Category: Activism

  • The Puppet Show: The Utter Failure of Diocese Lay Review Boards

    Last week in Kansas City-St. Joseph, the diocese lay review board was called to meet by the bishop to “discuss” recent events involving the sexual abuse of children. Too bad the board got wind of things a few years too late.

    For those of you who don’t know, Fr. Sean Ratigan was arrested in late May for possession of hundreds of child sex abuse (child porn) images that he took of parish girls. According to a lawsuit filed last week, he uploaded and distributed those photos on the internet.

    Bishop William Finn found out about the images in November 2010. Instead of calling the police, he made copies of the images (a federal crime, no?) and then gave Ratigan’s computer to Ratigan’s family, who destroyed it.

    The diocese’s own document trail shows that the Bishop Finn was warned about Ratigan’s behavior at least a year ago, and possibly as long ago as 2007.

    So when the Kansas City-St. Joesph diocese lay review board came together to meet just last week, one would think that they would demand some transparency, perhaps even publicly state that Finn be held accountable for his inaction and cover-up. Maybe call on him to turn over all files on Ratigan and other predators in the diocese. They should be angry, right?

    Not so much.

    Instead, the meeting resulted with the removal of a different priest who has been accused of abuse by at least three children and is the subject of a 2010 child sex abuse lawsuit.  This was a priest who should have been removed a long, long time ago. Instead, he was allowed to remain in ministry a year after the lawsuit was filed.

    What’s going on here?

    Bishop Finn’s actions in these cases are akin to calling the fire department well after the house has already burned to the ground. But instead of demanding accountability, Kansas City-St. Joseph’s lay review board accepted an apology, quietly obeyed and thanked the bishop for the courtesy call.

    An anomaly? Hardly. This case is spectacularly indicative of the uselessness and powerlessness of diocesan lay review boards. Acting as a bishop’s puppet show, they give the false air of transparency. Behind the scenes, it’s business as usual: cover-up, complicity and abuse.

    I know this because as a former lay review board member in Orange, California, and a victim of sexual abuse in the Catholic Church, I have seen it all firsthand.

    Not an Isolated Case

    Review boards across the country are coming under increased scrutiny as they are called to review cases well after the public and private damage has occurred, as well as for their refusal to be strong, critical and vocal advocates for the children they claim to serve.

    In Gallup, NM, the board has been dormant for months, perhaps years.  Although The Gallup Independent exposed dozens of secret settlements with victims, no board members have publicly come forward to demand information about abusers, secret files or settlements.

    In Philadelphia, the board was thrown under the bus when a grand jury report found that 37 priests in ministry had allegations of abuse.  The board knew nothing of many of the cases. Instead of demanding fundamental change, board members criticized Rigali, but praised the changes in the Archdiocese since 2005 and have justified their role in preventing abuse.

    In Stockton, California, a judge has found that there is enough evidence for a civil sex abuse trial to proceed against Fr. Michael Kelly this summer. Stockton Bishop Stephen Blaire, however, has said that his review board has determined that Kelly is innocent and the priest remains in ministry.  Wouldn’t any prudent board demand that Kelly be put on administrative leave until the trial was over?

    In Fresno, a priest who was found by a civil jury to have molested a child remains in ministry in a parish.  Bishop John T. Steinbock said that Eric Swearingen is innocent.  Does his board agree? Why hasn’t the board publicly criticized the (recently deceased) bishop for this?

    We will never know.

    How Are These Boards Set Up?

    The Charter for the Protection of Children and Young People – a 2002 “reform” that has shown its flaws repeatedly during the past nine years – has carefully and meticulously ensured that lay review boards remain at the whim of the bishop.

    Review boards are made up of former law enforcement officials, therapists, community members, child advocates and others who really care about the welfare of kids.  Many serving on the boards are mandatory reporters. But as a “consultative board” to the bishop, the bishop may use them at his discretion.  He doesn’t have to give them information. He is not mandated to tell them about allegations. He is not required to turn over secret personnel files. If the board recommends that a priest be removed, the bishop is not required to do so.

    So why have a board at all?

    The answer is simple: to provide a false veneer of legitimacy allowing bishops to continue business as usual.

    But that can change.

    The Fuse Has Been Lit

    It’s only a matter of time before we see more and more cases like Ratigan’s and the Archdiocese of Philadelphia. The failures of the John Jay Report and annual diocesan audits are blatantly clear. The Catholic laity is seeing, yet again, that their children were intentionally put at risk of abuse, while the local lay review board assigned to protect kids remained silent.

    Lay review boards are ineffective as long as their membership refuses to publicly demand transparency. As long as board members sit and wait obediently and silently for their bishop to do the right thing – or assume that they have all of the material necessary to make informed decisions – more children will be put at risk.

    To become effective, the boards must understand their mission. The obligation of the boards is NOT to the bishop. The true obligation of every lay review board is to the CHILDREN of the diocese and the VICTIMS who were so horribly hurt.  Once they actually understand their obligation and responsibility, suddenly, their requirement to speak out becomes painfully apparent.

    I challenge every lay review board member to demand transparency and accountability from their bishop.  I urge them to demand legal documents, depositions, evidence and secret personnel files for EVERY priest in the diocese. I challenge them to become vocal advocates for change.

    Instead of being a liability and a puppet of their bishops, these boards must become proactive advocates for the children they claim to serve.

    Until then, men like Ratigan and the bishops who cover-up for them will continue to destroy our children, just like they have in Kansas City-St. Joseph.

     

  • What’s in a name?

    I got the first call from a friend with the statement I have been dreading:

    “I don’t like the name of your blog.  I think it will turn people off.”

    It was only a matter of time before anyone said anything.  Fortunately, my friend made sure to be as nice and tactful as possible.  Plus, he’s a mega-smart guy, a fellow blogger, and someone whom I respect greatly.

    He was also smart enough to shower me with compliments before he dropped the bomb.  I’m a sucker for a compliment: if you tell me that I look thin or that I’m having a good hair day, I’m your slave.

    I told him I would take his good counsel into consideration.  And I have.  A lot.

    My conclusion:  The name stays.

    I have spent my career as an advocate “pushing the envelope” of people’s thinking in order to help get justice for victims and protect kids.  Because of who I am and what I stand for, I force people to (sometimes unwillingly) look very, very closely at the abuses of the religious institution in which they have invested their lives, their marriages and their children.  What I have to tell them is not pretty, but I have always been honest, always been sincere, and always tried to maintain a somewhat healthy attitude.  Because of hundreds of people like me around the world, things are changing – for the better.

    Honestly, I don’t think I have ever used the word “puke” in a sentence more than two or three times in my life.  But in this case, it works.  Hopefully, it will make people think.  I already know it makes some people laugh.

    And really, that’s why I’m doing this.  With anger, we get nowhere.  But if we have smiles on our faces, we can change the world (or at least stop crying for a while).

    Puke is not pretty. But it can be funny.  Just like parenting.

    The Pope?  Well, I think that we are seeing that “making Joelle puke” is the least of his crimes.

    Even the NYT is picking it up (a little late, as Kathy Shaw and I know ….).  You can read my response/statement here.

  • The Perfectionist and The Poop

    A popular question I get from journalists is: “What is the hardest thing you have ever done?”

    They expect an answer like “coming forward publicly about my story,” “doing press conferences,” “fighting church leaders who called me a liar,” “grappling with my parents about the abuse,“ “Filing my lawsuit,” etc.

    Usually, I give them an answer along those lines, because it’s mostly correct.

    But this blog is about the truth, so I am going to be honest:

    The hardest thing I have ever had to do – BAR NONE – was potty train my son. Period.

    A year of my life was dominated by a perfectionist’s life-and-death struggle with poop, poop prediction, and eventual poop containment.  The result?  Insanity.

    In an earlier post, I mentioned that I am a perfectionist. When I do something, I have to do it right, or I won’t do it at all. Unfortunately, that also means that I was the kid in kindergarten who cried when she colored outside the lines. Pair that a total lack of control over the bowels of a toddler, and you have my own personal hell. It was the Joelle version of Sartre’s “No Exit.”  Me, the poop and the potty.  No exit, no compromise, no hope …

    Through an innocent question on Facebook, I found out that potty training is one of those flamin’ hot parenting topics like breast-feeding, car seats and public education.  Opinions and judgments swarm like flies.  (It reminded me of my favorite cliché: opinions are like assholes, everyone has one and they all stink.)

    So, I did my best. I tried positive reinforcement.  I used a doll as an example.  I bought three different potties.  I sent him to play with friends who used the potty.

    And I failed miserably.

    I found poop on the floor.  I found a poop on the counter.  I found a poop in a suitcase.   And of course, I bought toddler underwear by the gross (pun intended).

    Wee wee was just as bad.  No matter how many times I asked if he had to go, the answer was always no.  Then, the second I turned around, I heard a sound which harkened back to the days of horseback riding.  Bounceback spray and all.

    I was slowly coming unglued.

    Fortunately, wee wee wrestling was eventually put under control.  In fact, I knew I had won that little battle the day I was forced to bring Nicholas to a clergy abuse press conference with me.  Since I was a spokesman and he was still little, I held him.  While the victim in the case was taking questions about his abuse, I noticed Nicholas began to lean into the bank of microphones.

    The rest happened in slow motion.

    Calmy and clearly, he announced, “I have to go wee wee.”

    Instantly, every parent in the media pool broke into spontaneous applause.  One even shouted, “You are such a good boy!”

    The rest looked at us dumbfounded.  But I didn’t care. For a brief moment, victory was mine.

    (We were also lucky that the brave victim in the case didn’t mind being upstaged.  He had a nephew he was helping to potty train.  He was a part of the brotherhood)

    However, the battle of the poop still raged.

    Time was ticking.  Nicholas was about to enter preschool: the land “where no poop shall touch the pants.”  By the time the first day of school rolled around, I was defeated.  Desperation forced my bargain: “I don’t care where you poop, “ I told him on the first day of school.  “Just do not poop in your pants at school.  You can hold it right?”

    He assured me he would.

    It lasted about two weeks.

    Then I was subject to looks of pity from teachers when I picked him up.  Even the little girl down the street gave me the play-by-play of EXACTLY what Nicholas was doing in class every time he got the special “far-away glance” and let it all go.

    By Thanksgiving, Nicholas was suspended.

    The day the teacher told me that he had to stay home. I did what any solid perfectionist would do in that situation:  I cried.  Right there in front of Miss Connie and a gaggle of three-year-olds.  A couple of kids hugged me and said, “It’s okay, Nicholas’ mommy.  He’ll poop on the potty someday.”

    Someday …

    “I can guarantee that he will not wear a diaper when he leaves for college.” Mike told me in an attempt to keep me from killing myself.  Great, I thought.  I guess that the 16-year-old who craps his pants also doesn’t run the risk of knocking up the head cheerleader.  So, I’ve got that going for me.

    Then a funny thing happened.

    A few days before Christmas, Nicholas was playing with his cars when he got “that look” on his face.  Then, he stood up and walked to the bathroom.  Avoiding the comprehensive selection of potties, he lifted the lid of the adult toilet, sat down, and … pooped.  In the toilet.  Then he flushed it.

    I leaned against the doorjamb to keep from passing out.  Noticing my shock, he looked at me sweetly and said:

    “I only poop on the big potty.  I can reach it now.”

    He’s a perfectionist.  I’m doomed.