Denise Ross

End of The Fall-- very disappointing. I was looking forward to it all being wrapped up, but there’s going to be another series. Dates on Channel 4 was quite good. I missed the start of Mea Maxima Culpa: Silence in the House of God (2012) directed by Alex Gibney BBC 4 10pm, but it was easy to catch up. Priests commit paedophilia. Priests are protected by the church. It follows the case of four deaf men who brought a case against the priest that abused them in the 1960s, Lawrence Murphy, and the Catholic Church. The cover up of child molestation and child rape went all the way to Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger who was later made Pope Benedict XVI. It included plans to buy an island for known priest paedophiles, but this was not followed through. Paedophiles were ‘treated’ by The Order of the Holy Paraclete and sent back to the circuit of child abuse in a new parish and get moved on, abuse again and get moved on. To say nothing was done would be a lie. Everything was done to protect the reputation of the church and church wealth including trashing the victim’s lives. I think several rich parishes in America went bankrupt rather than pay damages-- estimated by the church at potentially £2 billion. One of the abusers started the Legion Of Mary and was the church’s best fundraiser. He was personally protected by Pope John Paul II. This shows the church to be a shrewd business that is morally bankrupt and I am ashamed to say I was born and brought up Catholic. Agnes a wee wifey that likes a drink and goes to the same pub as me always likes to slag off the priests and calls them all ‘paedos’. I couldn’t agree more. All wealth should be disposed of ( see, for example, Morris West: The Shoes of the Fisherman) and the Vatican knocked down. All priests should be made lay men.

Death of Denise Ross. I’d say Denise was about 46. The last time I saw her was a few weeks ago, Saturday. I was coming out the bookies on Dumbarton Road. It took me a few seconds to nod and say ‘hi’, her face was covered in boils. I’m not sure if she recognised me. I didn’t really know her. She’d sat with us in the Drop Inn about ten or fifteen years ago, when her brother Terry was still alive. I went to school with Terry. He took an overdose of heroin and died. The eldest Ross boy fell off a tenement roof when collecting doos and also died. He was a promising football that had signed S-forms for Celtic. I can’t remember his name now which is a bit shocking, but it will come to me later. Denise was the last to go. She was a junkie and lost an arm through her smack habit. Lately, she was just an alcoholic. Nobody wanted to know her. The shame is not in the dying but the living. There was no place for Denise. May she rest in peace.