Have you ever in your lifetime heard of a church hiding the death of a priest from its followers, and concealing it from the world at large?
Have you ever known a church not to publish a funeral notice for an ordained preacher man who wore its collar for a half a century and more?
Have you ever imagined that a church would bury a priest in secrecy and silence and not invite those outside his parish to come and weep and pray over his grave?
You have now.
The Anglican Church is burying Thomas Treherne with full Christian Rites and in consecrated ground next week even though his actions in not alerting the authorities to the pedophile cover ups of the St Paul’s School Principal Gilbert Case are directly responsible for that grub soon after being able to jack up a job for the monster who was his mate Kevin Lynch.
If Treherne the Priest had reported Case’s cover up Lynch would not have been able to send 12 young boys to an early grave, and ruin the lives of hundreds and hundreds of others.
Treherne is to blame for Lynch and everything that followed, make no mistake whatsoever about that.
The s*ck c*nts even shared a kettle.
Sexual abuse happens in the shadows and feeds off silence.
The only way to drag the demonic crimes and the criminals who commit them out from under their rocks and into the burning light of the public gaze is for victims like me to speak out.
We don’t want to stand up and tell the world that grown men s*cked our dicks and stuck needles into them, or that they rolled us over and f*cked us in the arse.
We don’t do it for attention or because it’s fun, because it’s not..
We do it because we have to.
We don’t this want this to happen to any other kid ever.
We want it to stop, and we want it to stop now.
So we speak.
And the person organising the funeral of the piece of sh*t who was supposed to be a priest and let the devil rampage through our sacred houses calls me a f*cking dog.
The Anglican Church calls me a f*cking dog.
They call every victim f*cking dogs.
It’s not often I am left speechless, but today I just can’t find any words; my mind’s shut itself down to hide from the horror, just like I did all those so many years ago, and all I can do is cry and feel pain and sheer abject utter despair.
I’m a dog.
Its my fault.
I guess it always was.