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Confessions: A Glimpse into the Minds of Priests Who Preyed
By Linda Graham Caleca and Richard D. Walton
Indianapolis Star
February 16, 1997
[See links to all the articles
in this series from the Indianapolis Star.]
The Rev. Ken Bohlinger knew how to tempt boys.
He'd tell a dirty joke, then look to see who laughed hardest. Or he'd
say, "Let's do something nasty," and choose boys who seemed
willing.
He'd invite his prey camping. Sexual games of experimentation –
suggested by "yours truly," Bohlinger says – began at
nightfall in his tent.
It was wrong, he knew. "But it wasn't so wrong that it stopped me."
Monsignor Arthur Sego couldn't stop, either.
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For decades, the gregarious priest surrounded himself with girls. He
encouraged them to visit him in their swimming suits.
But he was curious for more.
At the rectory, victims charge, he undressed, fondled and photographed
them.
Sego admits some abuses, denies others and concludes, "I'm not all
bad."
In interviews with The Indianapolis Star and The Indianapolis
News, Boblinger and Sego provided rare insights into what drove them
to prey on the innocent. Both men, who no longer function as priests,
talked of betrayal, God and living with their sinful pasts.
Both say they are suffering, but for different reasons. Shame for his
acts overwhelms Bohlinger. Sego misses his family and is deeply lonely.
Bohlinger, who lives in Tucson, Ariz., is brutally frank in answering
some questions. He says he decided long ago that if he were found out,
he wouldn't lie. "It wouldn't be fair to the children," the
46-year-old said.
Sego. 75, is more cautious. From his priest retirement home near St. Louis,
he complains that his legal problems have dragged "on and on."
One victim has sued him, so far unsuccessfully. As many as 15 or 16 others
have accused him.
Neither Sego nor Bohlinger will say if he is a pedophile. Sego has denied
the problem but admits sexually abusing a young girl. Bohlinger prefers
just to say he is "attracted to children."
Both men rationalized what they did. Bohlinger is able now to see how
his distorted thinking drove him to prey upon boys.
Being a priest, he adds, made it easy.
"Desperation to be liked"
Bohlinger says he didn't pick up lonely kids at the local arcade. He didn't
have to.
He had his own flock.
At St. Joan of Arc in Kokomo. At St. Mary's and St. Ambrose in Anderson.
At St. Joseph's in Rochester.
Bohlinger didn't say whether he left victims at each parish.
But he is clear on how he knew which boys were "ready."
They were the ones who reveled in his vulgarities, telling him, "'Wow,
that was really a good joke – let me tell you one of mine.'"
From there, Bohlinger says, "things would progress."
Bohlinger told himself that he was playing the role of educator, teaching
boys about sex. What he was really up to, he's not sure.
"Was I freeing my spirit? You know, to be young again and not have
all of the moral values hanging over me? Was I trying to recapture some
sort of innocence? I don't know. I honestly don't. I think part of it
was a desperation to be liked."
To be liked – despite his immense girth. At one point, Bohlinger
weighed 290 pounds.
"Kids don't judge," he says. "A guy who is overweight ...
can still be a friend."
He says his acts of abuse were so tied to his poor self-image that he
never abused again after he slimmed down in 1986. The diocese sent him
to a weight-loss program, where he shed more than 100 pounds.
The program gave him time to reflect, he says.
"The more I thought about the activity with kids, the more I thought,
'How could I? What was I doing?? "
It was then that he made the decision: If confronted, he wouldn't deny
his sexual acts.
In 1988, he was confronted.
Bishop William L. Higi was alerted to a charge that Bohlinger had abused
a young relative years earlier, and questioned him about it. At that time,
Bohlinger says, he tearfully acknowledged abusing young people in the
Lafayette Diocese. The charge of sexually touching a family member also
was true.
Bohlinger will say only that the relation was a child who did not live
in the diocese.
He confirms that his ministry ended with the discovery of his abuses.
"There are days that I wish I was never born," he says.
Bohlinger wrestles with how to help a young man still tormented by the
abuse he suffered from the priest at the age of 13. The victim is angry
that he never got so much as an apology.
"How do you unring a bell?" Bohlinger asks.
"I wish I could take all of his pain away and somehow make it right.
I can't change history. I hope he finds his way."
Bohlinger likens himself to an alcoholic who is one drink away from disaster.
At the American Tourister factory outlet he manages in Tucson, he keeps
his distance from young customers.
While he offers them help as a salesman, he's not asking them "'Oh,
what's your name? Where is your address? Your phone number?'"
Getting too close might trigger old habits, he says.
"I would always go one step too far. The wrong way."
Insatiable curiosity
Arthur Sego just loved the little girls.
He pushed them high in the swings and dug deep with them in the garden.
He carried colored pens so he could draw pictures on their cheeks and
fingers. He kissed them on their foreheads, and perched them on his lap.
Sometimes, victims remember, his hand would slip up dresses.
He'd call it an accident.
But it was really an obsession.
From his childhood in rural Kentland, Sego had a curiosity about the female
body. He says a strict upbringing by his father after the death of his
mother left him with "no experience of visualizing a girl or woman."
Looking at a girl's body, Sego has said, "was a new experience."
It was curiosity, he revealed in a deposition, that prompted him to ask
young mothers-to-be to strip for him in 1956. That routine continued for
five years.
"I was fascinated by their pregnancy and touched their stomachs,"
he said.
It was fascination in 1970 that drew Sego to 9-year-old Angela Mitchell.
Sego, then the pastor at St. Patrick Church in Kokomo, IL was drawn to
her because she had a skin condition that left her with large patches
of white across her black skin.
"The splotching ... was just all over," he said. "Big splotches
on her hands, her arms, face and neck.... Other parts of the body I pursued
later."
Twice, admitted Sego, he exposed himself to the child.
"I was erected. There was no orgasm, no ejaculation, no touching,"
he said.
While Sego downplays the seriousness of his abuses, he gave Mitchell money
when she first confronted him in 1994. He says he gave her a $1,000 check
as an act of charity to help her pay bills. Mitchell calls it hush money.
"He wanted me to keep it quiet," she says.
So desperate was Sego to hold onto his priesthood that he contended under
oath that his admitted acts with Angela didn't "specifically"
break his promise of celibacy. That statement is flatly dismissed by Bishop
Higi, who says, "I don't know what in the world he is talking about."
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Broken Trust: Angela
Mitchell was a lonely girl growing up in Kokomo. Her skin condition
made her an outcast among the other children. So when her parish priest,
Arthur Sego, befriended her, Angela was grateful. She says the priest
returned her affection with sexual abuse. Sego admitted exposing himself
to the girl and undressing her but denies touching her. Mitchell says
he is lying. Sego, now in a rest home, insists he really cared for
the girl and is sorry for what he did to her. Staff Photo / Susan
Plageman. |
Many of Sego's assertions came in connection with the lawsuit brought
by Mitchell. Originally filed in Tippecanoe County in 1995, that suit
was dismissed because the statute of limitations had run out. Just last
week, the Indiana Supreme Court refused to hear an appeal, effectively
closing that case. But Mitchell's attorney, Robert Weddle, says he is
considering taking Mitchell's complaint to federal court.
In a 1995 court deposition, Sego was pressed by Weddle to say what he
did to different victims:
Weddle: "What did you do with Linda?"
Sego: "The situation was that I had taken two girls to my room and
that I was partially undressed. But I had not exposed myself to her."
Weddle: "You exposed yourself to Karen."
Sego: "I did not expose myself to Karen."
Weddle: "You exposed yourself to Mary."
Sego: "To Mary, yes."
Weddle: "What did you do to Karen?"
Sego: "She accused me of fondling her, touching her inappropriately."
Also under oath, Sego admitted 10 or 12 acts of mutual exposure and fondling
with a student nurse in Delphi. And with an adult woman, he said, he attempted
intercourse three times.
Sego has difficulty counting his victims. He complains that some exaggerate.
Other accusers, he says, are total strangers.
Asked what he would like to say to his accusers, he answered: "Be
honest."
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Former Parish: Arthur
Sego was serving at St. Patrick Church in Kokomo when he abused Angela
Mitchell. |
Frustrated, Sego insists he was a good priest over decades for "thousands
and thousands." He served twice in the bishop's office in Lafayette.
In addition to St. Patrick's, he was assigned to St. Charles in Peru,
St. Joseph's in Delphi and St. Boniface in Lafayette.
The monsignor points with pride to the recent 50th anniversary of his
ordination, an occasion observed with well-wishes from 231 parishioners
and 47 priests.
"They said they were holding me in their hearts," he says of
the clergymen.
Sego believes he has suffered enough. He called it "extremely painful"
that he cannot function as a priest. He is not allowed to wear his collar
and can say Mass only inside his priest rest home.
Though he loves the peace and beauty of his Missouri home, he longs for
the day his legal problems end.
Then, he hopes, the bishop will let him come home.
"It's lonely," he says, his voice cracking. "My family,
they are all busy and far away."
Contemplating their fates
Both Sego and Bohlinger ponder death.
Sego, who suffers from diabetes and heart trouble, has confessed his sins
to God. He believes "the good Lord" will give him a few more
years to live.
"I can honestly say that the things I have done wrong are over,"
Sego says, "and that I have made my peace with God.
"He is not going to deny me His mercy."
Bohlinger once considered suicide but now is determined to make the best
of his life. He draws a comparison with another sinner, Mary Magdalene.
Like the prostitute who was saved by Jesus' love, Bohlinger has "messed
up" and now is trying to do what's right.
Still, he believes some tortured moments await him.
"My last thought, probably on this Earth, is going to be, 'Why?'"
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