no one had called them.  The campus was quiet.  I walked back through open school gates, guessed where I should be, and returned to the classroom of the teacher who had threatened me about lying. She had been talking to the class; her words to them when I entered the room were, “It happens every day.”  She called my name as I entered, hugged me, while I stood still and unresponsive, and then took me to the school office.  I was sent home with my grandmother, who had been called away from her job at the Diocese.

Nothing was done, however.  No police report was taken.  No paramedics were called.  No counselors, nor Child Protective Services, were contacted.  I displayed obvious symptoms of abuse on the day of my kidnapping and for my remaining years at the school.  I had regular infections for which I carried cranberry juice to school, information I shared with students and teachers. I described pain to my gym teacher to be excused from class, something for which I was bullied by students.  I described feelings of depression to my choir teacher, who then frequently offered to drive me and other girls home alone after private lessons.  I also disclosed information to the Parish Monsignor in confession two years later, when I was mutilating myself, genitally and compulsively (a result of sexual trauma), who then gave me penance for my sin, but no action was taken.  For my remaining four years at the school, when I was hiding in closets during class, jumping every time a chair moved, sitting alone, dissociated and comatose, during lunches, and finally leaving visible suicide notes, seen by students, in classrooms, no action was taken.  In fact, the school gates remained open every day, despite the kidnapping, and the teacher who had threatened me about lying said to another teacher in reference to my behavior, “I think she just wants attention.”  The same teacher, during a sixth-grade sex-education discussion, told our class, “if a child is sexually abused, she will become schizophrenic.”  The crime was ignored, I was ignored, and I was shamed into silence.  An experienced felon walked free, and my wellbeing continued to decline.  I was still a child, still abused, and still incapable of reporting the crime myself.  I was afraid of my family; I was bullied, ignored, and abused at my school.  Had police been notified by the school or the Diocese when I was kidnapped, I might have been found before I was assaulted.  Had police and paramedics been present when I returned, I would have disclosed what had happened to me, there would have been evidence, and my stepfather could have been convicted.  Had CPS been contacted at any time, I would have explained the kidnapping and abuse, and perhaps been removed from my family and the school.  I might have received help, treatment.  My life today might have been much different if the school and the Diocese had not deliberately chosen not to act.

The years of these events were threateningly normalized by the abusive adults around me while I was living them, and I adapted into the shell of a person I had to be in order to survive.  I have only recently begun to understand exactly how these events created the traumatized, debilitated adult I am, the adult who continued to attract and tolerate abusers, and who has required a severely and increasingly restricted work, home and social life.  But today, despite the fact that my stepfather has confessed to the kidnapping on an audio recording, very little legal action is possible without the support of law enforcement. And while I live with severe disabilities, including chronic C-PTSD and a major depressive disorder, psychological injuries caused by the trauma, something that prevents me from functioning normally, in a way that meets my intellectual potential and potential for sufficient income and community giving, the school and the Diocese have refused to accept responsibility for the tremendous, lifelong damage they caused, also making treatment impossible without compensation.  Today, there is little recourse for these events, and no help available for me.

ABDUCTION madeleine descanso officer finney allowing blocking of my protest statement and me 25 april 2013 turned

Officer Finney allowing blocking of my protest statement and me on 25 April 2013.

SB 131 madeleine descanso front

Protest Statement

In San Diego, CA, my own recent attempts at seeking legal justice and help for the trauma-related symptoms I finally understood, resulted in a death threat, stalking, the questionable suicide of my mother, abuse by police and sheriffs, abuse and denial of service by my local FBI, neglect and abuse by my local DA, callousness and abuse by attorneys, a medical misdiagnosis, permanently damaging medical maltreatment, illegal denial of county health-care services, illegal denial of aid by Social Security, the CalFresh program, and all other social services, denial of service by support organizations, denial of disability by my private insurance carrier, the loss of my small business, the loss of my suburban home, and the depletion of my resources, finally resulting in seven months of homelessness, damaging separation from my physical and psychiatric service animals (one of whom died), and over a year of chronic stress. Ultimately, my attempts at seeking support for the results of the crime that had been ignored in the past were not only ignored in the present, but resulted in ultimate loss, worsening my disability and financial state with abusive and criminal responses. Today, I won’t survive without help.

Today, I’m trying to rebuild, and I’m pursuing legal justice, compensation, and treatment.  After learning that the way I have been treated is very common, and being forced to compile resources alone, I’m also applying my knowledge and skills to support groups filled with amazing abduction and kidnapping survivors, from whom I learn more every day.  And I am sharing my story, because what my teacher said that day is true:  Abduction does happen every day.  The problem is that abduction incidents sound so outlandish to those who are unaware of or simply afraid to hear them, that survivors are left feeling alone, betrayed, and frustrated, with a profound and unique trauma.  Many of us do not survive, not because we did not live through the crime, but because we were denied help after it.  Far from receiving the support and treatment we so desperately need, most abduction and kidnapping survivors are just as profoundly mistreated after the crime.  Today, I’m seeking help, and I hope that, by sharing my story and providing services for other survivors of abduction and kidnapping, while seeking help for myself, I can also promote public awareness about a painful but common crime, and provide the support that I didn’t receive, the support that would have made all the difference.

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ACTION ALERT!  ABDUCTION SB 131 Poster Governor Choose Sign 2

On 12 October, 2013, CA Governor Jerry Brown vetoed SB 131, the Child Victims Act, the bill that would have allowed me to sue the Catholic Diocese of San Diego for my kidnapping and assault, and to receive justice, compensation, and treatment for the crimes committed against me by the School of the Madeleine. With his veto, Brown chose to protect the school, the Diocese, and my rapist, rather than to protect me, their victim.  He chose to protect powerful institutions that harbor rapists, rather than to protect today’s children and compensate yesterday’s victims.  Please read my statement, and demand Governor Brown’s resignation:

www.facebook.com/notes/tiffany-moon-foundation-for-abduction-recovery/ca-governor-brown-vetos-sb-131-the-child-victims-act/535316056545103

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From the Author: Tiffany currently operates The Tiffany Moon Foundation for Abduction Recovery. This foundation helps in fighting for justice for her kidnapping and abuse at a religious school (and religious abuse in the family) and, offers support to all kidnapping survivors. For more information on her foundation, or to help support the foundation through donations, please visit her website at http://tiffanymoonfoundation.org/index.htm.

Adele Hebert’s Story

adeleFrom the Author: It is not very often that I come across a woman that the Lord has led down the same educational path as me. What a blessing it was to be able to correspond with Adele and learn that she has studied many of the same scholars’ works that I have. It was as if we had a kindred spirit right out of the gate. When I learned that Adele’s four children were kidnapped by her ex-husband, my heart sank on her behalf. No one can imagine the depth and magnitude of the trauma this causes to a mother. . . except one particular woman of the Bible. Her name was Michal and she was Saul’s daughter. When King David took her from her husband Palti, she already had five children she was raising with her husband. King David took her from her husband, who loved her deeply, and her children. That is why she despised David and never had any children with him. (Read the account of this story here: Another Twist of Scripture to Subjugate Women to Abusive Husbands) And yet, this story has been used to subjugate women to abusive husbands.

I am so glad that Adele had an independent spirit and the ability to think for herself; something the church despises in a woman.  I would also like to add that Yochebed, Moses’ Mother, is Adele’s heroine. She is the woman that Adele associates with to the greatest extent. Although Michal endured such great tradegy, Yochebed sacrificed her son, even though she knew he would be raised by her enemy, an Egyptian, with no regard for God. I genuinely believe that Adele and her book will be a blessing to many women who are struggling with the twisted doctrines of a church system that fosters abuse toward women and children.  To see Adele’s book, click here: Every Woman and Child

— Cynthia McClaskey

 

adele hebert story

Jesus Loves Women and Children

When I was growing up (Catholic), we were taught to sit and be silent, and no chewing gum. I don’t remember a thing the priests ever said. As a teenager I decided I didn’t want to go anymore. There was never any communication about God, no bibles in the house, no talk about why anyone went to church. It just happened.

When I got married I thought it was a good idea to go to church occasionally. I can’t honestly say I learned anything from the sermons in those years either. It was all empty talk. They only have a few minutes to give a sermon yet they seemed quite happy to pass the time expressing how the Smiths came back from Hawaii, or that the Jones got their new boat, or that their favorite hockey team won last night. When I had my second child I was so happy and wanted an announcement to be put in the bulletin, but they told me, “only if it gets baptized,” yet trivial stuff was in there like building fund, puzzles, birthdays, jokes.

It seemed like every Mother’s Day was marked for a sermon about submission. One year the ex beast came and as soon as we got back into the car, he said, “ya, the priest said a woman is supposed to submit to her husband.” Thankfully, I had a swift comeback, “that’s right, and the husband is supposed to die for the wife.” I was disgusted with that priest, for setting women up for abuse. Religion definitely influenced my marriage.

I was in an extremely abusive marriage, and wanted to leave, but I had heard so many times that God hated divorce, that I felt doomed. Even after being born again, I left the Catholic church, but I found no satisfaction or help in any other church. My best education came from Oprah; every week she seemed to have another abused woman on tv. That’s where I learned the word ‘abuse.’ No one in my family wanted to hear my troubles and I had very few friends who had the patience to listen to my dilemma. Finally, God spoke to me and said, “You don’t have to die for him, I already have.”

My marriage was ugly but my divorce was hell. The ex beast finally kidnapped all four of my children, 900 kms away. After that I was completely ostracized. No one wanted to associate with a wailing, grieving mother who lost her kids. I was so devastated that it is amazing I am here today.

After losing my children I was in a constant state of sadness and depression. I had no purpose in life. Going to church got to be more frustrating as time went on. I had even stopped reading the bible.

…Then I happened to find an old book in the back of a church that was about to be thrown away. It was “God’s Word to Women” written by Katharine Bushnell in 1923. That book changed my life. I devoured her book and knew she was right about the mistranslations and the misinterpretations of the women stories in the bibles. She found many errors in ancient manuscripts, almost always against the women. For years I compared bibles and found that Katharine was right. I was disgusted with all the patriarchal churches.

When I think back about all the priests / pastors in my life… one tried to feel me up when I went to confession, one new priest wouldn’t let me get my Christmas lights from the storage room (and I used to be in charge of so many things there), and, after months, he finally appointed a man to unlock the door, and they had been stolen. Another priest, when I asked him a question, gave me some fancy warning about not taking the bible literally and that people have to study it for years to be able to understand it.

So I went to a seminary to take a course and when the story came up about men not wanting the children to get close to Jesus, the priest professor said it was because children have snotty noses, and they are always crying and sneezing and dirty… and I was pregnant and was mortified. I was deeply wounded; my Jesus wouldn’t think that way. One Baptist church was disturbed about an unwed pregnant woman, and wanted her to come to a meeting alone, without her fiancé, to be questioned and chastised by all the male elders; her parents said they would leave the church if they pushed it, so they dropped the meeting.

The priest who married me and the ex beast left the room so we could listen to some premarital tapes; the ex beast fell asleep, and when the priest came back wanting to discuss the tape, the ex beast and him had a grand old conversation about all their travels and I was left in the dust. I later found out he tried to hit on my cousin, and had many convinced that he needed a housekeeper and a house! . . .and the people supported him!

More than one bible study turned bad because I asked too many questions or gave too many answers. One bible study leader wouldn’t even tell me where the next bible study was, or what it was all about, and he had been leading it for 3 weeks already. Another used the Timothy silent verse to shut me up, and when he read the words from his bible, I asked him if those were God’s words or man’s? He had to admit they came from the margin. Needless to say, I was not invited next time.

I found pastor’s wives to be jealous if I tried to talk to their husbands. I found arrogant men trying to make fun of what I said, even when it was very profound. I found little support from the people who went to church; they were uneducated and afraid. One friend was raped by the pastor when she was a girl; her mother sold her to the members of the church; but no one wants to talk about it, still to this day.

Most priests / pastors do not do any homework for their sermons. Some yell their heads off and say they are anointed (that’s when I leave). What I have learned has been from God, good books, blogs and friends.

My passion is studying the women in the bible, because we don’t seem to hear much about them in sermons. I thought that someone should write a book with all the verses pertaining to women and children. Then it dawned on me that God wanted me to write it. I do love the women stories. There are so many things that Jesus did for women, but the most important one is that Jesus gave women a voice.

Keith Rennar Brennan’s Story of Priest Rape

As human beings, we must work together to stop sexual abuse of women and children in the religious setting. Keith’s story is one that you will not want to pass by. Watch his video and join the many victims of clergy sexual abuse across all denominations that are coming forward and breaking their silence. TOGETHER we can help to stop the abuses hidden by religious institutions and those that run them.  Here’s Keith’s Story:

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/184881577/of-god-and-gucci

This documentary is the inspiring true story of Keith Rennar Brennan. His story begins in 1976 in the Greenville section of Jersey City, NJ.
 
Keith, thirteen years old, is being raised by his devout Irish Catholic parents. Saint Paul’s Roman Catholic Church is an integral part of their family life. Mom sings in the church choir, Dad is the church usher, and his older brother is an alter boy. A creative child, artistic and musically gifted, Keith’s family is pleased when he becomes involved with the church by joining the folk group, playing his guitar and singing at Sunday Mass. Always a nervous child, everyone hopes that Keith’s involvement with the church will help him find his way. Instead, Keith would be taken down an un-Godly path encountering not one, but two men of the cloth who would repeatedly and violently abuse Keith over the next four years.

“I drew St. Paul’s Church for the cover of our Parish Bulletin when I was thirteen. Three years later I would daydream about hanging myself in it’s steeple.”

Keith’s first abuser, the church’s musical director Keith Pecklers, grooms the boy over the course of a few months. He is cunning, strategic and sadistic. Pecklers (great name for a Pedophile!) abuses the boy repeatedly over the course of six months.

Shortly after the abuse began, a new Priest, Father Tom, ( a Wolf in Sheep’s clothing) comes to St. Paul’s Parish. Fr. Tom befriends Keith, and within a few months, Keith trusts him enough to tell him that the musical director has been sexually abusing him. Fr. Tom promises to make it stop.  He does, but only for he himself to begin sexually and psychologically abusing the boy for the next four years.

Never wavering in his Faith, Keith, now fourteen,  prays for a way out. He is sent a real life angel, Diane; a twenty-five year old married mother of two children. They both serendipitously attend an acting class one night, and out of the corner of his eye, Keith sees the brass doors opening and in walks Diane.

She looked like an Angel. She had these beautiful brown curls and these magnificent blue eyes. I knew that she would save me.”

Meeting Diane at the beginning of his abuse was clearly Divine Intervention. A few years go by and Keith finally opens up to Diane and tells her about the abuse. She is able to help him break away from the church and his abusers. Soon after she gets divorced, they fall in love, and they get married.

Keith survives the abuse. Eighteen years old, and left with only his creativity and the love and support of Diane, he starts designing women’s clothes. He becomes successful in the fashion industry, eventually having showrooms throughout the country, with his designs being featured in magazines, television, and films, such as Cosmopolitan, US, The Sopranos, and Mortal Thoughts with Demi Moore.

In spite of his success as a Fashion Designer, and the ability to pursue his dreams, Keith still feels like something is missing in his life. Justice.

In 2008, thirty-two years after his abuse, Keith confronted the Catholic Church and the two predators responsible. Of God & Gucci tells his incredible journey of healing, redemption, and the pursuit of justice.   Keith has since become an advocate to change the Statute of Limitations for Childhood Sexual Abuse, “Soul Murder”, and has become the voice for so many who have yet to discover their own. In his home State of New Jersey, if you have been sexually abused as a child, you have two years from the point of “reasonable discovery” to initiate a civil lawsuit against your predators. Keith hopes that Of God & Gucci will encourage and inspire audiences to begin a conversation about healing, change, and accountability.

1 out of 3 girls… and 1 out of every 6 boys has been sexually abused.

This true story tells how Keith and Diane were able to surpass insurmountable odds and create a life of Faith, Love, Fashion and Divine Purpose. They have been happily married for twenty-four years.

HOW YOU CAN HELP

You can now get involved in the making of this inspiring documentary. A Blueprint of how to be the Change that you want to see in the world.  Follow Keith Rennar Brennan from the origin of his abuse in Jersey City, to the Gold paved streets of The Vatican. From being victimized as a boy to becoming a survivor …finding his voice, and becoming a “Thriver”. Of God & Gucci transcends the subject of sexual abuse and becomes a universal life lesson about living life fearlessly, going after your Dreams, and becoming a Hero in your own life.

We can only finish this documentary with your help. You are as much a part of its creation as we are. The more people who participate, the more ability we will have to tell Keith’s story to as many people as possible. Healing is Contagious!

So, help by making a Pledge today, and by spreading the word to others. Share this link, “Like” us on Facebook. Twitter about Of God & Gucci ,and email this Kickstarter link to your friends, family, co-workers and supporters. You will be able  to stay in touch with us every step of the way, and we will keep you updated with the progress of the film. We promise to keep you in the loop.

WHAT HAPPENS IF WE DON’T REACH OUR GOAL 

Kickstarter is the largest funding platform for creative projects in the world. The way Kickstarter works is that we MUST make our funding GOAL before the campaign expires or we don’t get anything. It is ALL or nothing. You do not pay anything until we reach our goal. The funding of this campaign is essential to enable us to finance the filming of multiple upcoming events as well as interview influential Politicians, Theologians, and Changemakers, throughout the World.

Our goal is the minimum needed to proceed, but overachieving our goal will help us go further into filming docu- drama scenes and increase the production value of our film.  We want to depict the effects of child sexual abuse as honestly as possible.

We can only finish this film with your help.

My heartfelt thanks for your interest!  Please spread the word to all of your friends about Of God & Gucci.

” Faith makes all things possible.   Not easy”.

Risks and challenges Learn about accountability on Kickstarter

We are at the beginning stages of making a large scale documentary. Sometimes factors beyond our control come into play that may cause unforeseen delays. While it is our sincere desire and goal to have this film finished and ready to send to you by March 2014, at this point we cannot GUARANTEE this date. If it is delayed, since you will be so intimately connected to the production, you’ll be the first to know, and you will receive constant updates on the schedule and progress we are making.

We will do everything we can to make this entire experience as easy, seamless, and positive as possible for you.

To contact Keith, click here: http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/184881577/of-god-and-gucci

Letter to Pope Francis on Clergy Sexual Abuse

Source: http://www.catholicwhistleblowers.org/Letter_to_Pope_Francis.htm

Letter to Pope Francis

[See also a PDF of the Letter to Pope Francis.]

Catholic Whistleblowers
P.O. Box 279
Livingston, New Jersey 07039

His Holiness Pope Francis
Bishop of Rome
Vatican City State, Europe

April 29, 2013
Feast of St. Catherine of Siena

Your Holiness,
From the convictions of our conscience we wish to make known for the good of the Church, you and the Christian faithful the experience we have lived regarding the ongoing clergy sexual abuse crisis and scandal.

Pope Francis, like the beggar whom the Lord passed by on the street (Lk18:35) but who nonetheless called out for healing, we call out to you.  The beggar was shunned by the apostles who attempted to silence him, to hide his hideous disfigurement from the Lord as if he might disfigure the one who created him.  The beggar refused to be cast into silence for he knew his healing could only come from the dispenser of the divine mercy.  Like this poor disfigured beggar we call out to you from the side of the road, we who have been cast off, the apostles telling us to be silent.  Please, Pope Francis, do not pass us by.

From the start, the apostles had the duty to sanctify and heal the faithful in their journey as companions of Christ. In other words, throughout the Church’s history the pope and the other bishops, as successors to Saint Peter and the apostles, are to be spiritual leaders who strengthen all of the faithful in their missionary efforts. The faithful trust that the pope and the other bishops will fulfill that responsibility.

During the past decades this previously embraced level of trust has been severely damaged, although not irreversibly so, by the crisis of clergy sexual abuse of children, adolescents, and vulnerable adults. This damage has grown into a full-blown scandal because of a self-righteous spirit of injustice, and the commitment to secrecy that many bishops and other Church leaders have demonstrated. This behavior has adversely influenced the religious practice of many persons, a scandal that hinders the mission of the Church.

In this letter we speak to the damage inflicted by clergy sexual abuse and present some recommendations that would contribute positively to rebuilding trust among the Christian faithful.

Whether committed by force or by seduction, every act of sexual abuse of a child, an adolescent, or a vulnerable adult by a priest is a crime, both in civil law and in Church law. We must speak about these actions first as crimes against the dignity of the human person. This must be the starting point for addressing this crisis.

Moreover, it is wise to keep in mind the injury caused by sexual abuse: that for many victims/survivors their lives have been changed and reaching their full potential has become more challenging, especially as the trauma of the violence and the countless hours of tears and depression are recalled; that the voice to speak about the assault so as to seek help and to demand justice frequently has been stymied by the perpetrator and silenced by Christ’s Shepherds.   Their ability to trust has been deflated, at times resulting in a reduced ability to enter meaningful adult relationships; and their participation in the Church can become limited or even lost.  Many have become lost sheep and yearn for the shepherd to find them and carry them home.

We can never forget those overcome by despair; we speak of those victim/survivors who abuse drugs and alcohol and those who tragically became victim-suicides.

While some people believe that the Church leadership has responded well to the crisis, many victims/survivors strongly disagree. Actually, they say that reaction of the Church to the abuse has been more painful than was the pain caused by the sexual assault itself. Ponder that point! In so many ways the Church that the victims loved and participated in has turned a blind eye and a deaf ear towards them, and at times has tried to make the victims be seen as the villains, with the bishops and other Church leaders sympathetically proposing themselves to be seen as the victims.   No, the victims of clergy sexual abuse are the victims – not the bishops or Church leaders. For this reason, without a doubt, the Church’s sexual abuse crisis and scandal live on today as strong as ever.

Pope Francis, do not pass us by on the Camino.  Throughout the years we and other people like us have encountered apostles chastising us to silence, and we have been unable to penetrate the will of decision-makers in the Church so that they would resolve this crisis and scandal. You can make a difference: do not pass us by but elect to show us mercy. You can change the Church’s response. You can rebuild trust and begin to bring about the necessary healing of the Body of Christ.  Walk with us and allow us to participate in the re-building, and together on the Camino we can make a great witness.

To do so, your priority must be increasing the knowledge of the truth and the doing of justice so as to bring forth healing and peace. Compromise or popularity must not be a concern.

Here are six recommendations concerning increasing the knowledge of the truth and the doing of justice:
1) Most importantly establish within the Holy See an international body composed of Survivors of Clergy Sexual Abuse, lay professionals and clergy who will be responsible for the facilitation in all dioceses of a dialogue between the Church and victims/survivors of clergy sexual abuse, so as to nurture understanding. No one understands victims/survivors better than victims/survivors.  Do not pass us by but elect to show us mercy.
2) Revoke any oaths or pledges to secrecy by Church leaders while requiring them to provide thorough public explanations of all incidents of clergy sexual abuse.
3) Require all those who shepherd the flock of the Lord to make accessible to public scrutiny all documents and files related to clergy sexual abuse.
4) Remove from ecclesial office all Church leaders who facilitated the commission of clergy sexual abuse, obstructed justice regarding clergy sexual abuse, and/or destroyed information of any sort that could have served the cause of justice in clergy sexual abuse matters.
5) Require zero tolerance so as to remove from the ranks of the clergy and professed religious all those who in fact have committed sexual abuse of a child, an adolescent, or a vulnerable adult.
6) Compel all in Church leadership to the doing of justice. The common good of the Church and of the society must be taken into account, along with the equity between the parties that must include restitution and reparation.

Finally, Pope Francis, as the increased knowledge of the truth leads to justice, and justice in turn enhances healing and peace, the sexual abuse crisis and scandal will subside, trust by the faithful in the bishops will return, and the ability for the faithful to fully participate in the mission of the Church will be strengthened. Like the beggar on side of the street we call out to you. Do not pass us by but show us your mercy.  We make our prayer through the intercession of Our Lady Undoer of Knots.

We have the honor to be, Your Holiness,

Catholic Whistleblowers represented by:  Rev. John P. Bambrick (Jackson, NJ), Sr. Sally Butler, OP (Brooklyn, NY), Rev. Patrick Collins, Ph.D (Douglas, MI), Rev. James Connell (Sheboygan, WI), Rev. Thomas Doyle, OP (Vienna, VA), Robert M. Hoatson, Ph.D. (West Orange, NJ), Rev. Msgr. Kenneth E. Lasch, J.C.D. (Morristown, NJ), Rev. Ronald D. Lemmert (Peekskill, NY), Sr. Maureen Paul Turlish, SNDdeN (New Castle, DE)

Frank LaFerriere’s Story of Priest Rape

From the Blog Admin:

If you are a victim of sexual, physical, emotional or spiritual abuse by a Priest, and would like to speak out and let your voice be heard, please contact me.  Together, we all CAN make a difference and bring about change.  Please consider visiting Frank’s Blog and Facebook page through the following links:

Survivor of Roman Catholic Priest Sex Abuse

Rape Victims of the Catholic Church

This is a picture taken from my first communion. The three boys on the left of the priest are myself and my brothers. My oldest brother, Joe, is on the left. I am in the middle, and my twin Paul, is to the right. This was taken at St Charles Parish in Dover, NH.

This is a picture taken from my first communion. The three boys on the left of the priest are myself and my brothers. My oldest brother, Joe, is on the left. I am in the middle, and my twin Paul, is to the right. This was taken at St Charles Parish in Dover, NH.

FRANK’S STORY:

This is an update to Frank’s Story – May 26, 2015.

After a few years of therapy, I have come to realize what happened and how it happened that night at St Thomas More parish in Durham NH. This was NOT revealed during therapy, but because of some of the tools they taught me on how to calm down when I started going nuts over the nightmares and blaming myself for what happened at St Thomas More.

The anger I got through is extreme at times and suicidal at times. I was taught how to work through this by my incredible therapist. Now, yes in a way, I am changing some of my story. I will leave the original up, but this is what happened. Please read between the story for the corrections. Everything I state that Gaulin did to me was the truth. It was in the way it happened, and the realization that Gaulin was NOT the only priest who raped me that night at St Thomas More. There was also Joseph Desmond and one other priest there. I am a survivor of a priest rape at the St Thomas More Parish in Durham NH in 1975.

I had ran away from a foster home and was bought to the parish for the night for safe keeping until my social services worker could bring me to a group home in Rochester NH. IT WAS NOT WHEN I RAN AWAY FROM HOME, THAT THIS HAPPENED. It happened the night my father and I got into a fight. I had done a really shitty thing to him. I stole one of his checks. I had cashed it at Richardsons store in Durham NH. I bought a carton of marlboros with the money. It was probably two days later, that it was discovered. Well the cop showed up that night it was discovered. My father and I were fighting. The cop asked me what I wanted to do. I told him I wanted to leave this insane house. My father, pissed and rightfully so, reached over and punched me in the face, knocking me out of the chair. That is when the cop decided things needed to cool off, so he brought me to St Thomas More in Durahm. That night forever changed my life and the way I looked at life.

The priest there, whom shall remain nameless at this time, decided in that one night it would be better to rape my body and torture my mind, heart and soul than to protect me from all harm and give me one night of safety. Priest rape is a horrible crime. To take it from the RCC catechism: “Rape is the forcible violation of the sexual intimacy of another person. It does injury to justice and charity. Rape deeply wounds the respect, freedom, and physical and moral integrity to which every person has a right. It causes grave damage that can mark the victim for life. It is always an intrinsically evil act. Graver still is the rape of children committed by parents (incest) or those responsible for the education of the children entrusted to them.” (no. 2356)

You can have no idea what it is like, a priest raping a child. The very act does destroy your soul, your heart, your mind and body. It is a great evil that harms sometimes beyond repair. I am doing this blog as a way to give myself a voice. Hopefully also to bring some healing from the horror that was brought upon me by this priest, who for one night was supposed to protect me and keep me safe from harm. He allowed his disgusting, degenerate needs to outweigh the good that may have once existed within him. He destroyed my life for decades to come. Due to his actions I lost my faith in God and Jesus Christ. I doubt I will ever regain that. To me, that night, when I cried and begged God and Jesus Christ to save me from this evil, they did not answer my cries. I often wondered why? What was their purpose for allowing this priest to bring such and evil into my life? It seems to me I may never have that answer. I no longer believe or worship this God or Jesus Christ, though I have tried to look at Jesus in a new and different light. All I have to say to the priests who raped us children, to the leaders of the Roman Catholic Church who aided and abetted these crimes by cover-up, you all consider yourselves above the law. You all seem to feel justified in taking a stand against us victims of this evil and seek to stand in our way for true healing. You pay lip service to us and in the press, how you all want to reconcile us to your way of life, your God and Jesus and want to help us heal. Seriously? Your actions speak louder than words. I do know this though. Karma is real. As taught in the bible, Jesus said: as you sow, so shall you reap. You one day either in this life, or in the next will reap the things you have sown against us victims of your perverted, degenerate priests and your cover-up and continued protection of your church. I know for a fact many of you, like Pope Benedict XVI, Cardinal Timothy Dolan. Michael Leveda, Bernard Law and others and especially Bill Donohue, President of the Catholic League for Religious and Civil Rights will one day pay for your evils. That is not my law, but the very law of the one you profess to follow, Jesus Christ himself.

FRANK’S STORY ABOUT HIS RAPE BY A PRIEST AT ST THOMAS MORE PARISH IN DURHAM NH

In March of 1975, (this is the wrong date. This was the around the time I had ran away from home for the last time) The incident HAPPENED BEFORE this. I had gotten into a fight with my father. I did a very wrong and disgusting thing to him. First, I had stolen one of his checks and went to Richardson’s store in Durham, cashed it and bought a carton of Marlboros with the money. It took a couple of days but my dad found out. The cop showed up, I believe he called them about it, or it was the cop who told him about my cashing his check. All I know is, a cop was there, standing at the door of the mobile home we lived in, in Madbury NH. The cop asked me what I wanted. I mouthed off and told the cop I wanted to get the hell out of that insane place. That pissed my dad off, rightfully so. He reached over and punched me in the face for it and knocked me out of the chair. That is when the cop decided it was best to take me out of the house for a cooling off.

A police officer brought me to the church and no sooner did he leave and the priest, Father Leon Gaulin, brought me to his bedroom. He told me I had broken one of the Ten Commandments and told me I was now going to hell unless I did what he said. He had me strip and he got naked. First he performed oral sex on me to ‘suck out the evil from me”. He then forced me to perform oral sex on him to take his “sacred sacrament” into me. Even though I puked he was still not finished. He raped me anally then. While he was doing so, he forced me to say the Our Father and Hail Mary and he kept telling me if I told anyone about his special healing I would burn in hell forever. I remember crying and begging God and Jesus to make him stop. NOW. I remember Gaulin bringing me a glass of water, right after he raped me. He forced me to drink it. I remember him dressed in just a dark robe. He then layed up against me, in a spooning fashion and started to masturbate me and I passed out. I though now remember, I was also raped, by “Father” Joseph Desmond and another priest was also there…or another man, who also raped me. I was in and out of consciousness. BUT I REMEMBER DESMOND, GAULIN and another man, raping me.YES it is still highly foggy. It is hard to remember things when you have been drugged. Also what they did to me, was so truly evil, so truly horrifying, my mind still refuses to release it all. What ever they did to me? I really do not want to remember. Remembering what Gaulin did to me, is more than enough for me. I can only imagine, what other evils they put me through that night. This is why I originally thought it was Desmond who raped me. Sure I was convinced it was NOT him. When I saw a picture of Leon Gaulin in a newspaper article. I KNEW it was Gaulin that the cop left me with. I knew it was Gaulin who first took me into the bedroom and raped me. I remember going to court the next day in Durham. I was sent back home.

I did in fact, eventually run away. My father had gone to Honduras to meet his future wife Dena. My older brother and my paternal grandfather was left in charge. I remember that I had gotten home from school and for something, my older brother and I got into a fight. We were fighting right in the middle of the mobile home, and my grandfather was trying to break it up. I went after my brother with a pair of homemade nunchuks. They were basically a broom stick, broken in half with a rope tying them together. The rope broke. Well I ran out of the house and down the street, where one of our neighbors saw me, and brought me into their house. That afternoon, I spent the rest of the day with Lenny, his girlfriend Caroline, and his brother and sister. I know their names, and I had a major crush on the sister. Later, Lenny brought me across the street from route 9 where we used to wait for our school bus and into the field and woods where they had built a little log style thing and that is where I slept that night, with Lenny’s dog annie next to me. I woke up the next morning and left and went to school at Oyster River, but did not attend classes. I was then picked up by the cops and turned over to Welfare. I then became a ward of the state, with my social worker being Pam Shaw.

The rest of the story is true. I did get brought to Teen Haven. I was a mess. I had ran away from various places. I had been in Port House in Portsmouth NH. The group home got closed because of an incident there involving a kid who had diabetes and committed suicide. Long story there. I then went through various temporary foster homes. One was an old lady in Dover, who could not handle me. I was then sent to another foster home in Somersworth. That place drove me insane. The mother was a bible thumping baptist. We used to have to go to Tri City Baptist Church for long services. She had three sons. I ran away from that place. I went and stayed with Pammy and Tammy Harris in Somersworth, who used to be our old next door neighbors on Central Ave when we lived in Dover. Russ from that foster home found me and beat the crap out of me on the porch. He was pissed off that I had ran away. That is when the cops got a hold of Pam. She then brought me to Teen Haven. I started having nightmares of the world being destroyed. It was burning. I then became a pyromaniac. I set fire to two houses, though they were abandoned, the woods, called the Pines behind Spaulding High School in Rochester, and then set fire to a truck that was like two hundred yards from the Teen Haven for which I got arrested for the next day. I was then brought to Austin Cate Academy in Center Strafford, NH. I still had the nightmares and even attempted my own evil. I tried three times to rape a girl in the Pines. I could not do it though, hell I puked each time I tried. To this very day I still hold guilt for this. Yes I did not rape this girl, but it was just the fact that I even thought of doing it that horrified me. This is NOT me. I wish I could in fact track her down and apologize. I am so incredibly sorry that I thought of bringing this horror into your life. I am so incredibly sorry that I even thought of harming you Miss. I hope that you have had a beautiful life, full of happiness and joy. There is something though that I did learn about this in therapy. I was NOT EVIL. If I were, then I would have raped this girl. I would NOT feel guilty about it, even to this very day. I know I am not evil…but sometimes, in the darkness of the soul, when you are dealing with your own horrors, you do not think straight. I also proved those scum whom do rape children and said they could not control themselves, they are WRONG. YOU CAN. You just do not want to. You embrace that incredible evil, so you condemn yourself. I was raped, twice and almost raped a third time…but YOU can say NO to perpetuating this evil. YOU CAN break the cycle. I did tell a school friend at Austin Cate, but he did not believe me. After that, my nightmares got even worse. I was being gang raped in hell by priests, bishops and popes and even the demons of hell. I would wake up when the priest who raped me, now a demon would come over and rip my penis off and eat it. I became a drunk and a druggie. I got into all kinds of trouble with the law. I got raped one more time by a guy who picked me up hitch hiking and drugged me and I woke up to him raping me in the back of his RV. I thought I deserved this though and it was punishment for my telling John at school what happened to me.

Then two months later, I was hitch hiking again, and this guy pulled off the dirt road before the bridge in Gloucester Mass and tried to rape me, but I defended myself and sliced him up real good. I tried to get his car out of a ditch because he had run off, but I couldn’t, so I ran up the embankment and saw a cop car and flagged it down. I did not know he had already picked up the guy and I told the cop what happened. Well he went to put me into the back seat and I saw the guy and I freaked the hell out. Then the cop asked the guy if I was the one who just tried to rob him and first he said no. He said no a couple of times but then said yes when I kept saying he just tried to rape me. The cop believed me though. Yet, there was nothing he could do because the guy pressed all kind of charges against me. I was charged with Assault with a Deadly Weapon, attempted Armed Robbery and other charges. Again, I felt I deserved this and it pretty well ruined my life, I lost my job, my apartment everything and became homeless, eventually being arrested for breaking into a deserted boy scout hall in Rockport to live. I then went to jail to wait the trial but was given a 2 year probation sentence. From then on my life was even more a living hell. I went to prison numerous times. I did time in Florida for burglary of a hotel room and a car, in Maine twice, once for burglary and once for escape and theft. I went to prison for five years in Michigan. There, at Florence Crane, I was surrounded by pedophiles. I sort of got some revenge there. I have tried to kill myself numerous times. I have woken up in a hospital er having my stomach pumped out. I have even tried to shoot myself in the head, but some reason, the gun jammed. I have done a lot of things to kill myself in many other ways. When I say I was a drunk, I meant it. I would drink a fifth of vodka and a case of beer and try to kill myself by alcohol poisoning. I would eventually pass out after puking and wake up later going WTF? Why am I still here? I lost everything, I lost my soul. I lost all I held dear to me when I was a child. I was completely and totally lost. I thought I was the Anti-Christ. This is even in my police records under my alias. When I got arrested in Daytona and the cops asked me my name? I told them I was Damien the Anti-Christ. I took the name from the Omen series movie. I did some pretty nasty things to the churches. I would go in and piss in their wine bottles they used for sacrament. I would piss and crap on their steps and in their pews. I did a Linda Blair exorcist thing one time during a Christmas eve mass when the priest came by and sprinkled us…running out laughing afterwards. I eventually came out about my rape in 2011 after helping another rape victim.

Original Story:

In March of 1975, I had run away from an abusive foster home. The only place they could put me for the night was St Thomas More Parish in Durham, NH, until my social services worker, Pam Shaw, could pick me up the next morning and bring me to Teen Haven group home in Rochester NH.

A police officer brought me to the church and no sooner did he leave and the priest brought me to his bedroom.

He told me I had broken one of the Ten Commandments and told me I was now going to hell unless I did what he said.

He had me strip and he got naked. First he performed oral sex on me to ‘suck out the evil from me”. He then forced me to perform oral sex on him to take his “sacred sacrament” into me. Even though I puked he was still not finished.

He raped me anally then. While he was doing so, he forced me to say the Our Father and Hail Mary and he kept telling me if I told anyone about his special healing I would burn in hell forever.

I remember crying and begging God and Jesus to make him stop.

When my social worker picked me up the next morning, I couldn’t even look her in the eyes. She wanted to treat me to breakfast, but I refused. She knew something was wrong but I could not tell her.

She then brought me to Teen Haven. I started having nightmares of the world being destroyed. It was burning. I then became a pyromaniac. I set fire to two houses, though they were abandoned, the woods, called the Pines behind Spaulding High School in Rochester, and then set fire to a truck that was like two hundred yards from the Teen Haven for which I got arrested for the next day.

I was then brought to Austin Cate Academy in Center Strafford, NH. I still had the nightmares and even attempted my own evil. I tried three times to rape a girl in the Pines. I could not do it though, hell I puked each time I tried.

I did tell a school friend at Austin Cate, but he did not believe me. After that, my nightmares got even worse. I was being gang raped in hell by priests, bishops and popes and even the demons of hell. I would wake up when the priest who raped me, now a demon would come over and rip my penis off and eat it.

I became a drunk and a druggie. I got into all kinds of trouble with the law. I got raped one more time by a guy who picked me up hitch hiking and drugged me and I woke up to him raping me in the back of his RV. I thought I deserved this though and it was punishment for my telling John at school what happened to me.

Then two months later, I was hitch hiking again, and this guy pulled off the dirt road before the bridge in Gloucester Mass and tried to rape me, but I defended myself and sliced him up real good. I tried to get his car out of a ditch because he had run off, but I couldn’t, so I ran up the embankment and saw a cop car and flagged it down. I did not know he had already picked up the guy and I told the cop what happened. Well he went to put me into the back seat and I saw the guy and I freaked the hell out. Then the cop asked the guy if I was the one who just tried to rob him and first he said no. He said no a couple of times but then said yes when I kept saying he just tried to rape me.

The cop believed me though. Yet, there was nothing he could do because the guy pressed all kind of charges against me. I was charged with Assault with a Deadly Weapon, attempted Armed Robbery and other charges. Again, I felt I deserved this and it pretty well ruined my life, I lost my job, my apartment everything and became homeless, eventually being arrested for breaking into a deserted boy scout hall in Rockport to live. I then went to jail to wait the trial but was given a 2 year probation sentence.

From then on my life was even more a living hell.

I eventually came out two and a half years ago after helping another rape victim.

Since then, I have been speaking out, through Facebook and my blog and in letters to the editors. I also am working on my own book about this and am working on naming names in the book of all the evil pedophiles of the US branch of the Roman Catholic Church.