What sorrow for a calculated, controlling controlling serial sex abuser? The memory of the suffering caused by does not die with him. Now he is dead, child abusing priest and teacher Donal Collins how should we feel? asks Maria Pepper Wexford People April 14, 2010 https://www.wexfordpeople.ie/news/what-sorrow-for-a-calculated-controlling-controlling-serial-sex-abuser-27713611.html WHAT CAN one say in an obituary about a paedophile priest? The normal tributes do not apply because the crimes committed overshadow everything else. Donal Collins, the defrocked priest who died alone in Curracloe last Friday in his late seventies, was certainly well-known. He was a native of Wexford town, a priest, a teacher and a school principal. He was regarded at one time as an inspiring science and physics teacher who prepared students at St. Peter's College for the Young Scientist Exhibition in Dublin every year. He was also a swimming coach for a while, and one year he directed the school play. He took an active interest in extra-curricular activities such as photography. His nick-name was 'Slinker' but some students also called him 'Paws'. It doesn't take much of an imagination to guess why. Any respect he enjoyed during his lifetime, was falsely and deceptively earned – because, behind the facade of priest and principal, Donal Collins was not a good man. He was not a kind man. He was a pre-meditated, controlling, calculated sex abuser who used his position as an educator to molest and assault boys during a 40-year reign of stealthy physical and emotional intimidation. His position of authority in a respected boarding school gave him access to boys day and night. Many of his victims were helpless captives living away from home. Collins was among the evil stars of the Ferns Report which cited him as one of 12 priests involved in hundreds of cases of child sex abuse in the diocese between 1962 and 2002. Even after he was first found out in 1966 when a complaint was made to the then Bishop of Ferns, Donal J. Herlihy, he came back from a two-year stint of 'penance' as a curate in Kentish Town in London and started abusing all over again. He was accused in the mid-Sixties of inappropriate behaviour towards 20 boys in a dormitory at St. Peter's College after he inspected and measured their penises on the pretext of checking their development. Later, many years after his return, he was rewarded by being promoted to the position of school principal by Bishop Brendan Comiskey, who told the Ferns Inquiry that he embarked on 'an intensive consultation process' before making the appointment. Collins's unhindered career as a serial sex abuser is a testament to the shocking culture of looking-the-other-way that existed in St. Peter's and the Catholic Church. Some of the retrospective explanations given to the inquiry by clergy about the handling of complaints at that time are so naive as to be unbelievable. On summoning Collins back to his teaching post in Wexford in 1968, Bishop Herlihy instructed him to change his lodgings to the old college building, a distance from the student dormitories, presumably so that he would not be so easily tempted at night. But he very quickly gave in to temptation anyway. According to the Ferns Report, he began abusing at St. Peter's once more in the early 1970s. In the early 1990s, more boys made complaints about abuse that took place between 1972 and 1984, up to four years before he was appointed principal. He invited boys into his room to assault them and abused them on overnight trips to Dublin for the Young Scientist competition. In the 1990s, after more allegations came to light, he moved himself to Florida where he sought counselling and worked in a parish. Bishop Comiskey didn't tell the clerical authorities in America about his history. In 1998, he eventually pleaded guilty in court to four charges of gross indecency and one of indecent assault, but not before he had tried to stop the proceedings with a Judicial Review in 1996. He was sentenced to four years in prison and served one year at the Curragh Prison. Some of his victims spoke in court about the damage he had done to them. In 2004, he was dismissed from the priesthood on the direction of Pope Benedict XVI, who was then Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, and on an application by the then Ferns apostolic administrator Bishop Eamonn Walsh. Earlier this week, the Diocese of Ferns was keen to distance the institution from the man it protected for so long, as it pointed out in a statement that the title 'Fr' does not attach to Donal Collins. Following his return to Wexford on his release from prison, he presented a pathetic figure around the area, but sympathy for him was in short supply. Now that he is dead, what should we feel? Forgiveness? We are supposed to experience compassion and sadness when someone dies but the death of someone like Donal Collins fills us with complicated, uncomfortable emotions. If our response is 'good riddance', we are conditioned to feel guilty for harbouring such thoughts about a deceased man, yet we don't feel it is appropriate to feel sorrowful. The trouble is that the memory of the suffering he caused doesn't die with him. It lives on in the experience of his victims who are now middleaged men, many of them now in their late forties and fifties, whose carefree teenage years were stolen from them. We might be able to forgive Donal Collins if he had erred momentarily and later repented, but he abused continuously and with determination. The only sorrow we can feel is for his relatives. We are left wondering about the man that Donal Collins could have been had he not chosen to cruelly abuse the privilege, status and trust that he was given. He was an ostracised figure in the last years of his life and his burial this week alongside his parents was destined to be a lonely affair. The organisers had asked for the funerals arrangements to be kept secret Ultimately, however, Donal Collins chose the life that, unsurprisingly, ended in a lonely, secret death without praise or tribute. WHAT CAN one say in an obituary about a paedophile priest? The normal tributes do not apply because the crimes committed overshadow everything else. Donal Collins, the defrocked priest who died alone in Curracloe last Friday in his late seventies, was certainly well-known. He was a native of Wexford town, a priest, a teacher and a school principal. He was regarded at one time as an inspiring science and physics teacher who prepared students at St. Peter's College for the Young Scientist Exhibition in Dublin every year. He was also a swimming coach for a while, and one year he directed the school play. He took an active interest in extra-curricular activities such as photography. His nick-name was 'Slinker' but some students also called him 'Paws'. It doesn't take much of an imagination to guess why. Any respect he enjoyed during his lifetime, was falsely and deceptively earned – because, behind the facade of priest and principal, Donal Collins was not a good man. He was not a kind man. He was a pre-meditated, controlling, calculated sex abuser who used his position as an educator to molest and assault boys during a 40-year reign of stealthy physical and emotional intimidation. His position of authority in a respected boarding school gave him access to boys day and night. Many of his victims were helpless captives living away from home. Collins was among the evil stars of the Ferns Report which cited him as one of 12 priests involved in hundreds of cases of child sex abuse in the diocese between 1962 and 2002. Even after he was first found out in 1966 when a complaint was made to the then Bishop of Ferns, Donal J. Herlihy, he came back from a two-year stint of 'penance' as a curate in Kentish Town in London and started abusing all over again. He was accused in the mid-Sixties of inappropriate behaviour towards 20 boys in a dormitory at St. Peter's College after he inspected and measured their penises on the pretext of checking their development. Later, many years after his return, he was rewarded by being promoted to the position of school principal by Bishop Brendan Comiskey, who told the Ferns Inquiry that he embarked on 'an intensive consultation process' before making the appointment. Collins's unhindered career as a serial sex abuser is a testament to the shocking culture of looking-the-other-way that existed in St. Peter's and the Catholic Church. Some of the retrospective explanations given to the inquiry by clergy about the handling of complaints at that time are so naive as to be unbelievable. On summoning Collins back to his teaching post in Wexford in 1968, Bishop Herlihy instructed him to change his lodgings to the old college building, a distance from the student dormitories, presumably so that he would not be so easily tempted at night. But he very quickly gave in to temptation anyway. According to the Ferns Report, he began abusing at St. Peter's once more in the early 1970s. In the early 1990s, more boys made complaints about abuse that took place between 1972 and 1984, up to four years before he was appointed principal. He invited boys into his room to assault them and abused them on overnight trips to Dublin for the Young Scientist competition. In the 1990s, after more allegations came to light, he moved himself to Florida where he sought counselling and worked in a parish. Bishop Comiskey didn't tell the clerical authorities in America about his history. In 1998, he eventually pleaded guilty in court to four charges of gross indecency and one of indecent assault, but not before he had tried to stop the proceedings with a Judicial Review in 1996. He was sentenced to four years in prison and served one year at the Curragh Prison. Some of his victims spoke in court about the damage he had done to them. In 2004, he was dismissed from the priesthood on the direction of Pope Benedict XVI, who was then Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, and on an application by the then Ferns apostolic administrator Bishop Eamonn Walsh. Earlier this week, the Diocese of Ferns was keen to distance the institution from the man it protected for so long, as it pointed out in a statement that the title 'Fr' does not attach to Donal Collins. Following his return to Wexford on his release from prison, he presented a pathetic figure around the area, but sympathy for him was in short supply. Now that he is dead, what should we feel? Forgiveness? We are supposed to experience compassion and sadness when someone dies but the death of someone like Donal Collins fills us with complicated, uncomfortable emotions. If our response is 'good riddance', we are conditioned to feel guilty for harbouring such thoughts about a deceased man, yet we don't feel it is appropriate to feel sorrowful. The trouble is that the memory of the suffering he caused doesn't die with him. It lives on in the experience of his victims who are now middleaged men, many of them now in their late forties and fifties, whose carefree teenage years were stolen from them. We might be able to forgive Donal Collins if he had erred momentarily and later repented, but he abused continuously and with determination. The only sorrow we can feel is for his relatives. We are left wondering about the man that Donal Collins could have been had he not chosen to cruelly abuse the privilege, status and trust that he was given. He was an ostracised figure in the last years of his life and his burial this week alongside his parents was destined to be a lonely affair. The organisers had asked for the funerals arrangements to be kept secret Ultimately, however, Donal Collins chose the life that, unsurprisingly, ended in a lonely, secret death without praise or tribute.

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