October 21, 2009
The Times
Raped and infected with gonorrhoea when she was just 8 years old, then shortly afterwards, seized and sentenced to eight years in a children’s institute run by sadistic nuns, Kathleen O’Malley has spent most of her life hiding from herself. But having emerged stronger from her horrific childhood she has set herself a new challenge: to find the sister who suffered with her.
The facts of Kathleen O’Malley’s life would probably not have been believed ten years ago, not before the dam finally burst on the Roman Catholic Church in Ireland.
A long-awaited report into clerical abuse in the Diocese of Dublin is expected to be published this week and bishops are bracing themselves for another round of public anger. It will be a horror story of how known paedophile priests were shunted from parish to parish by their religious seniors. The number of children who suffered as a result of the Church’s cover-up could run into thousands.
It will also be another shattering blow to the moral authority of an institution that once ruled Ireland with an iron rod, following hard on the heels of the Ryan report, an independent tribunal that concluded in May after a decade of evidence-gathering that there had been “endemic and systemic” sexual, physical and emotional abuse of hundreds of thousands of Irish children in residential institutions run by religious orders. Four years ago, when Kathleen first told her story in her memoir, Childhood Interrupted, there were plenty of cynics around who were prepared to cast doubt on the extraordinary tale of suffering inside a system that seemed akin to the worst excesses of a totalitarian regime.
But a sea-change has occurred in Ireland since the Ryan report: the anger still swirls and will gather strength again this week with the publication of another report.
The proof of Kathleen’s claims is laid out before her on a coffee table in her smart detached Hertfordshire bungalow: pages and pages of official reports whose secrecy was not easily given up by the Irish authorities.
Two legal documents are chilling. The first is the peremptory record of how Kathleen, with her her sisters, Sarah Louise and Lydia, were taken from their mother in a dawn raid on their Dublin tenement home and found guilty in the children’s court of being “destitute” and “having a parent who does not exercise proper guardianship”. The second is a transcript of the trial of Luke McCabe, a neighbour who raped Kathleen in 1950. It’s extraordinary to read the words of a child being cross-examined by Judge McCarthy in open court: “Do you know what would happen if you told lies?”
Answer: “The Lord would light me.” Looking back, reading those words on the page, Kathleen can laugh now. “I meant I’d get a beating; it was all I knew. But look here, when he asks if I’d been taught the Catechism and knew the difference between right and wrong. I said my mother had taught me. But he ignores that answer and asks if the Sisters of Mercy had taught me. Because I was born out of wedlock she and her child counted for nothing in their eyes.
“The people who took us from Mummy were paid a bounty by the religious orders because the nuns in turn received half a man’s wage per week for every child they took. It was a business. They called us destitute and uncared for, but that’s what they condemned us to — we were loved and cared for, but they took us away and, to rub salt in the wounds, Mummy was forced to pay for it. She had to pay for our upkeep at Moate, the industrial school.”
But the court transcript also reveals glimpses of a strong-willed mother determined to fight for her children. Mary O’Malley told the court that in the eight months that had passed since Kathleen had been taken from her, the nuns had “told her not to tell anybody about the dirty thing that was done to her”.
Although the judge directed the jury to acquit McCabe of the most serious charge of “unlawful carnal knowledge of a minor”, he was found guilty of assault. It was a small but important victory for the O’Malleys. “McCabe got 18 months hard labour but my sisters and I got 25 years of that between us,” Kathleen says.
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“I am a very different person now to who I was even five years ago. I remember feeling physically sick when I bumped into someone I was in Moate with. That’s how we were taught to react by the nuns.
“I was ashamed of my name. I remember Sister Cecilia saying ‘I wouldn’t tell anybody who you are or where you’re from’. And they did prepare us for our roles in life as they saw them, which was scrubbing floors. But I don’t care any more. I have nothing to hide.”
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