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From 8.30am until 3.00pm you place your much loved tin lids in the care of the school that the law demands you send them to each day.

You trust that the good folk in charge of school will take care of the young tyke or tykes, and send them home to you in the same condition in which you sent them off to the prescribed educational institution that morning.

99 times out of a hundred they do too.

But if you and yours are unlucky enough to me part of that 1% who suffer harm in what should be a sanctuary of safety your world turns completely upside down, even though it may take you years, or even decades, to understand how and why.

When you find out about what happened to your small and vulnerable child you expect the person in charge of their school to take decisive action. You don’t envisage that they will lie about the lewd acts that were thrust upon your loved one, and you don’t believe that the head honcho to whom you hand over your had-earned in the form of school fees will look you in the eye and lie about what he knows, particularly when the chap is a holier-than-thou pontificating pious Christian. Or claims to be anyway.

Of course you are merely delusional, or more correctly, have been deceived and deluded by demons posing as preaching Principals who care not a jot for you or your kids, but rather only for their own reputation, social and professional standing, and the satisfaction of their sick personal sexual perversions.

Welcome to the warped, whacko world of Gilbert Case and St Paul’s School at Bald Hills, Brisbane, circa 1980 – 2002.

You’ve read above what he told the parents of the kids at the school in 1997.

It was of course nothing but lies.

This is the truth.

God have mercy on his cancerous soul.

Or perhaps not, for surely no one deserves God’s mercy less than Gilbert Case.

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