A HOLY OUTRAGE SHOWTIME'S 'OUR FATHERS' SEEKS TO MAKE SURE THE VICTIMS OF THE CATHOLIC ABUSE SCANDAL ARE NOT FORGOTTEN.

Byline: Valerie Kuklenski Staff Writer

THE SCANDALOUS epidemic of priests sexually molesting children that came to light in Boston in 2002 may seem like old news to a public that has moved on to other headlines such as Michael Jackson's trial.

But the subject always will be raw for the survivors violated by such trusted figures, the relatives who cope with their emotional baggage, and the teachers and bosses of those survivors who cannot earn their trust.

Showtime's dramatization of the most notorious cases, ``Our Fathers,'' debuts Saturday as recent headlines serve as reminders of the scope of the problem. Last week, a videotaped deposition by former Catholic priest Oliver O'Grady surfaced, showing him describing his seduction technique that led to multiple assaults on young children in Stockton while Cardinal Roger Mahony was the bishop there. And voluminous files released this week related to the $100 million settlement between the Orange Diocese and 90 plaintiffs shows bishops there also covered up for and transferred known pedophile priests for more than two decades.

David France, who led Newsweek's coverage of the Boston scandal, says there are nine criminal cases pending involving priests and more than 400 lawsuits against some 120 priests here in the Los Angeles Archdiocese.

``It's huge,'' says France, author of ``Our Fathers: The Secret Life of the Catholic Church in an Age of Scandal.'' ``How Mahony has gotten so far without taking a single bullet for this is amazing.''

While France's book goes into graphic detail about the known offenses of former priests John Geoghan, Joseph Birmingham, Paul Shanley and others, it places the stories in the wider context of the Roman Catholic Church, its establishment of priestly celibacy in the Middle Ages and its discussions of sex and reproduction in the Vatican II conference of the 1960s. It also sheds light on an institutional mind set of denial and cover-up that makes Watergate look like harmless whispering.

The film only alludes to the molestations themselves, focusing instead on the aftermath: the mothers torn by love for their children and their church, the systematic shuffling of offenders from one parish to another, the complaints swept under the rug with small settlements and confidentiality agreements and, decades later, the emotional wreckage of men who recall being assaulted even as they and their spiritual leaders prayed together. It also shows the church's apparent lack of concern for the welfare of the young victims.

Why it happened on such a large scale in that time and place remains a puzzle. According to France, the number of pedophile priests is usually about half the 3 to 4 percent of the world population who have pedophile tendencies. But there was something extraordinary about the young men emerging from Catholic seminaries between 1960 and the early '70s.

``For this generation, there's a huge bell-curve leap. The class of 1960 had a 12 percent offense rate in the archdiocese in Boston, similar across the country. That's more than one in 10 ordained priests who, through the course of their adulthood, would draw credible allegations of sexual abuse from children. That's huge.''

Brian Dennehy plays one of those 1960 graduates, the Rev. Dominic Spagnolia, who at his own peril was an outspoken critic of the church's handling of the scandal. Dennehy, who was raised Catholic, calls priest pedophilia ``the crime that keeps on giving.''

``It's not just the kids. It's their families, their brothers and sisters, their uncles, their aunts, their wives or husbands, their children. Generation after generation, person after person, it's a terrible, terrible devastating crime.''

Ted Danson plays attorney Mitchell Garabedian, an ordinary civil litigator who uncovered documents confirming the archdiocese's cover-up and ultimately won $10 million for 86 plaintiffs.

``I really felt like I wanted to be part of this story, not so much, oh, I'm dying to play this character,'' Danson said. ``I want to be part of this story because I think it is an important story.

``I loved the idea that there was a question for some people - is (Garabedian) an ambulance chaser or not? I like that slight rough edge, that he's not a saint, that he kind of stumbled into doing something really powerful.''

Danson said his mother, for many years a Roman Catholic, was concerned about her son's involvement in the film until he explained the good he believes it could do.

``It's obvious, but as long as you have secrets, there's no room for healing,'' he said.

Cardinal Bernard Law, played by Christopher Plummer, is a focal point of both France's book and the movie, even though he refused to be interviewed for the project. His dialogue is reconstructed from other witnesses' accounts.

Danson said he respects France's book and Thomas Michael Donnelly's script, written practically simultaneously, for presenting with balance what could have been a one-sided account.

``They really did seem to address it evenly,'' he said. ``(Plummer) brought such human dignity ... to Cardinal Law, and that is so important, because you don't want to be able to dismiss this as a one-off, or this is just one man, or this is just isolated.''

Olan Horne knows firsthand of the scope of the damage. As a boy in Lowell, Mass., he was sexually abused by someone he describes only as a person close to his family, and when he revealed that dark secret to his parish priest, Joseph Birmingham, he too assaulted the young Horne.

A few years before the Boston Globe broke the scandal open, Horne and some boyhood friends followed Birmingham's path through eight parishes and uncovered scores of victims. Now 45, Horne works for the University of Massachusetts, consults in mediation of other victims' settlements, and recently started the nonprofit Opportunities Project to aid victims of childhood sexual abuse.

It was Horne, played by Chris Bauer, who is shown confronting the cardinal - whom he calls Bernie - about his habit of isolating or relocating offenders or sending them for counseling rather than notifying the police.

``Years ago, I used to drive down the street, and I'd see a guy losing his cool and grabbing a guy out of a car at a red light because he honked at him, and I used to say, 'That guy's an (expletive),' '' Horne said. ``Now I say, 'What happened to him?' ''

Horne met personally with Robert Greenblatt, Showtime's president of entertainment, to receive his assurance the movie would raise issues important to Horne and the other victims of Birmingham depicted in it.

``I said, 'Listen, I want you to understand how fickle we are about getting behind this, because it's got to be the right film, it's got to have the right message, and if not, we're moving on,' '' Horne said. ``They treated us with respect and dignity, and I thank them for that.''

Horne said he encourages everyone he talks to to see ``Our Fathers'' multiple times.

``And close your eyes once. Don't look at the characters - listen to them.

``I like it more and more every time I watch it,'' Horne said. ``But sometimes I look at that kid named Olan Horne and it breaks my heart.''

Valerie Kuklenski, [phone]

valerie.kuklenski(at)dailynews.com

OUR FATHERS

What: Movie adapted from David France's journalistic account of the Boston pedophile priests' cases.

Where: Showtime.

When: 8 p.m. Saturday.

CAPTION(S):

3 photos

Photo:

(1 -- cover -- color) Cross to bear

`Our Father' explores scandal and its aftermath in the Catholic Church

(2) Cardinal Bernard Law, played by Christopher Plummer, right, receives the blessing of Pope John Paul II (Jan Rubes) in Showtime's ``Our Fathers.''

(3) Olan Horne, left, a survivor of a priest's abuse, talks to David France, whose book served as the basis for the movie.