PREYING ON THE INNOCENT
A fall from
I worshipped my twin brother – but he wasn’t as godly as he seemed Margaret Harrod, 63
WORDS: SUE SMETHURST, FRANCES LEATE. PHOTOS: SUE SMETHURST
I
watched as my mum Coral, 65, and dad Richard, 77, beamed proudly at my twin brother, Michael, then 31. Making his way to the altar to be ordained as a priest, he was dressed in long, black robes and a clerical collar. The picture of purity. It was March 1987, and the lavish ceremony in our local church was a proud moment for all my family. After the service, I gave my brother a big hug. From the moment we were born, Michael and I were as thick as thieves. Like many twins, we shared a deep connection. We even had our own language – one nobody but us could understand. From birth to our teens, we were inseparable. At school, we sat side by side, had the same mates. But Michael was always my best friend of all. We shared a faith – and in our twenties, we both decided that we’d follow a spiritual path. I became a nun, and Michael a priest. But then, for the first time ever, we started to live separate lives. Me in the convent, Michael teaching at a prestigious college. He was quickly promoted to Deputy Principal and was popular among his students. He’d buy them treats from the canteen and spend his lunchtimes with them
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in the playground. One day, Michael came home with a student in tow. ‘He wouldn’t get a holiday otherwise,’ Michael shrugged, explaining to Mum and Dad that the 11-year-old lad’s family were very poor. ‘That’s very generous of you,’ Mum smiled. Only, as I watched Michael stroke the boy’s arm, I felt my stomach churn. Something isn’t right... But I pushed the thought to the back of my mind. My brother’s just being kind and caring. Isn’t he..? Any thoughts of him having a sinister motive were soon forgotten. By then, I’d left the convent and had married Rod, 34. We went on to have our son Jason in 1988, and then our
daughter Nicola in 1989. I’d see Michael during the school holidays, always with another one of his young students by his side. That familiar, uneasy feeling would sometimes return, but I convinced myself that my mind was playing tricks on me. But in July 2004, there was a bombshell. Michael was on the front page of a newspaper. The headline read Priest Faces Abuse Claim. A former student of Michael’s had come forward with allegations of sexual assault. It was like a lightning bolt through my heart, and I knew that Michael’s accuser was telling the truth. Suddenly, my mind flashed back to all the times I’d seen Michael touch his students. He’d stroke their arm or put
My brother was just being kind and caring. Wasn’t he..?
Our 21st birthday
We had a special bond
Dad and Mum: so proud of us
his hand on their leg. I remembered one day, long in the past, when Michael and I were visiting a parish family together, and he encouraged their young daughter to sit on his knee. He was directly opposite me and I could see him rubbing her belly. At the time, I’d thought it was odd, but now the memory of it made me feel physically sick. Shell-shocked, I confronted Michael. ‘Michael, I’m your sister and I love you, but I want to know what happened,’ I begged him. I was praying this was all a terrible mistake, but he wouldn’t answer me. He sat staring at the TV, stony-faced, in silence. I vowed never to speak to Michael again after that. And I knew I had to tell the Church what I
