Coming from an evangelical background, I have always been familiar with the concept of ‘being a witness’. It meant witnessing to the gospel, sharing your faith in Jesus.
A few years ago I found myself a witness of a different sort. Soon after my mentor and former vicar Gordon Rideout was arrested on charges of child sexual abuse, I remembered a few things he’d said which at the time had seemed a little odd, but which I hadn’t considered important. This began to weigh on my mind, so I rang the NSPCC helpline which had been set up when his arrest was announced. I was really hoping they’d agree that these comments weren’t significant. Instead, they said they thought the police would be interested – and, with my consent, put me through to one of the officers on the case. That was the start of a 15-month process.
There were several phone calls with investigating officers of Operation Piper. Then, the week after Easter, a detective drove up from Sussex to interview me. DC Harris is an expert interviewer and a practicing Christian (and had some interesting reflections on the Gospels as eyewitness accounts). The interview lasted four gruelling hours. DC Harris was courteous and sympathetic, but he was going to get every last scrap of information I could give him – and rightly so. It was a bit like having brain surgery.
Gordon was the first person I had told of my childhood abuse, and he followed this up by a series of sessions of ‘pastoral counselling’, in which he had asked me every detail of the abuse. Much of the information I had to give the police concerned what Gordon had said and done in these counselling sessions. Remembering this was doubly traumatic: not only did it mean retelling for a police statement the original abuse; but in doing so I began to realise the extent of Gordon’s betrayal of me and the harm he had done me. And this was a man to whom I owed much of my spiritual formation as an Anglican. It was devastating.
Worse, I faced the prospect of having to repeat all this in court. I asked for anonymity, but worried how I would explain my absence to my parish. I had taken on a challenging post on the understanding that the diocese would support me, but the reality had been worse than any of us expected, and support less effective than I had hoped. An unexplained absence, possibly at short notice and an inconvenient time in parish life, was an additional complication I could do without. And if there was a leak about the nature of my evidence – I just couldn’t contemplate that.
I told my churchwardens and archdeacon in confidence that I was a witness in a major child abuse case. To their credit, the news did not leak out. The archdeacon, however, pressed me repeatedly over a period of time as to the nature of my evidence. I told him that as the case was sub judice I couldn’t discuss it, but he made it clear that he was not satisfied.
I contacted the diocesan pastoral adviser, who arranged for a counsellor to support me through the process. This was valuable and I don’t know what I would have done without it. However, I also needed my line managers to take off some of the pressure in the parish, and this didn’t happen.
The months dragged on, with the police coming back to me now and then with further questions. The pressure was enormous. A few weeks before the trial I was told that I would not be required to appear in court, which was a big relief. However, I was advised that this might change so I couldn’t really relax.
Then came the trial itself, and the evidence of the victims. It was appalling. I had somehow assumed that although Gordon faced 36 counts of child sexual abuse, the assaults had not been very serious. Maybe I was just trying to convince myself. Instead, it emerged that, especially during his time as chaplain at Barnardo’s children’s home, Gordon had behaved with a cruelty bordering on sadism. Moreover, he had told the children that the abuse was part of his ministry. He told one vulnerable young girl that his genitals were ‘the hand of God’. How do you cope with the knowledge that your spiritual mentor has been capable of such a blasphemy?
I began to regret that I had not been asked to testify in court, simply to demonstrate to those brave victims that there were clergy who were on their side against this terrible evil.
And all the time, with reports of the trial on the news daily, I was having to carry out my parish ministry as if nothing were wrong. The day the trial ended, with a guilty verdict, I was en route to a remote holiday without TV, radio, or internet coverage. I spent much of it trying to glean news, without much luck. That had to wait until I got back home, and resumed my parish duties.
The archdeacon made an appointment to visit me; I assumed he wanted to see how I was following the trial. I was worn out, grieving my loss of contact with the Rideout family, and still reeling from the impact of what I had learned about Gordon. I told the archdeacon I was struggling, and felt I needed a 3-day retreat in which I could work through the spiritual issues. He refused, saying he’d had a complaint I wasn’t doing enough work. Three weeks later I had a breakdown.
The prophet Amos has God saying:
‘let justice roll down like waters,
and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.’ (v. 24, NRSV).
Last week, in the General Synod debate on the IICSA recommendations, we at long last started to see justice beginning to flow. There was talk of redress for survivors, and a promise that money would be available. The passion for justice shown by many Synod members in that debate refreshed my soul.
If righteousness is going to continue to flow, the Church needs to do more than just make financial reparations – as right and necessary as those are. All senior personnel in the Church need to be much more aware of the enormous burden borne by those involved in abuse cases, and prepared to offer whatever support is needed. My experience was as a witness, and I didn’t even have to appear in court. How much worse must it have been for the survivors, who did appear and were cross-examined? They are heroes.
When we do justice, we do God’s work; justice is God’s business, and should be ours. Justice and redress have been a long time coming for too many of the Church’s victims. Now, at last, may righteousness become a stream which flows through the Church – and keep on flowing..
Thanks Janet. I read Psalm eighteen this morning, and also Psalm 22. Strengthening. Go well!
Justice does not seem to matter to those in the Church hierarchy. I even remember an extraordinary conversation with an Archdeacon about whether justice was even a significant feature of God’s nature. Having been on the receiving end of the Church’s ‘justice’, which consisted of supporting and even rewarding the bully and treating the victim to a wall of silence, I’m afraid the Church is hastening its own demise. The Church has now decided to become ‘carbon neutral’ by 2030. As we are made mostly of carbon, it would seem that they have decided that the end is within ten years. Will anyone mourn its demise?
Oh, Janet, how awful. The Archdeacon’s morbid curiosity sounds like a desire to hear these things that is not healthy. Good for you, though. Fairly heroic, in my opinion.
Feel really sad for you Janet, what a terrible experience that can’t help but define so much of what you feel about so many things. Abuse comes in so many forms and leaves deep wounds and scars. I am desperately trying to get clergy supervision taken seriously as a recommended action from my learning review so at least idiots like that Archdeacon can check their responses to wounded people. Seriously where do they find this calibre of person!
Oh Janet what a traumatic experience for you. I am so sad for all of it, but especially the nasty archdeacon. I hope you have complained about him. This is another situation where we need a far more user-friendly process than the CDM. And yes, mandatory supervision for clergy
In the circumstances, your grace and resilience are remarkable. I love that Amos quote, and often refer to it. It has been a hopeful start, let’s hope it keeps flowing.
In the heavenly realm, and I still believe there is one despite all that has happened, there is undoubtedly an alternative hierarchy.
Janet is up there. I don’t suppose there are fancy titles, just a clear respect and acknowledgement from the Lord Himself as to whom he holds in high esteem for their character and quality.
The appalling suffering described, is done with great humanity, which only adds to the esteem in which we in turn hold her. Thank you Janet.
Thank you very much indeed for this moving post – it was a very hard read. You have given readers of this blog some hints of what you have had to experience over the years, but it is greatly to your credit that you have told us your story. It also helps in putting your excellent and perceptive blog comments in perspective.
You have been traduced, quite appallingly. In addition, you have to endure the knowledge that Gordon Rideout did not (as far as I recall) express any meaningful remorse for his abuse during his trial and was, shortly after his conviction, pleading for an early release (no doubt hoping that certain of the authorities in the Chichester diocese, by whom he had been favoured under the Hind/Benn regime, might come to his aid). Of course, it is possible that he is now more genuinely contrite; I don’t know. Your experience also indicates that a single instance of abuse will have often a multiplier effect; it is not merely Rideout’s victims and his/their immediately families whose lives will have been devastated but a large part of his wider circle of associates and acquaintances, of whom you were evidently a part.
It is my sincere hope that the archdeacon with whom you had the great ill-fortune to have to deal has not received any further or higher preferment in the Church. However, I suspect that he has…
Very best wishes!
Sorry – ‘single instance’ is certainly the wrong phrase with respect to Rideout. What I meant that the revelation that one person has been an abuser (whether that abuse occurs once or many times) creates waves of distress for large numbers of people who have come into contact with that person. Apologies.
Thank you Janet. I needed your article a lot this week (giving my own testimony on Thursday down in London and don’t want to). You have been through so much. Sharing your journey, though so raw, is part of the way justice may flow to others. And that justice is the insistent will of God.
Susannah, just to say thinking of you for Thursday. Such a hard thing. Hope you have some good support.
Thank you Jane.
Steve, absolutely second the high esteem we and God hold Janet in. Leading the way for us all.
Froghole it is such an important point you make about the ripple effect of abuse. Not just us but families, friends, colleagues, bystanders, colluders, witnesses, anyone who should have helped protect, everyone who was equally taken in. The next generation. Our community. I think there’s a trauma legacy which can take several generations to work out. Walter Wangerin once spoke powerfully about this at Greenbelt.
Amen to these comments. Praying for you Susannah.
Thank you.
Thank you all for your kind comments. I don’t recognise myself in them!
Writing of these events has been cathartic, and has enabled me to forgive the archdeacon. He’s to be pitied, really. Those who live for the rewards the C of E can give are never going to be really satisfied.
I don’t think there’s any question of Gordon Rideout being forgiven. Froghole is right that’s he’s never shown any sign of contrition (though he did plead guilty to an additional charge of CSA brought while he was in prison). I don’t think there’s any way back after you’ve deliberately committed such blasphemies – as Jesus himself said. But that’s God’s business, not mine.
Susannah, may you be aware of being held in God’s loving presence as you give evidence.
Thank you Janet. Your expression is really appropriate. I’m using Joyce Rupp’s ‘The Cup of Life’. Take a favourite cup or mug and cradle it in your hands. Then remember God holds you, and you are oh so precious and beautiful to God. And thank you again for your (costly) courage.
That is so beautiful, Susannah. Thank you for sharing that image.
Susannah, I hope it went well today and that you can now spend some time with people who will support and care for you. Be good to yourself.
ditto that, Susannah. Have been thinking of you today.
Sounds reasonable for the Archdeacon as Janet’s line manager to ask for a little more information. Surely the sub-judice rule doesn’t apply in this situation
Obviously I can’t and don’t answer for Janet, but clearly it was her honestly-held belief that it was improper for her as a potential witness in a pending criminal trial to discuss her evidence with anyone – the line manager point is surely irrelevant. Ask yourself the contra-question. Why did the archdeacon persist in asking for details? It was obvious that Janet, as a witness, was not a defendant implicated in the abuse. I can only think of one tenuous justification: if he felt that Janet needed pastoral or work support. But that is not the impression which comes across.
Thank you, Rowland. No, the pressure the archdeacon was exerting felt more prurient than supportive.
I chose to share my information with the police rather than the Church. There were reasons for my not confiding in the institution in which the abuse occurred. I had learned not to trust it. That should always be respected. A gentle respectful invitation to share if I were ready would have been reasonable and unobjectionable. My decision should have been respected and my need for support recognised and acted upon.
Janet: What you did was entirely in line with the official guidance for witnesses in Scotland. I haven’t had time to check the corresponding guidance for England and Wales. I deliberately avoided any reference to the sub-judice rules. Stephen has reminded us recently that such things are not the purpose of this blog. But (in my view, at least) it was improper to ask you the nature of your evidence, and you were right to refuse.
Yes, I was and am under the impression that one should not discuss one’s evidence before one gives it in court. Otherwise people may lead you to alter it, even if only subtly. This would be especially true of a senior representative of the accused’s employer. I’m puzzled that anyone could think otherwise.
Gary J. Your response to Janet’s piece might have been a valid discussion point if the tone of Janet’s piece had been academic or legal in tone. It was not so your point comes over as strangely heartless and harsh.
I was going to say a similar thing. Irrespective of the legal issue (I bow to greater expertise here), such matters are private, confidential and distressing to discuss. A pastoral response would have been to offer to listen if you wanted to talk, ask what support you needed and respect your privacy. Very worrying that someone is so unpastoral and probes in that situation. So glad you could stand your ground, Janet, and outraged at the lack of support from the archdemon.
PS those of you who are of a praying inclination, I would welcome a mention this week, if you would be so kind. I learnt today that one of my perpetrators died at the weekend. So that path to justice is forever closed. Still trying to work out what that means. Sad for his family and that my bearing witness didn’t get very far.
Thoughts and prayers Jane
I’ve been through that. Very mixed emotions. You have my prayers, Jane.
Very hard, Jane. I will happily pray for you.
Jane, this is very difficult and you will need a lot of support for all your conflicting emotions but while the justice you had hoped for may have been placed beyond your reach, if you feel strong enough there is still important work to be done. When someone dies the church tends to find this as the mat to sweep everything, ncluding you, under. It may be subtle and unspoken but it takes hold. You mentioned your core group, it is important that, if you want, they are fully aware that though you want the family well supported, death essentially changes nothing about the investigation and the possibility of identifying other victims.
My first clergy abuser died 25 years ago, the church said nothing more could be done so as ill as I was I left it. I recently resurrected the case only to find one of the other suspected victims had killed herself in those 25 years, while the church and I had been doing nothing, that is very hard to live with.
You can still be a voice of hope for other victims, there is still justice just a different sort. Take care
Oh gosh Trish I am so sorry you went through that terrible experience. What an indescribably difficult thing to learn.
But I really don’t feel you need to include yourself in the responsibility of doing nothing. You did the courageous thing and reported. You were not in a position to investigate. It was totally the responsibility of the authorities to complete a thorough investigation. Please try to relieve yourself of that burden.
Just as I am trying not to beat myself up for waiting 18 years before reporting the second time. We did all we could. It was unbelievably hard. They (the church authorities) messed up.
Thank you for the encouragement to continue. I will. It will be a different justice, and not the restoration I hoped for, but I am holding on to hope still. And v supportive to learn that each of us in our small way are trying to support hope and justice for others.
Pretty much the same happened to me. I ended up being sacked from my post as a parish priest for suffering from the depression caused by the experience. You can read my story in full on my blog.
http://saintlaika.com/2020/02/06/time-to-talk-not-if-you-want-to-keep-your-job/
I read your story with great sadness Jonathan, and a fair amount of recognition. Your voice is being heard.
Many friends have become ordained thinking they would be part of a caring community of sensitive and well trained fellow clergy, who “had their back”.
In reality, being Clergy is a job, and the workplace sometimes a competitive and sometimes a brutal one. Most of us would expect standards to be higher than the secular field. I very much doubt that they are.
Mental difficulties, however they are framed, impede “production”. You would again think that in the Ministry, understanding of those who suffer in this way, would be greater. I haven’t found this so generally.
Good luck with your work and recovery. Best wishes,
Steve
Jonathan, your story is painful to read. I hope you find. palace where you can be valued and loved for yourself, and where your gifts and ministry can find full expression. If you’re ever in Whitby do come and see me.
Jonathan. Your blog comment got stuck inside the system which meant that it did not appear when you wrote it. I am sorry about this. I hope that you have found some other expression for service and that you have now recovered your health and strength. Your story emphasises the vulnerability of abused people. The Church treating them as an enemy to be fought is unforgivable.