I slept in this morning. Far from my usual custom of waking at 7 am, I stayed in bed until noon. We had a bit of snow and sleet resulting in icy roads that closed schools and colleges today so I was relieved of my guilt. I turned on the local midday news to find out that a list of 63 Catholic priests, some deceased, had been released dating back to 1940 retelling their stories of abusing children. I cried—out loud. I wept, for the many children who lived with the pain and misplaced blame of their torturous ordeal and the continued suffering of the untold numbers in the shadows of their own fear and isolation.
It was more than that…
…because in 1983 when my oldest son was 9 years old, he came into contact with a former priest named Timothy Slevin. Slevin was convicted in 1986 of sexually abusing children stemming from an incident with another boy in the same year he met my son, 1983. My son is musically gifted and plays a number of instruments, he did well academically and was enrolled in a summer and weekend program for higher achieving students. I realize now that my anger was personal.
My oldest son has grown from a fun-loving boy into a gregarious man. He is smart, works hard plays trumpet professionally in his spare time and I love him dearly. When my son attended the gifted kids’ program, Slevin was a basketball coach at Sacred Heart Catholic School in Washington, D.C., just blocks away from my home at the time. My son also had a big interest in basketball, he loved Bird and Magic. He spent hours playing one of the first video games featuring the two stars. I remember him and his brother screaming, “ in your face” while furiously pushing buttons controlling their chosen player, as they watched the grainy and blurry pixelated images on the tv screen.
I met former Father Slevin accompanied by my sons’ mother. We thought he was sincere and thoughtful, we were completely taken in. Later I would think, what chance did a child have? He offered to give my son lessons in basketball at his home and even spend weekends with other boys there he was coaching. We were thrilled someone was taking interest, especially someone our son thought was the “greatest.” Every Thursday for weeks we got a call from Father Slevin extending the weekend private basketball lessons invitation. Week after week something stopped us from accepting, a family outing, time spent with his aunt or just family time I cherished spending with my boys on my alternating weekends off.
I wish I could say my wife or I had inklings of something being wrong or felt a sense of dread but to the contrary, we would often apologize to both Father Slevin and my son for the constant cancellations.
Three years later I leaped to my feet pointing and screaming. I was watching tv and saw that Father Timothy Slevin had been convicted and sentenced to 3 to 9 years in prison, he had confessed to child rape. I know that a child molester comes in all shapes, sizes, and religions but whenever I see a story of a Catholic Priest those old feelings of how close my son came to disaster and being taken in by a smile and sermon-like rhetoric returns. I have looked into my son’s eyes many times after that period and said silently, “Thank God!” I spoke with my son today and he was amazed at how vividly I remember the incident. I wanted his permission to write about his close call and he said, ‘Of course Dad, it may help.”