This story isn’t about the priest who abused me. It’s about my mother
The church, though aware of our abuser’s crimes, had kept Father Francis Melfe employed and in our lives throughout our childhoods.
At Saint Patrick’s, where he was a priest, we were told to call him Father Melfe. At home, we were to call him dad.
Frank was my mother’s lover and the sexual predator to each of her five children, two girls and three boys. As well as being a pedophile, Frank was a thief and an arsonist. He lived outlandishly, spending money he stole from the church or, later, from an insurance company.
Like so many others before and after him, Frank had been able to use the Catholic church as a cover. This is why, on Valentine’s Day in 2019, decades after I’d last seen Frank, my husband, Todd, and I found ourselves crammed in the tiny reception area of the Bull and Moose Club in Albany, New York. We were there to attend a press conference heralding the Child Victims Act, which allows survivors of child sexual abuse to pursue civil damages against their abusers and their enablers, no matter how long ago the abuse occurred.
A few days after that, we filed suit against the Roman Catholic diocese of Albany. We were the first survivors in the diocese to do so. My siblings and I weren’t after money; we’d never want the church to think any sum could provide penance for their crimes. Taking on the diocese was about one thing only: stopping them.
Even with those facts at hand, it would have been reasonable to believe that my siblings and I didn’t stand a chance against the church. The Albany diocese is over 150 years old, extremely wealthy and powerful. It stretches across 14 New York state counties, has approximately 325,000 parishioners, and was served by nearly 200 priests. MOre than half of those priests were credibly accused of sexually abusing children. One hundred and six of them. Father Francis Melfe was just one among many.
As our lawyers submitted evidence and depositions, the church argued that because my mother’s role in the abuse was undeniable, they’d only pay for half of the damages.
A master archivist of lies, she kept herself busy late into the evenings, all while Frank had undisturbed access to our bedrooms. In the morning, she would deftly cover her children’s hickeys with Band-Aids before sending them off to school.
Like most highly skilled predators, Frank’s motivation to hunt was strong: he had another secret family on the side.
Mom knew about them: siblings headed by a single mother from the Philippines. Frank told us the poor Filipinos needed his help; he was called to duty.
Frank and Mom visited them, and Mom pretended she did not know who they really were. The youngest, the boy, I suspected may have been Frank’s. In one botched visit, Mom and one of my brothers caught the other mom and Frank together in bed.
Still, Mom stayed with Frank.
https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle...use-mother
The church, though aware of our abuser’s crimes, had kept Father Francis Melfe employed and in our lives throughout our childhoods.
At Saint Patrick’s, where he was a priest, we were told to call him Father Melfe. At home, we were to call him dad.
Frank was my mother’s lover and the sexual predator to each of her five children, two girls and three boys. As well as being a pedophile, Frank was a thief and an arsonist. He lived outlandishly, spending money he stole from the church or, later, from an insurance company.
Like so many others before and after him, Frank had been able to use the Catholic church as a cover. This is why, on Valentine’s Day in 2019, decades after I’d last seen Frank, my husband, Todd, and I found ourselves crammed in the tiny reception area of the Bull and Moose Club in Albany, New York. We were there to attend a press conference heralding the Child Victims Act, which allows survivors of child sexual abuse to pursue civil damages against their abusers and their enablers, no matter how long ago the abuse occurred.
A few days after that, we filed suit against the Roman Catholic diocese of Albany. We were the first survivors in the diocese to do so. My siblings and I weren’t after money; we’d never want the church to think any sum could provide penance for their crimes. Taking on the diocese was about one thing only: stopping them.
Even with those facts at hand, it would have been reasonable to believe that my siblings and I didn’t stand a chance against the church. The Albany diocese is over 150 years old, extremely wealthy and powerful. It stretches across 14 New York state counties, has approximately 325,000 parishioners, and was served by nearly 200 priests. MOre than half of those priests were credibly accused of sexually abusing children. One hundred and six of them. Father Francis Melfe was just one among many.
As our lawyers submitted evidence and depositions, the church argued that because my mother’s role in the abuse was undeniable, they’d only pay for half of the damages.
A master archivist of lies, she kept herself busy late into the evenings, all while Frank had undisturbed access to our bedrooms. In the morning, she would deftly cover her children’s hickeys with Band-Aids before sending them off to school.
Like most highly skilled predators, Frank’s motivation to hunt was strong: he had another secret family on the side.
Mom knew about them: siblings headed by a single mother from the Philippines. Frank told us the poor Filipinos needed his help; he was called to duty.
Frank and Mom visited them, and Mom pretended she did not know who they really were. The youngest, the boy, I suspected may have been Frank’s. In one botched visit, Mom and one of my brothers caught the other mom and Frank together in bed.
Still, Mom stayed with Frank.
https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle...use-mother
teachings of the Bible are so muddled and self-contradictory that it was possible for Christians to happily burn heretics alive for five long centuries. It was even possible for the most venerated patriarchs of the Church, like St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas, to conclude that heretics should be tortured (Augustine) or killed outright (Aquinas). Martin Luther and John Calvin advocated the wholesale murder of heretics, apostates, Jews, and witches. - Sam Harris, "Letter To A Christian Nation"
