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	A Cross to Bear By Barney Zwartz The Age October 6, 2009 http://www.theage.com.au/national/a-cross-to-bear-20091005-gjeu.html [the original article] PETER LAZZARI'S reaction was visceral - the Melbourne physician stared in shock at the image before him. It left him profoundly shaken - a response that was echoed among other readers. On September 15, The Age ran an article "Sacrificial altar boy" with a photograph taken in the 1960s of altar boys at St Patrick's Cathedral. It set out the story of Gavan Boyle, raped by Monsignor Penn Jones in 1963, his slow, inexorable path to an early death as an alcoholic near-derelict, and the devastating effect on his wider family - an aspect of sexual abuse that often slips into the background. Read the original report here "I was shattered when I saw the picture, absolutely shocked," Lazzari says. "It was deeply distressing, I couldn't believe the effect it would have on me." Not only had Lazzari sat at the same desk as Gavan Boyle at school, the fate of a close friend from the school where Jones had been chaplain suddenly took on a more sinister hue. Lazzari, a physician with considerable experience with abuse victims, says the friend died at 31 of alcoholism. "He was a GP in Williamstown. He rang the St Vincent's admitting officer, who was a doctor in those days, to say 'I've got a patient for you'. They said, 'what's his name?' and he said 'it's me'. He died three days later of liver failure." Was he abused? Lazzari can never know, but his self-destructive behaviour from his teens until his death and other factors suggest it is a distinct possibility. "These were vulnerable pubescent or pre-pubescent boys who were exploited appallingly by a monster. They would have done the Catholic thing and not complained and felt guilty, because you were taught to feel guilty about all sorts of things," Lazzari says. "No one was there for them, their families … don't get to know. School mates probably couldn't do anything." Lazzari was one of several people who contacted The Age, some to say they were in the photograph, or had endured some sort of unpleasant episode with Monsignor Jones. It raises questions about what responsibility the church has, once it knows there is an abuser in its midst, to actively seek out other victims and try to help them before their lives disintegrate in a vicious spiral. Should the church report abusers to the police? What can and should it do with abusive priests? How can it balance its responsibilities for justice to both alleged victim and accused? In Jones' case, the church did not receive an official complaint until he had died, and been honoured with an effusive eulogy by then-archbishop Francis Little in The Age. But many of the boys under his care knew. He seemed obsessed with talking to boys about erections and sex, and if he could take things further he did, they say. One, "Matthew", sent The Age an email about Jones' attempt to sodomise him, but later asked that details not be quoted as he was too distraught. Like Gavan, he complained to the Catholic Church, and his account was accepted by independent commissioner Peter O'Callaghan, QC. "Jack", an altar boy, knew three others in the photograph and strongly suspects that two or maybe all three of them were abused. "They were slightly effeminate. I was shattered [by The Age article] because when I first met Penn Jones I thought he was a magnificent priest. I was naive … Jones was a terrible man. He used the confessional as a sounding board. He asked me once, what did I do with my erections. I walked out of the confessional." Not every caller had negative memories. Father Grant O'Neill, parish priest at Diamond Creek, one of the altar boys pictured, is wary of the rush to condemn a man now dead and unable to defend himself. "I was an altar server for six years at the cathedral. I never got a hint of anything going on." O'Neill says Gavan Boyle claimed he was abused at a summer camp at Shoreham, but the church couldn't get the campsite in summer - the camps were every May. "For me it was a real time of [Christian] formation, and the young Christian workers had a profound impact. "I worked as a prison chaplain for 10 years and was there when some of my ex-priest brothers came there. I vaguely remember Gavan. I can't say it didn't happen to him, but I used to see it in jails all the time: there's a whole series of things why lives fall apart." THE Catholic hierarchy also has reservations. A spokesman for Archbishop Denis Hart says the article on the Boyles is "a flawed and incomplete basis on which to address questions as to how the Melbourne Response operates" and complains that the report lacked balance. But given that the church has formally accepted at least two complaints about Jones as true, has the church any responsibility to try to find and help other potential victims? The archbishop's spokesman says no. The great majority of complaints are about abuse long ago, so it would be impractical to search for victims. Of the 300 or so complaints that have been accepted, 16 per cent happened in the 1950s, 22 per cent in the '60s, 38 per cent in the '70s and 17 per cent in the '80s. Further, whether a victim wishes to complain is entirely a matter for that person, according to the spokesman. Some do not want to complain, mainly because they do not want to revive the past. According to the spokesman, the church does not report abusers to the police, but says it always invites and even encourages victims to do so. If the victim does, the church process stops while the police investigate. Often the victim has already been to the police. So what does the church do? According to the spokesman, if a practising priest is the subject of an investigation likely to lead to charges, he is usually put on administrative leave until after the case is heard. If he is convicted he remains on administrative leave - his faculties to act as a priest are removed. If the complaint does not go to the police and a practising priest admits abuse amounting to criminal conduct, again the archbishop will put him on administrative leave, removing him from public ministry. But critics, such as Broken Rites, say this is a recent development forced on the church by the public outcry. Until recently, bishops were inclined to move errant priests from parish to parish, where they often re-offended. One of the most notorious Victorian offenders was Father Gerald Ridsdale, now jailed for the third time and convicted of sexual offences against 40 children. According to court evidence, his superiors in the Ballarat diocese knew certainly by 1971 that he was a danger to boys, but kept him as an active priest until he was convicted in 1993. Broken Rites says the diocese shifted the Ridsdale problem from parish to parish but it never warned parishioners that their children were in danger. The Melbourne Archdiocese Response was introduced in 1996 by then-archbishop George Pell. Some victims, including Gavan Boyle's family, have criticised it as lacking compassion and accountability, and a senior priest, Father Kevin Dillon, recently called for a review, saying the church was "too self-protecting for its own good". Archbishop Hart responded that the protocol had delivered "compassion, counselling and compensation" to hundreds of victims, and there was no need for a review. According to Archbishop Hart's spokesman, the independent commissioner has in the 14 years he has been operating made 300 findings of sexual abuse, involving 58 priests over 60 years. Of those, six have been jailed, three were convicted and given suspended sentences, 30 died before the complaint was made, and 16 no longer function in priestly ministry. How does the church balance its responsibilities to accused and victim? According to the spokesman, if the victim does not want to go to the police he or she is interviewed by the independent commissioner and given a transcript to amend or qualify as required. This is then given to the accused for his response. If he denies it, the commissioner conducts a confidential hearing using the same procedures as a magistrates' court. In every case so far, the accused has had his own lawyer, sometimes so has the complainant. If the accused admits the complaint, it is reported to Archbishop Hart. But often the priest has already been convicted or has died. Geoffrey Robinson, the Sydney bishop who designed the Towards Healing abuse protocol used in every Australian diocese except Melbourne, says balancing justice for both parties is one of the biggest difficulties. "You can't call them all guilty instantly. It's often one person's word against another's, and you can't take it any further, but the police have the same problem. Towards Healing has a better clear-up rate than the police because [clergy] will make admissions, but not if they fear there is prison at the end of it." Under Towards Healing, offending priests are removed from all ministry. Most end up doing nothing, or perhaps working in a library - but not a school library. "If you want someone not to offend, then kicking him out on to the street is not the way to do it. There is a duty to get treatment for the person and place him somewhere you can keep an eye on him." How difficult is it to seek out other victims? The archbishop's spokesman calls it "impractical", and it certainly takes effort and discretion - one cannot simply say to a parent, "Father X molested another child, are yours all right?" - but the police manage to do it in their investigations. Detective Inspector Glenn Davies, head of the Victoria Police sexual crimes squad, says police often find other victims through the first. "They know the circumstances, they talk to each other. Sometimes we make a public appeal. Often we find them by examining records in the church: who was working, rosters, parish records." Davies says the church does not differ much from a football club recently in the news: it naturally wants to protect its reputation. But church authorities are entirely co-operative with police, much more than most institutions, he says. Police are also used to asking difficult personal questions about people's lifestyles, and have a victim's charter to guide them. But Davies believes it is essential for victims to come to the police, saying the under-reporting of sexual assault is massive. "We are the true experts, with legislative support and coercive powers. We will get results if you are looking to have the perpetrator brought to justice. We are the only ones who can do that. The Catholic Church has no coercive powers, and it is not mandatory for the church to report abuse as it is for medical people." If there is one thing Peter Lazzari feels strongly about, it is that the church should not be involved. He tells of a woman of 76 whose recovery began 69 years after she was abused by a relative when she finally opened up in his rooms. "Even though her life was made a mess by it for 69 years, healing is possible," Lazzari says. "Gavan did not have this opportunity to really heal, he was thwarted at every turn and he ultimately died because of it. These people can be helped, it can be effective, and they can move on. So it is an extremely important process to open it more in the public arena, to encourage people to come forward, not just for the sake of retribution but to reach the stage where they grow in their life and become more complete human beings again. "To expect the church to help is totally inappropriate. It needs to disentangle the victims from its tentacles. Christians, yes. Catholics, yes, but not the institutional church. Not the biased, self-interested Catholic hierarchy." TRAIL OF ABUSE MANY readers contacted The Age after the article "Sacrificial altar boy" appeared in the paper on September 15. John Schulze, a former student at Parade College, remembers a number of the altar boys in the photo, and knows that several had troubled years after leaving school. "My first and only contact with Penn Jones was a compulsory meeting with him acting as chaplain. His first words to me were not, 'Hello, I'm Monsignor Penn Jones' or any other niceties one might have expected with a person of his standing. His first words were, 'Son, do you pull yourself?' I was gobsmacked. "There were always rumours going around among the boys at Parade regarding unsavoury behaviour by PJ. I also know that all my year 9 friends were asked that same question by PJ." "Bill", now 52, was a bit more streetwise. "We all knew he was doing it or trying to do it. He'd take small groups of boys to the Christian Brothers school in Abbotsford; they had their own squash court. You'd play squash and everybody had to have a shower. It would be three or four of us, and he stepped in and said something, and one of us, it might have been me, said, 'Don't even f---ing think about it', so he walked away." "Bill" had his first Crown Lager at 14 in Jones' office at the cathedral. "We played him along. But we knew he was targeting others. We knew straight away what he was up to, it was all too good to be true. 'I'll be your friend'. What bullshit. He was a con artist who used his position to trick parents into giving their kids up. He was just an animal." "Richard" sent his account of Jones' peculiar predilections to victim advocacy group Broken Rites after The Age article appeared. "I was one of those boys that was called into Jones' office for a chat about spirituality, or about going to Mass on Sundays. It turned out to be something quite different. It was about masturbation, how big the penis becomes, about the penis becoming red … all this told with detail and with strange movements of his hands. "Despite countless therapy sessions concerning this episode in my life, I have never been able to remember what happened next."
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