In 1962 when I was 10 years I was r*ped by a Roman Catholic priest. I tried to complain but it went no where. Nobody believed me and no police report was filed and I never got a medical exam. My parents thought I had deliberately harmed myself to fake evidence. That is how they explained the blood in my underwear. I won't bother trying to explain the psychological trauma. I shall summarize merely by saying it fucked my mind up pretty badly and I'll leave it at that.
Right after I turned 16 my mom offered me as a slave to the church to work for free as a volunteer to sell game cards for 25 cents each on Bingo! nights. She didn't word it that way though. To her I was doing my Christian duty to fund raise for the church. Bingo! was every Friday and Saturday night. I think it was also a way for her to keep me out of dating circulation. She implied that I would not be welcome to remain living at home if I didn't. So that November, on my birthday which was on a Friday, instead of having a birthday party, I worked for free from 5 pm to 11 pm. I thought I was working in the kitchen since I was under 18 but nobody showed up to sell the game tickets so the priest told me that if anyone asked I was 18.
So they handed me an apron with pockets. Quarters went into the left pocket. Dollar bills went into the middle pocket. Fives went into the right pocket. Tens went into my right rear pants pocket and twenties and twos went into my right rear pocket. I carried a cardboard tray with 500 tickets in it which amounted to $125 in revenue. That was quite a bit in 1968.
Nobody ever asked how old I was. I never told. I was of course just turned 16 as I said. After about 15 minutes I had sold half the box. It was a very popular game but as soon as the box was half empty nobody wanted to buy any tickets. It was some sort of superstition that I never did figure out. So I took the half empty box to the office where the priest sorted through and combined partial boxes until it looked like a new box filled with game pieces. Gamblers are funny, for some reason they think they have a better chance of winning if the box is brand new and full. They think the odds go down if the box is half empty. Meanwhile I had pockets filled with cash that I thought the priest was going to cash. He asked if I needed to use the rest room and suggested I do because I won't get a chance again until I came back again. I started to take the apron off and hand it to him for safe keeping and he told me to keep custody of the case until I got back from the rest room. When I got back I observed everything he did and realized he never counted the game pieces and had no idea how much cash I should have in my pockets. Also since part of my job was to pay out smaller prizes, free game tickets, $1, $5, and $10. that affects how much money I should have and the priest never kept track of any of that. I took no action that first night because I wanted to see how everything worked. But the next night, Saturday, when I saw it was the same priest I decided to try to skim a little. I took two dollars and stuffed it in my sock.
Nothing bad happened so the following Friday I skimmed a five dollar bill. When nothing happened I took ten. Within a couple of weeks I was skimming about $50 from every box of tickets a sold and that came to about $100 and hour or $600 a night or $1200 a week. So this went on for years. When I graduated from high school I had skimmed a total of over $156k. I had by then spent all of about $5k on such things as a car, TV, stereo, clothes etc. In the summers I worked a full time job Sun-Thur in a restaurant and that didn't pay hardly anything but I had to have a job to explain how I could buy things. My mother never questioned the math. On the day I graduated I had almost $153k total in a lock box I kept in a hole in the ceiling of my bedroom. After high school I went to a community college and earned my A.A. in general education then went on to ART school and studied art history, the subject most royalty study because it's an easy degree. You look at art read about art then write highly opinionated essays about the art. basically you B.S. your way to a B.A. The community college didn't cost much, I got grants for most of it because I had little actual income. When I transferred to the local state college I could still live at home and mom liked that.
I stopped skimming from the ticket sales when the old priest retired and was replaced by one who had studied accounting and business before going to the seminary. But that only happened just two months after I graduated with my art degree. Mom was happy to support me while I was in school so I had very low expenses. On graduation day I had big four stainless steel lock boxes in the ceiling with $96k in each for a total of $384k.
I should at this point say that the priest who ran Bingo! was not the same one who r*ped me. The one who r*ped me told me he knew I was a sissy faggot and knew I would like what he was going to do to me. He made me suck it then he fucked my ass. That is how I bled, from my ass being fucked. If he had waited two years I would actually have enjoyed sucking his dick and had he been more gentle and patient I would have enjoyed getting it up the ass. But not the way he did before I got to puberty. I later found out he did that with several other alter boys.
So as I said, the day I graduated from college I had no debt and I had squirreled away $384 thousand dollars. That was actually enough to retire on and then some. It was 1974 and you could buy a nice house for $30k. A new car could be had for about $5k and a really nice new car could be had for about $10. But I found that I couldn't spend a lot of it because I had no way to report it as income without being caught. Then I discovered the wonderful world of antiques. It seemed, at least in those days, that you could launder any money you wanted to if you had an all cash business and most businesses in those days were mostly cash. Antiques were the best because often they were stolen and nobody wanted to answer questions and few wanted to ask them. I rented out a store front and advertised antiques for sale. Then during the week I would buy out whole estates and sell the antiques in my shop. Pickers and others would bring me antiques to buy. I could claim any price paid and sold for in my records. So I just pretended I had a very lucrative antique shop and paid taxes accordingly. Now in case you think I should be reported to the I.R.S. I actually paid the appropriate tax on everything I stole as though I had earned it I just funneled it through my antique business to make it look like I earned it that way. Ironically I ended up doing better with antiques than with stealing. I retired in 1994 after twenty years in the business with $32 million to my name. I had multiple antique malls, shops and boutiques and imported tons of antiques from Europe for the American market. I never stole from anyone else again after I stole from the church. I should also point out that the average payout from the church pe*oph*le scandal was more than I stole from them if you calculate in attorney and court costs so I feel NO guilt and NO remorse and I'd do it again.
In 1995 I discovered that the priest who r**ed me had died. I went to his funeral and after everyone else left I pissed on his grave. Yes, I took it out and urinated all over his grave.
I did commit one other crime. After the creation of the sex offender's watch list I looked ..(continue confession)
