The Keepers (2017) s01e02 Episode Script

- Hey, Tom.
How are you? - Hey, how are you? - Come on in.
- Hello.
Good to see you.
Being Jane Doe, for me, that was paramount.
I didn't want anyone to know who I was, I didn't want anybody to know my family.
For quite some time, I trusted that I had some privacy with that.
Because I was always afraid of what people were gonna say and think about what I had said.
What's your view of what most likely happened to her? I believe that Cathy Cesnik was murdered by someone she knew.
I believe that it wasn't a stranger who killed Cathy Cesnik.
It may have been a stranger to her who moved her body, or a stranger to her who cleaned up after, but I don't believe that it was a stranger who killed Cathy Cesnik.
Cathy Cesnik was killed because she was going to talk about what went on at that school, and I believe that there were more than one person who was really afraid that she was going to, um, out them.
And they used her death to keep me quiet.
Baltimore has always been a quintessentially Catholic city.
Baltimore is the home of Roman Catholicism.
John Carroll founded the first archdiocese here, maybe the late 1700s.
Baltimore is a city of firsts.
The first telegraph the first streetlights the trains.
And it is the first diocese in the United States.
Every neighborhood had its own parish.
Everybody went to church.
I mean, rosary, May processions were a big thing, First Communions.
All the Sacraments were a really big deal.
You were not only going to school with people that were Catholic, going to church with people Catholic, you were living in Catholic communities.
But Baltimore has always been a working-class city.
In 1969, when Sister Cathy dies, we lived in a much more basic, simplistic, primitive society.
This is a world of blue-collar folks, they're working in these factory jobs.
They are living in little row houses, they are tending little postage-stamp lawns.
They are living for that glorious moment when their little daughter puts on a veil and goes for her First Communion.
I was one of ten siblings.
There were three boys me, then three boys, then there were two girls and a boy.
It was a good Catholic family.
Eleven months later you had another baby.
My parents were good Catholic parents.
Everybody went to church on Sunday, and if you didn't have a ride because dad was a policeman and he worked shift work, you'd walk to church.
You know, it was unheard of to either miss church on Sunday or eat meat on Friday.
During the Cuban Missile Crisis, we all knelt down and said the rosary.
The Catholic religion, the Catholic faith was part of who we were.
We were all altar boys.
We were told it was an honor and a privilege to be an altar boy.
The priests were the authority.
You don't question them.
Uh, you You Whatever they told you to do, you did.
My mom was very devout.
It was an integral part of the family, which came from her.
But my dad was there.
I mean, like, if we went to confession, it was nothing like seeing your father go to confession first and then come out.
It was kind of like If he believed and trusted the confessional, then we all did, too.
My mother was, in fact, a true Christian.
If you lived right and you loved God, that faith that you exhibited, plus the love that you had for your fellow man, would provide the hope that you need in order to succeed.
Got you some cereal, put some strawberries on it today instead of banana.
- So, there's that, okay? - Mm-hm.
Your coffee.
We'll let that cool a little bit.
Alrighty? This is my senior.
This was the end of a pretty horrific experience.
And I probably was relieved that it was ending.
She holds memories, and I've been afraid of those memories.
Archbishop Keough was the jewel in the archdiocese.
It was a really nice new school.
It had that spanking-new type of, uh, look to it.
Run by nuns, the School Sisters of Notre Dame.
It was really a big deal to be accepted to go to Archbishop Keough.
You had to get in.
You had to take an entrance exam.
So, the big day in eighth grade would be when you came home for lunch and your letter was waiting for you that you had been admitted to Keough.
It was prestigious.
I was very excited because that's exactly where I wanted to go.
It was within walking distance of my house.
I really was excited about going.
I remember my freshman year, I was very, very happy to be there.
My parents worked hard that I could go to it.
It was very exciting but really strict.
There was order, discipline.
You know, you had nuns all over the place.
There were a lot of nuns.
Our administrators were nuns, our principal, our assistant principal.
Joseph Maskell was the chaplain.
There was also a priest by the name of Father Neil Magnus.
- He was responsible for studies or - Christian education or something I never saw the man, that I remember.
They had language labs and really state-of-the-art equipment.
They had a science room.
They had a large gym.
It had a large outdoor field for different sports.
They even put "we are women of a new age" in their song, and it was just supposed to be women being able to reach their full potential.
It was supposed to be a safe place.
My life would have been very different if I had not gone in that confessional.
I was at Keough.
I was a freshman.
I went to confession there.
It took me five tries to get to the confessional.
I got in the confessional and I told the priest something that I was feeling very guilty about.
I had been abused by an uncle when I was younger.
He was a pedophile and he was sexually abusing me.
That had ended, there was some guilt.
And I always remembered it was Magnus and always remembered that he said: "Can I look at you, and what is your name?" And I always thought, "God, this must have been so terrible that he had to look at me and ask my name.
" And at the end of it he said: "I don't really know if God can forgive this.
I'm going to have to pray more on this and I'll get back to you.
" Probably a couple weeks later, the same priest, Magnus, walked up to me in the hall and he said he wanted to see me in his office.
And Magnus was there and he proceeded to just reiterate that I was so bad that it was going to take a while before there was going to be a real answer to whether God could forgive me.
And that if I emptied myself of these behaviors that were so sinful, so bad that it would make room for God to be able to fill me with the Holy Spirit and that I could be forgiven.
The things that he was doing was "sacramental," you know, quote-unquote.
Um That, you know, he talked about, uh, his come as the Eucharist, you know.
He was doing symbols on me of the crucifix with it as if it was, uh, sacred.
He was also saying that his come was the Holy Spirit that I was to swallow.
I was very naive.
I was extremely innocent.
I had no idea that this was, um, abusive.
I felt that it was a man of Of authority, of faith, who was helping me become a good person.
He was reminding me that the things that I had done were Weren't done to me.
That I made those things happen.
After a couple of my therapy sessions with him, I went into the room and then Maskell came in.
From the beginning, I was afraid of Maskell.
He had no qualms being angry with me.
He started very early on calling me a whore.
They would pray in Latin over me as they were having me do things to them, or they were doing things to me.
Or one would be praying over me in Latin while the other one would be, you know, kind of saying: "Take the Holy Spirit," and, um You know, through his penis.
So, it is a very interesting dynamic to feel both of them in the room, to be cornered by them both, to feel two men of not only great size, but that they were powerful because they represented God.
I I wanted to get out of that room, and yet I felt that I had to be in the room in order to to be a good person.
It was It was the beginning of some of the thickest confusion that, um, probably could be imagined.
At a particular point I went to the room and it was just Maskell there.
And it was a very scary point.
He was angry at me because I wasn't getting better.
I remember one time he was real angry and he was raping me.
And I can remember my head hitting the the wall.
He was really upset and angry about something and he was really taking it out on me.
I couldn't figure out what I could do because I kept feeling like every time it was over, I thought: "Well, maybe this time God forgave me.
" I had never been in a school where a priest had a presence like the priests had there, because they had offices at Keough.
Father Maskell wielded a lot of power and fear in people because you didn't wanna be called to his office or get in trouble.
He was chaplain and school counselor at Keough.
The building itself was a very long rectangle with some corridors that went off in different directions.
And his office was far from the administrative offices.
He was down at the far corner where there was an exit.
You used to see a lot of girls coming in and out of his office, which was kind of strange.
But then I learned that: "Hey, you know what? If you wanna smoke, you You can go in Maskell's office and smoke.
Just go in there, talk to him, just hang out and talk.
" Maskell was an Irish priest right out of the traditional working-class Irish-American community.
His mother often dressed her boy in Mass vestments.
She used to sew him vestments and he'd dress up in them and Mm-hm.
Call the neighborhood kids over to say Mass for them.
She went and bought NECCO Wafers and she segregated the white ones out so that they could serve as imitation hosts for Communion.
While the other boys were playing football and baseball down two blocks away at the park he would say Mass in the yard.
From 15 years old, he was priest-in-training.
In '65, he was ordained.
And then his first assignment from 1965 to 1966 was at a Baltimore parish named Sacred Heart of Mary.
In '66, he was transferred to St.
Clement Parish, which is adjacent to Archbishop Keough High School.
He was made associate pastor there.
And he supervised the Boy Scout troop there.
This is my, uh I guess My wife calls it a dust collection room.
That was my retirement certificate.
There's my grandfather.
The great-great-grandfather I was telling you about, Southern District policeman in Baltimore, and there's a picture of him later.
Me and my brother worked in the police station he worked out of, so Kind of like family tradition.
When I started Catholic school in the early '60s, it was a pretty harsh environment.
We were paddled.
I mean, the nuns We feared the nuns and Not only the nuns, but the priests, they were on a whole different level.
The priests were more like godlike figures, and I mean, they'd walk in the room, it'd just be silence, and, um But this priest, Father Joseph Maskell, there was something about him.
He had a coldness about him.
And I've served Mass for different priests.
And one day, we were getting ready for Mass You know, the altar boys, we'd get there a little early.
He'd come into the sacristy and, um He takes a handgun out of his pocket and put it on the the counter in the sacristy.
And being a street-smart kid, you know, from the city, growing up watching Adam-12 and things like that, I mean Probably most kids wouldn't have questioned him, but I just let it go.
And I asked him, "Father, why do you have a handgun? You're a priest.
" And I'll never forget that.
But I'll also never forget the look he gave me.
I mean, he Like as if he looked through me: "How dare you question me.
" I didn't get a look like that until years later interviewing violent offenders talking to someone who had murdered somebody, looking in their eyes.
That's when I got that look again.
One time I went into the room and he said, uh, that it was time for me to participate in this.
And he went over and took something out of the drawer, and it looked like a penis.
And I was, like, not sure what in the world he was doing or what that was.
He said, "So, now, you're gonna be participating in your therapy.
" And so he began to use it, and I remember crying and saying: "Please stop that, please stop that.
" And as it began to take effect he came down real close and, you know, he was like: "Okay, let's see how much the whore likes it," you know.
Um, and so then I had an orgasm, not knowing what that was.
He came in close.
He always liked to come down close.
And he said, "You hated that and I'm glad.
" And he said, "Get back to class.
Don't be late.
" He never gave me a napkin.
He never would hand me a handkerchief.
He never told me I could use his bathroom.
It was always Uh, "Pull yourself together and get back to class.
" And I'd hear the click of the door, and it was like I forgot everything that had happened.
I was walking in the hall and I couldn't figure out where I was supposed to be.
And Cathy Cesnik looked down and she said, "Jean, where are you? Where are you supposed to be?" And I said, "I don't know.
" So, she told her class to She'd be a minute and she went across the hall and she asked the teacher, "Is Jean supposed to be in here?" And she said, "Yes.
" And she said, "Jean, you belong in here.
" Then I went in and I sat down in a desk.
Sister Cathy was the type of person that was approachable, and you knew that you could talk to her.
You didn't get that all the time from the older nuns.
You didn't feel like you could connect with them.
They were more authoritarian.
Sister Cathy was my favorite teacher.
I played guitar, so I had my guitar with me all the time.
And Sister Cathy played guitar, too, so I did a lot of practicing with her.
She had more energy than any person I've ever met.
Very upbeat and happy.
You could talk to her about anything you wanted to talk to her about and Sometimes she would give you advice and sometimes she would just listen.
She just had a way of soothing your soul.
At Keough, she was probably around 25.
So young.
All through elementary school, the majority of the nuns that taught you were older.
I mean, I had the same second grade nun that my father and his brothers had.
So, she must have been a hundred.
When we got to Keough, there were a lot of older ones.
But there were a few young ones, too.
Cathy was the standout beauty of them all.
Physically beautiful, and her spirit was beautiful.
It was like, "Why would you be a nun?" She approaches the altar to become the spouse of God, promising to serve God faithfully until death.
These are calendars called Nuns Having Fun, and they're absolutely fabulous.
This is called Sisters on the Dock of the Bay, instead of Sitting on the Dock of the Bay.
Oh.
This is called Mass Transit.
Mass Transit.
Get it? "I'd yell, too, but I took a vow of silence.
" My very first day of school, two nuns came out.
I'd never seen a nun before in my whole life.
Immediately, I thought, that's what I'm gonna be when I grow up.
I had no idea what that meant.
I'd never seen a nun before in my whole life.
I just knew in my heart that's what I wanted to do.
I loved elementary school and I loved the nuns.
They were mentors to us.
They were other mothers.
So, I decided that if I wanted to do something special with my life, I could go into the convent.
So, I decided to enter the School Sisters of Notre Dame.
We had 51 girls that entered.
You're measured for a habit.
And then the habit is sent to you, and then you go to the motherhouse, and I can see it in my mind.
That day was so happy.
I waited for that day since I was in the first grade.
For me, it was a real honor that they accepted me and that I could get I could begin that journey.
There's, like, over 150 people that were between the ages of 18 and 21 that were there.
It was very, very inspiring.
We became canonical novices, which meant that we were cloistered.
It's exactly like military boot camp, and it's pretty, uh, rigorous.
I call what we had to go through spiritual boot camp.
We'd get up in the morning at 5:15, we'd go to Mass, we'd have meditation.
We'd go to breakfast, and after breakfast, you would have your chore to do, whatever you were assigned.
Then we had classes.
And we had to learn how to walk with our hands in our sleeves.
We had great, big, giant sleeves and our eyes mortified, cast down, and our shoulders back and very erect, and without looking about.
Cathy Cesnik was definitely not one of the dominant postulants in the beginning days.
She was like a rosebud that gradually opened.
She was kind.
She was very spiritual.
And when I got sick, she was there for me.
We had what was called the Great Silence at night.
We were not able to speak.
And so it was a big deal to speak to somebody.
But Cathy could see that something was wrong with me.
She would just knock on the door and come in and ask me if I was okay, and ask me if she could do anything for me, and she would sit on the edge of the bed and just hold my hand and say: "You're gonna be all right.
" She was so full of compassion for everyone and everybody.
She had compassion for the Earth, and I think that's one of the reasons we entered the convent.
Remember, it was the '60s.
There was a complete change in our society, in our culture, and in the Church.
Vatican II was a big calling together of all leadership at the Catholic Church at the Vatican by the pope to look at religious life and to look at life in the Church and how it can be renewed.
There were a huge amount of changes.
Religious communities decided to change their religious habits that they had been wearing for hundreds and hundreds of years.
The pope said you've gotta get involved in injustice to be a part of these great movements, the civil rights movement, stopping the Vietnam War.
This was the role of us as religious, to be a part of changing the world.
We'd be sitting there.
All of a sudden, you'd hear Maskell's voice: "I'd like to see so-and-so" And he would say their name and he would have "Have them come to my office immediately.
" And then he'd click off like There was no if, ands, buts.
You just sent them right away.
It was almost like he had the teachers afraid of him, too.
I was standing at Joseph Maskell's door and I knocked on it.
And Cathy walked down the corridor behind me, and she said, "Hi, Jeannie.
I didn't know you needed these services.
" And he opened the door, and he looked at me, and then looked over my head at her, and I went into the room.
And she said, "I didn't know Jeannie needed these services.
" And he said, "Oh, yeah, yeah.
It's been very effective, real effective.
" And he closed the door.
She had the courage to not only address me, but she also addressed him.
It was almost like she was letting him know that she was also observing.
I think that she was watching a number of us.
His sessions would be supposedly guidance sessions, 'cause he was the counselor for the school.
He started asking personal questions that were really something you didn't wanna talk about.
And he says, "You're gonna have to be punished for this," because it was a sin.
Just getting called to his office was pure trauma to me.
I could be anywhere in the building and hear my name overhead.
And I remember, like, one time I was in Spanish class, and he called my name again, and I, um would start crying and telling the teacher: "I don't wanna go.
I don't wanna go.
" One teacher, uh, said: "I know he's weird and all, but you have to go.
" When you were called over the loudspeaker to report to Father Maskell, a dead silence would come over the classroom, and other, um, girls would look at you with sad eyes.
And the teachers, they They would just, you know, look down or whatever.
It was like They knew something was going on.
They had to.
At a certain point could've been more into my sophomore year, he would bring other people into the room.
I would get there and there would be someone sitting in a chair, and I didn't know who it was.
There were things that Maskell had gotten from me about what had happened between my uncle.
One of the things that my uncle would do is, um There was a bar that he would frequent and he would take me in the back room.
And when he would let people do things to me there, he would be stand by the door.
And I always thought that it was, uh Like he was my protector.
So, what started happening was Maskell would stand by the door while other people were doing things to me.
So, it was as if Maskell became my protector.
One time, it was this person, and he referred to him as a Brother Bob.
I don't know that Bob was his real name or if it was just a pseudonym that Maskell gave him.
Brother Bob was more like a loose cannon.
He was violent.
So out of control.
And he proceeds to rape me from the back and isn't pulling out.
And Maskell comes over and he, um, grabs him, and he said: "You need to be careful.
This is a pup of a whole litter of pups.
We can't have that.
" So, he's very aware that my parents are very fertile and there was a lot of kids.
And so I understand now what he's referenced to.
I see myself leaving the room and I wonder if they just sat and laughed.
I talked to Sister Cathy after school one day when we were playing guitar.
I told her that Father Maskell was not very, um religious.
I think that's how I put it.
And she asked me, "What do you mean?" And I told her that, um he gets a little physical in his office.
She acted like she didn't know, but yet her face said she did know.
Joseph Maskell also was the chaplain for the police department, for the Air National Guard, for Maryland State Police.
Maskell was covered because his brother, Tommy, was a respected Baltimore city policeman.
And just over the city county line, he was chaplain for the Baltimore County Police, and he was close friends with several of the police.
Maskell had access to a lot of protection, and he also could maybe provide men with what they wanted.
One of the persons who was standing in the room one time was a policeman in full uniform.
Okay? If you can imagine having to do something to a policeman, your father is a policeman.
I remember them walking in through a back door and me laying on the black couch.
And I could see the shirt and pants of the officer with the very bright light coming in the back.
And that's when I heard the police officer say: "I don't want to," and Maskell encouraging him.
I was sitting across the table from him and he had a gun.
And he's taking the bullets out one by one.
And he's saying that if my father ever found out that I was whoring around And then he took the gun, he put it up to my my temple, and he pulled the trigger, and he said he will do the same thing, but he'll keep the bullets in.
I was terrified.
He used my father against me a lot.
My father was a policeman, my father carried a gun every day.
He was very aware of the families that were in the school.
In my case there was a lot of abuse in my life prior to meeting Father Maskell.
He would find out what happened in your life, find out your personal life and what what was going on and then he would use it against you.
Did I get chosen by him because he knew I had been previously abused and the relationship with my mother and I was broken, I would be easier prey? And, you know, I thought about that in nursing school years later.
I entered Keough in 1967, and I was doing exceptionally well at school.
My father was an old-fashioned man who believed that girls really shouldn't go to college.
And so, even though I was getting really good grades in, um, academic subjects, he wanted me to take shorthand and business courses as well.
So, I did that.
And in my junior year, I suddenly got a call from the school office to go see Father Maskell.
And he told me that he needed someone he could trust, someone that would keep absolute confidentiality about my classmates that would be typing notes on their psychological counseling, and that I could get out of tests, classes, you name it.
I jumped at the chance.
I already had two jobs.
I wanted a car just so badly and I was saving up for that.
I would just suddenly get a call over the loudspeaker: "Lil Hughes, report to Father Maskell's office immediately.
" You know, and there I would go.
He would always give me a Coke in a a paper cup.
So much of what I was typing was almost all sexual.
It involved incest, it involved bestiality, it involved girls having group sex, venereal disease, on and on.
And these are people that I was sitting right next to in class.
And so many of the records that I did type were about him helping the classmate by taking them to a gynecologist.
I must've been so totally naive, because it didn't dawn on me that this was something that was totally inappropriate.
At the time, I just was taken in by his flattery, his attention, and the fact that I was being, uh, made to feel very important by someone who was very important in the school.
Joseph Maskell, he earned a master's degree in school psychology from Towson State University.
At some point after that, he went to Hopkins for a counseling certificate, they called it, from Johns Hopkins.
Having the psychology certification gave him access to all these young people.
Maskell was heavy into psychology.
He knew how to manipulate people, I think, from that.
And I forgot to tell you about Marnie.
Marnie was a movie that was part of the religion class curriculum.
If it had anything to do with religion, I don't know.
The whole point of it was, she had repressed memories.
And one of them in the white suits.
- Shut up, Marnie.
- No.
Remember, Marnie.
Sean Connery grew to love her despite her problems.
- What happened to you? - Happened? Nothing.
Nothing happened to me.
I just never wanted anybody to touch me.
You ever tried to talk about it? To a doctor or somebody who could help you? It was suggestive, you know, that maybe I have things that I should talk to a counselor about so I don't turn out like Marnie.
And eventually, he helped solve what had happened in her childhood that she had repressed.
I won't let anything bad happen to you.
You're all right.
And then it all came out and "Do you think I'm gonna be all right?" "Yes, Marnie, I think you're gonna be all right now.
Yes, you are.
" And then, Maskell was our school psychologist, how convenient that he picked that movie for us to go and watch.
He was a psychologist.
He would hypnotize me sometimes.
Sometimes it was with a pocket watch he had.
There are blocks of time when I have no idea what happened.
He did do psychological tests on me.
He did Rorschach tests.
Every ink blot was some kind of sexual thing.
He did hypnotize me.
He But he presented it more as a challenge, you know, and with me saying, "Oh, you can't," and he's like, "Oh, let's just see.
" I think there was something in the Coke.
I've never been certain of what happened.
There's so many gaps in my memory of being with him, and I only have fragments.
It was my end of my sophomore year, so the summer was starting.
I had gone back to the classroom to get a book that I thought I had left there.
And Cathy was in the front of the class and she started just, kind of light conversation with me, you know, how How was I doing, what was going on, how did I like Keough? And I said I didn't really like it.
And Cathy said: "Oh, no.
You know, is there something in particular?" And I said, "Yeah.
You know, there's different things," but not really wanting to talk about it.
She said, "Okay.
" She said, "Well, how about if I just ask and you shake your head?" And I was like, "Okay.
" The last time that I was called to his office, it was after school, and I was in the classroom with Sister Cathy and my sister was with me.
Father Maskell came on the PA and asked for me to come down the hall.
And I looked over at Sister Cathy, and Sister Cathy looked at me.
I know that it was a look of panic on my face.
And Sister Cathy told him that I was leaving to go home because it was after school.
My sister told me later on that she saw a flicker of acknowledgement between me and Sister Cathy.
And that's when she knew that Sister Cathy and I knew something about Father Maskell.
So, she asked me was anyone making me do something that I didn't wanna do.
And I shook my head.
I remember looking away, and I shook my head, and she She said, um She said, "Is it? Is it the priest?" And I looked up at her and I shook my head.
And she said, "Oh, dear God.
I thought as much.
" And she then hugged me.
And she said, "I'm gonna take care of this.
I want you to go home and I want you to have a wonderful summer.
" And I told Cathy, "Okay.
" And I left.
Like soap bubbles are we all echoing in an elastic chamber always the fear of exploding to air.
Bubbles touch.
And, true, they break but some are coupled in a rainbowed joining and float, and are, and burst together.
It is dedicated to Gerry.
We were soul mates.
I was her best friend, she was mine.
We first got acquainted in the summer of '66.
We were corresponding in letters by July of that summer.
And I would say that we discovered a real genuine love for each other at that time.
There were very few people who knew what our relationship was.
There was no going out somewhere to dinner or anything like that.
We couldn't do that.
She was facing a crossroads in her life because she was coming up on the expiration of her temporary vows.
The The nuns took vows for X number of years, but then they reached the point where they would shift taking temporary vows to take final vows, and she was facing that.
I was still a year away from being ordained.
We're sitting next to each other outside Keough, it was a warm day.
And we're sitting side by side.
And I said to her: "I feel like I'm about to jump off a cliff, but I'm gonna do it anyway.
You're facing a decision to go take final vows.
A year from now, I will face a decision to become a priest.
And I'm gonna say no to both and ask you to be my wife.
" And she turned me down.
She said, "No.
You're meant to be a priest, I'm meant to be a nun, so we'll go on.
" In spring of 1969 Sister Cathy was still teaching English at Keough.
Then the summer came and we were off.
And when I came back in the fall of 1969 to start the senior year, she was not there and she was no longer on the faculty.
And it was not real clear to us what happened to her or where she went.
School started up again.
Cathy wasn't there, and Maskell was.
At one point, he called me to the office.
It was the first time that I was called to the office since I was back in in my junior year.
He was upset because, uh, he Someone approached him during summer and said that they had heard that he was Uh, he was, um hurting the girls.
He was making the girls do something they didn't wanna do.
And I'm looking at the floor, you know, and he's, like: "That wasn't you, was it? You weren't saying that about me, were you?" And I looked up at him and it was like, "No, no, no, no," you know.
And he said, "Wow," he said, "I hope not.
" He said, um, "I think we need to reacquaint you with who the real whore is in this room.
" He was done, he said: "You get yourself together and get out of here.
You just remember who's got the whoring mouth in this room.
" And I left the room.
And Cathy was nowhere to be found.
Cathy's dilemma was that we are not in touch with where these girls are coming from.
We don't know what it's like to be living in the world.
We're protected behind this convent thing, which limits our understanding of what a teenage girl is going through.
She had gotten permission from her local superiors to try living outside the convent in an apartment in Catonsville with Sister Russell.
This is what she looked like when she left Keough to go teach in a public school while remaining a nun.
Cathy Cesnik and Russell Phillips were trying this experiment.
I understood that Mother Maurice gave them permission to experiment with teaching in public high school and being nuns out in the regular world.
I was surprised that they were the ones engaging in this.
They were compliant nuns following the rules all the time.
Two days before Sister Cathy disappeared, a friend and I went to her apartment, casually, for a visit and we talked shortly.
We didn't talk in-depth because my friend didn't know what was going on.
Sister Cathy asked me how things were, and I knew what she meant.
I was hesitant to answer.
And she says, "It'll be taken care of, don't worry.
" We know of two women, Jean and Kathy Hobeck, who shared with Cathy that they were being abused by Joseph Maskell.
We also know now that there is a third woman who, in fact, was in Sister Cathy's apartment the night before Cathy disappeared.
She and her boyfriend arrived to visit the two sisters, Cathy and Russell, and she was sharing with Cathy about the abuse.
And Joseph Maskell and Father Neil Magnus came into the apartment without knocking.
I asked her specifically what expressions were on their faces, and she said Maskell was furious, Magnus looked dumb.
Sister Cathy sent her out, and her boyfriend out of the apartment.
The next day, when she went to school, he called her into his office and said: "If you say anything, I'll kill both of you and your families.
" She never said anything.
Later that day is when Cathy disappeared.
This woman, who has chosen to remain anonymous, has lived with fear all her life.
Cathy and I were supposed to get together the day after she was actually killed.
She said there was something serious she wanted to talk to me about.
I thought she might Wanted to reopen the question of whether or not we should leave and get married.
But I look back now and say, if at that time she was aware of priests sexually abusing the girls at Archbishop Keough, then maybe that's what she wanted to talk about.
Would've been a hell of a conversation, I'll tell you.
But it never happened.
When I was called to the room, it was after school and he was frantic.
He said, "I know you're close with Sister Cathy And I just I wanted to let you know that she's missing.
" And he said, "But I know where she is.
" And I was like, "What do you mean you know? You know where she is?" He said, "I know where she is.
Want me to take you to her?" And I was like, "Yes.
" We leave his room.
I remember walking through the corridor of the school and we go out, and we get in a car.
There's two unbelievable emotions that are going on at the same time.
One was total shock.
"What do you mean she's missing?" Like, it hit me like a Like, in the stomach.
And the other was, he knew where she was, relief.
And I just knew I needed to see her.
We pull up into this kind of a It was a bit like a barren area.
There was grass, and dirt, and, um And I'm thinking, "What is she doing here?" And I'm following him.
And he moved over and there's a clump on the ground and I knew it was her.
Before I knew it, I was kneeling down next to her.
And there were maggots in her face.
And I was wiping her face and just saying: "Please help me.
Please help me.
Please help me.
Please help me.
" And I'm, like, looking at my hands and he came down real close and he said: "Do you see what happens when you say bad things about people?"