WATERTOWN (MA)
Boston Globe
May 6, 2026
By John J. Lawn Jr.
Trauma doesn’t follow a legal timeline, and neither should the opportunity to seek accountability.
John J. Lawn Jr. of Watertown represents the 10th Middlesex District in the Massachusetts House of Representatives and is House chairman of the Joint Committee on Health Care Financing.
Massachusetts law sets a statute of limitations for survivors of child sexual abuse. The law is outdated and needs to be changed. For many, these restrictive timelines perpetuate silence and deny the right to be heard.
I know because it happened to me.
For most of my life, I kept a secret: I’m a survivor of child sexual abuse. Today I’m speaking out. I’m doing so to help prevent children from experiencing what so many of us have endured and because no survivor should feel alone.
I was abused by two men — one Edward Darragh, a trusted leader at my local community pool and skating rink, the other a Catholic priest, Brian Gallagher. Both have since died. Like so many survivors, I was unable to speak about what happened to me.
Years of revelations about Catholic priests haunted me privately, but still I stayed publicly silent for decades. I could not even tell my mother when she asked if it had also happened to me, after one of the men who abused me was arrested for abusing others. I wish I could have spoken up sooner — for myself and for others. I’m speaking now, in the hope that stepping out of the shadows can help others who deserve unwavering support.
The men who abused me followed a path now all too familiar: minimal consequences, quiet transfers, and systems that allowed the abuse to continue.
Trauma does not operate on a legal timeline. It buries itself deep, shaped by shame, fear, and a child’s instinct to survive. It can take years to recognize what happened, decades to speak it aloud, and a lifetime to fully understand the harm — not only inflicted by abusers but also enabled by the institutions around them.
Our laws should reflect that reality. Instead, they impose strict deadlines. Justice should not expire before a survivor even understands what happened to them.
As a legislator, I’ve heard from survivors across the Commonwealth who describe the same painful experience: They have finally found the courage to come forward, only to learn that the law says it is too late. Too late to seek accountability. Too late to uncover the truth. Too late to protect others.
Will eliminating the civil statute of limitations guarantee justice in every case? No. Nor will it mean every survivor comes forward. And it certainly won’t change my own story.
But it will ensure something essential: the opportunity to be heard.
It would allow survivors to pursue accountability when they are ready — not when the law says they should be. It would bring visibility to abuse that too often stays hidden. And it would help expose patterns that protect abusers and put others at risk.
Massachusetts has led on this issue before. I think of Rosanne Sliney of Waltham, a constituent who I met in 2011 as a freshman legislator. She bravely confronted her past but was barred from seeking justice because of our outdated statute of limitations. I promised I would try to help.
Sliney and I — in collaboration with House and Senate leadership — pushed for change. In 2014, the Legislature passed and then-Governor Deval Patrick signed a bill extending the statute of limitations, helping Sliney and many others file claims in their pursuit of justice. Under current state law, child sexual abuse victims can file suits up to age 53, and in cases of repressed memory, adults have seven years after realizing they were abused as children to file claims against abusers. Since then, other states have gone further.
Now it is Massachusetts’ turn again.
Bills currently before the Legislature would make meaningful changes to the outdated laws on the books by eliminating the statute of limitations for child sexual abuse altogether. It’s a necessary step to align state laws with what researchers know about trauma — and to better protect children going forward.
Speaking publicly about my experience is not easy. But silence is what allows abuse and the fear, shame, and doubt it creates to persist. Too often, institutions and individuals rely on that silence, and on the passage of time, to escape accountability.
When the law allows survivors to speak, it does more than offer a path to justice. It exposes patterns and deters harm, and makes our communities safer for everyone.
For me, this is not only about reckoning with the past. It is about the children of today and the adults they will become. It is about ensuring they are not denied justice because trauma kept them silent.
It is about survivors knowing they are not alone.
And it is about holding those who abuse power — and the institutions that enable them — accountable.
No survivor should ever be told their time for justice has run out.