A Predatory Trail, a Futile Pursuit
Priest Questions Motives of Accusers

By Edmund H. Mahony and Dave Altimari
Hartford Courant [Connecticut]
August 11, 2002

On a sunny Saturday in the spring of 1995, the Rev. Felix H. Maguire climbed to the dais of the Hartford Civic Center and urged the 1,700 assembled graduates of Central Connecticut State University to make the world a better place.

Appointed by two governors to the state university system's board of trustees, the wealthy, well-connected priest from the Hartford Archdiocese appeared to be a model of stature and achievement for his fresh-faced audience.

But 40 miles to the south, in a sealed-off New Haven courtroom, a different portrait of Maguire was emerging. There, he was accused of repeatedly sexually molesting a 15-year-old, learning-disabled boy, whose struggling single mother had rented one of the priest's two waterfront homes in Guilford. The civil suit claimed Maguire "visited" the boy after his mother left for work, assuring him that "God would understand."

The jury did not understand. It rendered a $262,803 judgment against Maguire.

In chillingly similar detail, at least four other young men claim to have been sexually abused by Maguire, creating a pattern of alleged predatory behavior by the priest stretching over 27 years and across several parishes, a Courant investigation has found. The complainants were mostly troubled kids, some prone to drug abuse and in need of cash, which several said Maguire provided in return for sex.

Two of them, who passed state police lie-detector tests, claimed Maguire videotaped his sexual encounters with them, and one said the priest frequently associated with a mob-connected pornographer from Middletown who was once investigated by the FBI.

The complaints against Maguire raise questions about the ability, and willingness, of state legal authorities to deal with accusations against an abusive priest. There were several aborted police inquiries over the years, including one that was dropped under questionable circumstances; a sexual assault charge that was eventually erased by the court; and the civil trial in New Haven, which was litigated in extraordinary secrecy.

The allegations — most revealed here for the first time — are by far the most extensive to date against a priest from the Archdiocese of Hartford, which has insisted it is free of the prolonged, serial abuse reported elsewhere. The Courant's investigation found that the archdiocese knew of accusations against Maguire as early as 1984. Yet he was an active priest for at least nine years after that.

Jack Sitarz, an attorney for the archdiocese, said last week that he could not answer specific questions about the Maguire case until Daniel A. Cronin, the archbishop since 1991, returned from an out-of-town trip later this week. He said he believed Maguire has been involved in "no public ministry" since the early 1990s.

Maguire, 76, took a "medical retirement" from the priesthood in 1993 and now lives on a church pension in a ranch house in Stuart, Fla., where he keeps a 3-foot-tall statue of the Virgin Mary in his living room and a bigger, plastic replica of a Budweiser bottle near his bar.

Last month, Maguire, wearing a polo shirt and shorts, spent several hours over two days sitting at his dining room table, vehemently denying every allegation. Alternately angry and nervous, he used surprisingly coarse language to castigate his accusers.

A young man the police say was groped by Maguire was "a dope addict and an alcoholic," he said, while another accuser was a "pathological liar and a moron." The learning-disabled youth who sued him has an "IQ of 78" and "hallucinates." The boy's lawyer is a "faggot."

But investigators familiar with the complaints say Maguire's accusers are credible.

"I've been sitting up here waiting to read about Maguire because he was one of the original operators that no one was ever able to nail. He knew who to choose," said Bruce Pigott, a retired inspector with the New Haven County state's attorney's office. "He was good at picking out people who had criminal records or broken families or drug problems because he knew nobody would believe them."

A state police detective who investigated Maguire remains baffled and embittered by the legal system's inability or unwillingness to stop Maguire.

"I'm proud of my time in the state police, but this was the one time I was ashamed because the state police agreed to let a criminal go," said former Det. Joseph Schaedler. "I never before had been told to not investigate a crime and I never was again."

Early Trouble Signs

Maguire comes from a successful family. Siblings have achieved senior positions in the church, in business and in politics. On the wall in his Florida home he has photographs of two of his brothers, also priests, one shaking hands with President Reagan, the other with the pope.

For years, he owned side-by-side houses that look out over eastern Long Island Sound from Guilford's upscale Mulberry Point. Maguire spent his career in the parishes of the Hartford Archdiocese. He is first listed in church records as a priest assigned to St. Lawrence Church in West Haven in 1961.

That's where Dominic D'Amato said he met Maguire. D'Amato, now a 52-year old South Carolina businessman, went to the St. Lawrence grammar school in the 1960s. By the time he was in his mid-teens, D'Amato said, students were openly discussing having had sex with Maguire.

"When we got out of grammar school and got into high school, rumors started going around," D'Amato said. "When it became common knowledge and everyone knew, he started to call me up at my home. I was 13, 14, maybe 15. He would talk dirty to me on the phone."

Once, when D'Amato was 15, he said, he and a friend accepted an invitation to Maguire's beach house in Guilford. The priest was supposed to be helping D'Amato's friend with an English paper. But it wasn't long, D'Amato said, before Maguire sent his friend on an errand to the store.

"I'm sitting there," he recalled, "and in my head I know what's going to happen."

D'Amato said Maguire produced pornographic magazines and removed his trousers. "He took off my pants," D'Amato said. "I'm like 125 pounds. A skinny little kid. He goes down on me. He's a huge guy. I couldn't get away.

"The very next week I went to confession at Our Lady of Victory at another parish in West Haven. I told the priest what happened. At that stage I'm torn between what's wrong and what's right and the authority figure he was in my life and had always been. The image of him on top of me is burnt into my head. I tell the priest this. He says, 'Come back next week.' That's the last time I ever went to confession."

D'Amato said he never told another adult.

"In 1966? You can't do it," D'Amato said. "Embarrass my family? No way."

After the incident, D'Amato said Maguire telephoned him repeatedly at his parents' home, using the phony name Frank. After a while, D'Amato said, the priest began calling for his younger brother. D'Amato said he intervened.

But D'Amato said the most bizarre aspect of his relationship with Maguire occurred years later, after D'Amato had married. He and his wife had just installed a telephone in their home, and the very first call they received was from Maguire. Alarmed, D'Amato said he told Maguire to not call again.

By then, Maguire had been transferred out of St. Lawrence Church in West Haven.

"My complaint in all this is the church took this guy and moved him around so you couldn't hit the target," D'Amato said. "They harbored a criminal, in my mind. He is a monster."

Maguire surfaced next at St. Pius X Church in Wolcott, where he worked for four years before being sent to establish a new parish, St. John Fisher, in Marlborough. While in that rural community east of the Connecticut River, he also started a youth group, Celebration, and became known for his work with young people.

One of them was Jeffrey Marsden.

Cocktails And Cameras

Marsden said he, too, was about 15 when he met Maguire in 1982. What he remembers most about that initial encounter is the colorful cardigan sweater Maguire wore over his priest's uniform.

Marsden said he was hitchhiking on Route 66 in Marlborough. The priest was driving a two-tone blue car. In a statement he would give two years later to state police, Marsden's description of the car sounded more like a teenager's dream than something off a Detroit assembly line. He said there was a small television set in the dashboard and, beneath it, a mini-bar stocked with rum-and-cokes, screwdrivers and tequila sunrises.

Although there have been minor inconsistencies in accounts Marsden has given of his association with Maguire over the years, the core allegations are laid out in a sworn affidavit he gave to police:

Marsden, who is still small and wiry, said he climbed in to Maguire's car that day in 1982 and began grousing about how tough it was finding work. The priest responded, Marsden said, by offering him some carpentry work. When Maguire identified himself as a priest, Marsden said he agreed to go home with him.

The two were sitting in the priest's living room, talking, when, Marsden said, Maguire offered him a beer. It would be the first can of more than two six packs Marsden drank that afternoon. Without asking, Marsden said, Maguire played two pornographic videotapes — "Urban Cowgirls" and "Debbie Does Dallas."

Marsden said he became aroused and allowed Maguire to perform a sex act on him. Then, he said, they moved into the priest's bedroom, where the priest kept a vibrator and "edible underwear" in his dresser drawer.

"He later drove me home and gave me $40 in cash," Marsden said in the affidavit. "He never told me, but I found it in my wallet when I got home, and I know I didn't have it when he picked me up."

Marsden says the same sequence of events repeated itself the next day, with Maguire again picking him up on Route 66 and taking him to his house, where he gave the teen three rum-and-cokes and two beers. This time, however, there was a new and disturbing twist.

"He said 'I have something you gotta see' and he put on a movie, and I was shocked to see me and Felix having sex on the bed the night before," Marsden said in his affidavit. "I never knew he was taping the session. I found out that he had a camera mounted on a stand in the corner of the computer room."

In the months that followed, Marsden says, he essentially became a prostitute, taking money in return for sex.

Maguire emphatically denies the allegations and calls Marsden a "pathological liar" who has a homosexual obsession with priests. Yet he acknowledges a long acquaintance with Marsden and admits that Marsden was often a guest at his homes in Marlborough and Guilford.

Maguire also acknowledged that, as recently as 1994, he showed up, unannounced, at Marsden's home in Groton to ask why he had sent a letter to the Hartford Archdiocese repeating the allegations he made to police in 1984. Maguire said the archdiocese had told him where to find Marsden and suggested that he have a talk with Marsden.

Perhaps the principal point on which Marsden and Maguire agree is that Marsden, as a teenager, was an enormously troubled young man.

When he was 8 and living in Utah, Marsden watched his mother empty a revolver into his abusive father's chest. When his mother moved back to Norwich, she couldn't support all of Marsden's 13 siblings and stepsiblings, so Marsden wound up in a Marlborough foster home.

He dropped out of high school, ran away from foster homes, was housed in youth shelters and jailed for theft. By early winter in 1983, he was living in a tent in Old Saybrook. He said he was trying to avoid Maguire, but returned repeatedly to the priest when he needed money.

What Marsden said he regrets most is having involved other boys with Maguire.

One of those boys was Robert Bergeron. In his statement to the state police, Bergeron said he met Marsden through an Old Saybrook Bible study class. Marsden was then living in his tent, and Bergeron invited him to move in with him and his mother.

Bergeron, who was 17, told the state police that he remembers Marsden telling him about "a man he knew, someone who would give him money to do things, sexual things." Bergeron gave the following account in his own sworn affidavit:

In early January 1984, while Bergeron and Marsden were at Chucky's Market in Old Saybrook, Marsden called Maguire from a pay phone. The priest met the pair out front and drove them to his house.

At the house, Maguire poured drinks for the boys and played a pornographic movie. Bergeron says he rebuffed an advance from Maguire on that occasion, but a few weeks later, after another round of drinks and a movie, Bergeron complied when Maguire offered him $10 "to rub his penis."

"It only lasted a minute or so," Bergeron later told police. "He gave me the $10. Then, after a short while, he asked me to come into his bedroom and give him [oral sex]. He would give me $25. Before I could react or say anything, Father Maguire told me he would call my mother and tell her what I had just done."

Upset by the threat, Bergeron said he did what Maguire asked. At one point, he recalled, Maguire reached up and flipped an electronic switch above the headboard of the bed, illuminating a tiny, red indicator light. He said Maguire told him it was a device to make the bed warm, although Bergeron said the bed never did get warm.

Afterward, Bergeron left the room in tears, and Maguire gave the boys a ride back to Old Saybrook. Bergeron said he never went back.

Police Investigate

State police Det. Joseph Schaedler was skeptical at first.

It was March 1984, and state troopers had just arrested Marsden and three other boys riding along the shore in a stolen car. But the simple case of auto theft soon took a bizarre turn: Under questioning, Marsden began unfurling a lurid story of sexual misconduct by a Roman Catholic priest named Felix Maguire.

The detective found it hard to accept. Schaedler was a member of St. John Fisher church, where Maguire presided. In fact, Maguire had renewed Schaedler's wedding vows a few months earlier. But the more detectives pursued the case, the more they became convinced the allegations were true.

For starters, Marsden was able to supply police with telephone numbers for Maguire's beach house and the rectory in Marlborough, as well as detailed sketches of their interiors. He included the locations of burglar alarms and a mounted bedroom video camera in his drawing of the Guilford house.

Over the next few months, Marsden and Bergeron, who by then had come forward with his own complaint against Maguire, submitted to extensive interviews and passed state police lie-detector tests. The test results, obtained by The Courant, found that the boys responded truthfully to such questions as whether Maguire videotaped his encounters with Marsden, whether he requested sex for money and whether he threatened to call Bergeron's mother.

Not everything checked out. Marsden named a half-dozen area boys he claimed had visited Maguire's house for sex, but when the detectives interviewed them, with their parents present, all denied it.

Other things were just plain disturbing.

For instance, in his police statements, Marsden said he frequently saw Maguire in the company of George Nightingale. Nightingale was a notorious local figure who ran a Middletown adult bookstore that sold pornographic videos and, for a time, operated peep shows. The Middletown Police Department eventually forced the bookstore to close.

Jailed briefly in the early 1980s for refusing to testify to a federal grand jury investigating a mob-connected pornographer in Providence, Nightingale was once a subject of an FBI child pornography investigation, according to a state police report obtained by The Courant. Nightingale was never charged.

The priest and the pornographer, according to Marsden's police statement, allegedly had sex with other teenage boys at Maguire's house — a claim that the boys later denied when questioned by police.

Early in his interview with The Courant, Maguire denied knowing who Nightingale was. Later, however, after being told he was seen at the porn shop, Maguire changed his story, saying he remembered meeting Nightingale briefly when the two men, then complete strangers, coincidentally arrived together at Middlesex Hospital for blood-sugar screenings, and Nightingale invited him to drop by his business.

"I went into his store and realized it wasn't the type of place that I should be in and left," Maguire said.

Nightingale now lives in Los Angeles. In a recent telephone interview, he said he was so high on drugs and alcohol during the early 1980s that he remembers little of that time and doesn't recall Maguire. He denied having sex with teenage boys.

Eventually, Schaedler and Det. Michael Foley interviewed Maguire at his home. Schaedler recalled that the priest seemed extremely nervous and would not let them into any room but the hallway they were standing in.

After first pledging to cooperate, Maguire changed his mind and said he wanted to consult an attorney. The detectives left, and a week later Maguire came to the Troop K barracks with his lawyer. During the interview, Maguire denied any misconduct and repeatedly called Marsden a "fliar," according to Foley and Schaedler.

Maguire claimed his only interest had been in trying to help Marsden and Bergeron. He said that both boys had been to his house twice, but only for 10 or 20 minutes and that three "talked about nothing in particular and watched TV."

The detectives' report of the interview concluded: "Father Maguire reiterated his feeling that Marsden was a problem child and a pathological liar, and that at no time did he ever have sexual contact with Marsden or his friend Bergeron. Further, that [the police] would be unable to locate even one child from the Marlborough area that would verify what Marsden was claiming."

When the interview ended, Schaedler started typing up a warrant application to search Maguire's church rectory in Marlborough. But he never got a chance to finish it.

Case Closed

Unknown to Schaedler and Foley, their inquiry into Maguire had set off alarm bells in the archdiocese.

In April 1984, then-Archbishop John Whealon asked William Wholean, a church lobbyist and a former executive director of the Connecticut Catholic Conference, to check into it. Wholean called a friend in the state police, who put him in contact with then-state police Lt. Col. John Mulligan. Wholean said Mulligan confirmed that there was, indeed, a criminal investigation of Maguire underway.

Wholean — who kept notes of his conversations during that time — said he immediately delivered the information to the archbishop. A day or so later, Wholean said he saw Maguire in diocesan headquarters in Hartford and later asked Whealon how the matter was being resolved.

Wholean said the archbishop brusquely told him to mind his own business, that the matter was not a concern of the Catholic conference.

What happened next continues to be the subject of dispute and bitterness among law enforcement officers: The detectives were told to drop their investigation of Maguire. When Foley continued to work on the case secretly, a superior admonished him. The reason the detectives were ordered off the case remains a mystery.

Current state police commanders say they have no way of reconstructing events that led to the decision to close the investigation because the case file would have been destroyed, a routine action, years ago. But a copy of the file on Maguire, obtained by The Courant, contains a possible clue.

A terse August 1984 entry in the file reports that an unnamed New Haven prosecutor had refused to authorize a warrant for Maguire's arrest in the Bergeron case. Immediately beneath the August entry is another, dated a month later, that says: "Status report for this complaint is being changed to suspended based upon developments in the case."

Some police sources suggest that the prosecutors had problems with the credibility of the witnesses against Maguire — namely Marsden and Bergeron. Michael Dearington, the current state's attorney for New Haven County, said he has no recollection of the Maguire case.

Also, a former associate of Maguire's from that time, who did not want to be identified, said the decision on whether to pursue charges may have been influenced by Maguire's alleged agreement to seek counseling and transfer out of his Marlborough parish if the state police dropped the case. Maguire denies agreeing to treatment, and state police officials say they do not recall such a scenario.

Not in dispute is that the archdiocese soon transferred Maguire to another parish, this one clear across the diocese in St. Mary's Church in Derby. Not long afterwards, Maguire met a learning-disabled boy named Michael Gerlander.

'God Would Understand'

Guilford police Officer Mike Dennison, the department's youth officer, grew up in Maguire's Mulberry Point neighborhood and knew the priest as "Father Bud," for his apparent fondness for Budweiser beer. Dennison said his parents always warned him not to stop at Father Bud's house when he was delivering newspapers.

Dennison became involved with Maguire in November 1986, when Michael Gerlander's parents filed a complaint that Maguire had molested their son while the family was living in Maguire's second house on Mulberry Point.

Dennison said Maguire allegedly told Gerlander, who was 15 at the time, that "God would understand" or "God said it was OK" for them to have sex. Dennison twice applied for arrest warrants in the Gerlander case and both times was denied. Gerlander, who is learning disabled, had a hard time telling the same story twice.

"It was one witness, who had problems, against the word of a priest, and back then who are you going to believe?" Dennison asked, adding he never doubted Gerlander.

"What convinced me was the similarity between his story and the victim in the state police case," Dennison said. "I was amazed how similar the pattern was, right down to the words he used and the references to the Bible."

When his attempts to get an arrest warrant failed, Dennison dropped the case. Guilford police didn't have anything else to do with Maguire until January 1993, when Joseph Russo walked into the police station at 2 a.m. one day, claiming Maguire tried to molest him at the priest's home.

The 25-year-old Russo — who has since died in a car accident — had met Maguire at a Narcotics Anonymous meeting at St. Teresa's Church in North Haven. Maguire was already familiar with Russo's family because Russo's mother, Jeann Terrazzano, was Maguire's estate attorney at the time.

Because Terrazzano knew Maguire, she didn't mind when he told her he was going to take the boy under his wing. She said Russo hung out with Maguire for about a year before the night he came home upset, saying he had been at Maguire's house and the priest had gotten him drunk and tried to molest him while they were watching a pornographic movie.

"My son did a lot of things wrong and he had a terrible drug problem, but one thing he was not was a liar," Terrazzano said. She drove her son to the police station to file a complaint.

A few days later, Dennison knocked on Maguire's door with a search warrant. Police found more than 20 pornographic tapes inside a safe next to Maguire's bed — tapes Maguire claimed were planted there by the officers.

Maguire was charged with fourth-degree sexual assault for groping Russo — the only time he was ever criminally charged.

Prosecutors were hobbled because Russo decided he did not want to testify. Maguire ended up agreeing to a plea deal, called accelerated rehabilitation, which expunged the arrest for sexual contact from his record after a period of probation.

"I can sit here today and tell you that I have no criminal record and not be lying," said Maguire, who maintains his innocence in the Russo case.

In addition to coinciding with his decision to take a "medical retirement," Maguire's arrest and the attendant publicity convinced Gerlander's family — who had earlier failed to get criminal charges brought against Maguire — to pursue a civil suit instead. The lawsuit was filed in January 1993 and was quickly sealed, per a request by Gerlander's attorney, and it remained sealed for four more years.

The sealing of lawsuits against priests was common, particularly when it came to trying to protect the identity of the accuser. What makes the Gerlander case unusual is that not only was the lawsuit sealed, but the trial was kept closed to the public by Judge Linda Lager.

Maguire testified that the Gerlanders made the whole story up in retaliation for him wanting to evict them for not paying the rent. The jury didn't believe it, and awarded Gerlander $262,803.

The amount was later reduced as part of a confidential settlement to keep Maguire from appealing the verdict. Lager unsealed the file shortly after the verdict, a ruling opposed by Maguire's lawyer. But by then, few people even knew that Maguire had been sued, let alone that a trial had been held.

Mark Hamilton, Gerlander's stepfather, said he was shocked to learn recently that Maguire is still being paid a pension by the Hartford archdiocese.

"I looked that guy in the eye and what I saw was a scary individual," Hamilton said. "This guy should have been locked up a long time ago and instead they are still paying him. That's just incredible."

The Trail Of Rev. Felix H. Maguire

1961-1967 — Maguire is at St. Lawrence Church in West Haven, which has a school attached to it. Dominic D'Amato, a former student, later says Maguire molested him during that time, after asking D'Amato to do some chores at the priest's Guilford house.

1968 — Maguire is transferred to St. Pius X Church in Wolcott.

1975 — Maguire becomes the first pastor at the newly established St. John's Fisher Church in Marlborough.

1982 — Jeffrey Marsden, 15, is hitchhiking in Marlborough when Maguire offers him a ride back to the priest's rectory. There, Marsden says, Maguire gets him drunk and the two have sex, which Maguire allegedly videotapes. Marsden claims to have other sexual encounters over the next two years with Maguire and others, including George Nightingale, a Middletown porn shop owner who Marsden says was an associate of Maguire. Maguire and Nightingale deny it.

January 1984 — Robert Bergeron, a teenage friend of Marsden, accompanies Marsden to Maguire's house, where he says the priest asks him to perform a sex act. Bergeron says he initially refuses, but agrees after Maguire threatens to tell Bergeron's mother that he is gay.

March 1984 — Marsden is arrested for stealing a car and he gives state police Maguire's home phone number as his own. Under questioning, he tells detectives of his relationship with Maguire. State police begin an investigation.

April 1984 — Hartford Archbishop John F. Whealon instructs a church lobbyist to contact state police to check out rumors that Maguire is being investigated. Police confirm it. Maguire and his attorney meet with police detectives. Maguire denies the charges and repeatedly calls Marsden a liar. Detectives prepare a search warrant for the church home in Marlborough but are ordered by superiors to drop the investigation.

May 1984 — Maguire is transferred to St. Mary's Church in Derby. At his farewell Mass in Marlborough, no mention is made of the allegations, and on the church program Maguire states: "All I ask of you is forever to remember me as loving you."

June 1986 — Michael Gerlander's family rents a house from Maguire on Mulberry Point Road in Guilford after responding to a classified ad in the local newspaper. The 15-year-old boy alleges Maguire abused him when his parents were away, telling him "God would understand" what they were doing. Gerlander later tells his family, and they complain to police. Maguire denies it, and says the family has a vendetta against him because he evicted them.

Early 1987 — Guilford police apply for an arrest warrant in the Gerlander case and are refused by New Haven prosecutors.

1988 — Maguire is transferred to St. Theresa's Church in North Haven, his last official assignment.

January 1993 — Maguire is arrested on fourth-degree sexual assault for an incident involving Joseph Russo, 25, who claims Maguire got him drunk in the Mulberry Point house, showed him porn movies and grabbed his groin. Guilford police search the house and report finding more than 20 pornographic tapes in a safe near Maguire's bed. Maguire eventually accepts a deal that clears his record after a probationary period.

June 1993 — Gerlander files a lawsuit against Maguire in New Haven Superior Court. Maguire discontinues full-time parish work, although he fills in periodically for priests in shoreline communities and works at a missionary affiliated with the St. George's Church in Guilford.

1994 — Archbishop Daniel Cronin informs Maguire that he is no longer to say Mass or wear the collar. Maguire is diagnosed with colon cancer and takes a medical retirement.

April 1997 — A New Haven jury finds that Maguire molested Gerlander and awards Gerlander $262,803, an amount that is later lowered as part of a settlement between two sides.

April 2001 — Maguire moves to Stuart, Fla., and buys a house for $215,700. Within a few months, Maguire receives a letter from Cronin reminding him not to participate in any priestly duties.

Sex And Videotape

From state police report of interview with Jeffrey Marsden in March 1984

"Father Maguire gave him some beer, about 12 to 15 cans, enough to get him drunk and they watched a video recorder showing triple-x rated movies showing people engaged in nude sex. Marsden said he got an erection, which was noticed by the priest. He told him to pull his pants down, he kneeled down and performed oral sex on him. Marsden claims they moved to the bedroom..."

"The very next day ... Father Maguire told him, 'I've got something you gotta see,' and he put on a video movie showing himself and Marsden engaged in sex from the day before. Marsden said there is a camera mounted on a stand in the corner next to the computer room but he wasn't aware their session was being taped."

Dominic D'Amato,

on his reaction to an alleged sexual encounter with Felix Maguire

"I went to confession at Our Lady of Victory at another parish in West Haven. I told the priest what happened. At that stage I'm torn between what's wrong and what's right and the authority figure he was in my life and had always been. The image of him on top of me is burnt into my head. I tell the priest this. He says, 'Come back next week.' That's the last time I ever went to confession."


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