A cautionary tale about how awareness can change everything and keep our children safe:
Making it big-time in the technology field, rolling in cash, I settled my family in Key Largo, Florida. Super awesome place, a slow pace just like New Orleans. The summer was over, and it was time to put my son in school. My wife (at the time) didn't know of my abuse, and she wanted him to go to a catholic school. I told her that he could go to Key Largo Elementary. She protested "I want MY son to have a catholic education!" I retorted "Baby, I don't think that's such a good idea..." She said "That's why you need to come to church with us instead of staying home." You get the picture, I lost the argument.
They had re-branded "St. Justin the Martyr Catholic Church School" to "St. Justin the Martyr Catholic Church School of Marine Sciences." Price tag for elementary school? $24,000. The class sizes were 8-10 students per class. Half of the day they would do academics, and the other half they would teach the kids to swim, then snorkel, and finally scuba dive. Upon graduation, they would dive to the statue of Christ, 70 feet below the surface. Besides the cost, it seems idyllic, right?
Christ of the Abyss
About a year later, it was time for my son to make communion. There is a process for making communion. The parish priest would interview the children to make sure they are ready. I was asked by the parish priest to bring my son to his home, which was on parish grounds. It was late at night, around 8:00 PM. Didn't seem quite right. The priest half-opened the door, and told me thank you, and that I could pick up my son in about 2 hours. I told him that I would stay with him.
The priest said that was not the process, that he and my son “needed to be alone.”
I told the priest that I had made communion, and I knew the process well, and that I would stay. I peered through the door, and there was a man relaxing on the sofa. I asked the priest who he was, and he said that he was a seminarian from Sweden, visiting, on a sabbatical. I emphasized that I would stay, period. The priest told me "Well, it looks like your son isn't going to make communion after all. I told the priest "Well, I guess not. This doesn't seem right, of course I'll have to consult with parishioners to see if this is appropriate." He wound up letting me attend.
The next day I went to the Monroe County Sheriff's Office, and talked to two detectives. I told them "Guys, I have nothing, just a gut feel on this." I briefly told them my story, and what had happened the night before. They seemed disinterested, just nodding their heads. That is, until I mentioned the blue-eyed seminarian from Sweden. Their heads popped to attention and wanted to know more.
The very next day, they arrested the seminarian, and handed him over to INTERPOL. It turned out the seminarian wasn't from Sweden, he was an ordained serial pedophile priest from Germany, running from the law after his indictment. About two weeks later, the parish priest, Edward Olszewski, was rounded up for outstanding warrants in Detroit for raping children. In Detroit, he pleaded no contest and received a very light sentence. After his term, he would head back to Key Largo as “a regular citizen.” He used to be in the Florida Sex Offender registry, and died some years later. I wonder how many children he raped upon his return?
People ask me all the time why I continue in my faith, and why don't I curse God? Hard question, but the bottom line is that if I didn't go through what happened to me, I would not have been aware, and my son would have certainly met the same fate that I had. That's why awareness is sooooooooo critically important. And in 2024, to this very day, it boggles my mind when we tell the public, so that it won't happen to their children, only to be met with disbelief, scorn, and to an extent, ostracized by society, labeled as taboo; they call us liars, alcoholics, drug addicts, mental patients, and what we really need to do is surrender and to “go to church more often.”
I summarily took my son out of St. Justin, and enrolled him into Key Largo Elementary. And I didn't really give a flying fuck what my wife thought about it.
-Richard Windmann
Do you like this page?