The Lying Depraved Bishop, part 2
A righteous pastor and a determined reporter bring down the wolf in priest's clothing.
There are only a handful of good priests in the Unholy Fathers saga of the sins and crimes committed by the child-raping clergy of Springfield, Massachusetts. From Bishop Thomas Dupre to Richard Lavigne to the scores of other “credibly accused,” most of the alleged holy men I’ve reported on are actual devils and dirtbags.
In Episode 10, though, we hear the story of Rev. James Scahill, or “Father Jim,” as he was known to his adoring parishioners at St. Michael’s Parish in East Longmeadow. He was the rare hero of Catholic priests, one who stood up for victims of priestly abuse. And he was the special sort of Catholic cleric, one who listened to his congregation. He became further empowered after hearing from his flock who were tired of their financial contributions paying for the lifestyles of bad priests. Especially to Lavigne, the child-murderer.
Inspired by his parishioners, Scahill took to speaking truth to power —specifically to the serial rapist Bishop Dupre — and undertook a revolutionary act (for a Catholic priest) by publicly disobeying his bosses. Scahill understood how important money was to the Bishop, so the pastor made the power move — with support from his parish — and began to withhold the six percent of parish earnings, aka the “cathedralticum” payment, paid to the Bishop every month.
Which meant the disobedient Scahill became a major thorn in the dirty bishop’s side. While his litany of complaints mostly focussed on Lavigne-the-murderer still being on church payroll, Scahill was also obsessed with the rumor that we now know to be true: The Bishops of Springfield had intentionally destroyed secret records in order to protect their child molesting priests from criminal prosecution.
In mid-September 2002, hundreds of priests from the Springfield diocese descended on a hotel in Cape Neddick, Maine for a “spiritual retreat.” Called by Bishop Dupre, the retreat was an attempt at damage control and to deal with the fallout from the diocese’s child molestation scandal.
During a lull in the meeting, Father Scahill rose and addressed his brethren.
“No matter what anyone says,” the renegade priest intoned, “there is no virtue to obedience that requires the surrender of virtue. There is no virtue to obedience that requires one to go myopically blind, like the soldiers of Hitler.”
There was silence, momentarily, then Bishop Dupre bellowed. “Father Scahill, you are being disobedient. You have broken your oath of office as a pastor. And you have cost the diocese thousands and thousands of dollars with the timing of your stunt…”
Father Scahill interrupted. “I’m listening to my parishioners. And they tell me to…”
“SILENCE!” The Bishop glowered, pointing at Father Scahill. “Remember your vows,” he sputtered threateningly.
From that point onward, Father Scahill was shunned by his fellow priests and the Bishop. The other alleged holy men remained silent to protect their the Bishop. And themselves. The reason: many of them were guilty of sins and crimes against children. Or guilty, at minimum, of turning a blind eye to the horrors committed by their brothers-in-Christs’ sins.
But Scahill’s public dissent was inspiring to many. Especially to dozens of victims of priestly abuse who sought help, healing and counsel from the good priest. In Father Scahill, those victims found solace and non-judgmental support. And prayers.
The following year, the Bishop and his underlings tried to shift attention away from the scandal. Dupre made a very public and loud attempt to reassert the church’s moral authority on social issues. That’s why, in 2003, he became the face and voice of the anti-marriage equality movement in Massachusetts and vociferously argued that marriage was meant to be a union between man and woman. And very few folks dared to challenge his hateful rhetoric. After all, Dupre was the most powerful religious spiritual leader in western Mass.
Meanwhile in California, one of Dupre’s victims stumbled across a wire service news story reporting on the Bishop’s sanctimonious moralizing. This now-grown man — who had been repeatedly raped by Dupre from 1977 to 1982 — decided he’d kept his mouth shut long enough. He’d heard a reporter from the Springfield newspapers named Bill Zajac was working hard to bring the Bishop down. And with some assistance from Father Scahill, the tide turned.
This was the beginning of the end for Dupre, who would become the first American Catholic to be indicted on child rape charges.
Unfortunately, like many powerful men accused of sex crimes against children, the Bishop was never prosecuted. Instead, the Catholic-power-machine closed ranks. The DA tossed out the indictment. And the unpunished Dupre lived for another dozen years in relative comfort and luxury, until dying in 2016 at the age of 83.
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