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Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Happy Holly Days

Winter is a time to sing songs, cook warm food, and put colored lights in your house, traditions long before Christ walked on Earth. I do these things to counter the darkness and cold. You can celebrate Winter and never mention any of the weird stuff tacked on by the Vatican 1700 years ago.

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

I think Jesus came back a few hundred years later, saw humans had given the power and message back to Rome and, in his name, were doing the opposite of what he taught, and Jesus said, forget this planet and went somewhere else.

Click my name to connect on FB, I'm too sick to post

Monday, December 8, 2014

Why was Van Handel removed from Megan's Law website?

Is renowned Santa Barbara pedophile priest of Boy's Choir fame now just out there somewhere?

Word just got to me that perp priest Robert van Handel has been removed from the Megan's Law sex offender website.  He was living in luxury in Santa Cruz back in 2012, and now it seems only place you can read the stats on him as they used to be on the Megan's Law site is here at CofA Blog, as the link to where it was originally published no longer works. As published in Jan 2010:

From Megan's Law Website
Robert Van Handel 

Last Known Address:

Zip Code: 95006
Date of Birth: 04-02-1947
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 173
Eye Color: GREEN
Hair Color: GRAY
Ethnicity: WHITE

Above originally published in Jan 2010 at CofA Blog part of a large post on Van Handel. We were working on a post to publish this month about Van Handel when information that although there is no obituary about his death, for some reason Van Handel has been removed from the sex offender registry, CofA Blog learned this weekend.

I just went there and searched and this is what I found.

National Sex Offender Search


0 records from a national search including all states, territories and Indian Country for First Name like Robert, Last Name like Van Handel. To view a list of the jurisdictions included in this search, click here.
Search performed 12/8/2014 12:45 PM EST

Stay tuned.
I will try to find out why his name was removed.  Did he die?  Can anyone tell me? 
-Kay Ebeling
  • Robert Van Handel: A disturbing look into the mind of a ...
    Daily Mail
    Jun 1, 2012 - The 27-page 'sexual history', written by Rev. Robert Van Handel, a defrocked Franciscan cleric, details how he abused children in his boys' ...
  • Priest abuse: Father Robert Van Handel - Documents - Los ...
    Los Angeles Times
    The day the files were made public last May, Eckert, 44, read the words of FatherRobert Van Handel, the priest he says abused him. Below are documents from ...
  • 27 pages undo a life's haunting - Los Angeles Times
    Jan 16, 2013 - Father Robert Van Handel. --. Damian Eckert turned on the computer in his in-laws' home office, a tiny, dim, book-strewn space. He left the door  ...
  • I know, a lot of copy and pasting, I'm not feeling real energetic these days

    Sunday, November 30, 2014

    New Post In Progress

    Based on emails from Ignacio
    (They were not able to stop me after all)

    Background for story in progress

    TUESDAY, JANUARY 26, 2010

    Santa Barbara Boys Choir, 'constant supply of attractive little boys' for Franciscan pedophile priest (pages scanned here)

    By Kay Ebeling

    The Santa Barbara Boys Choir, "was clearly my choir, and the fulfillment of one of my fondest dreams," writes ex-priest Robert Van Handel in an attachment to his probation report called "Sexual Autobiography," from which we've scanned five pages here, for our readers to click-enlarge and read.

    In his 9-point type single-spaced memoir, Van Handel (pictured above) admits, “Now I understand that [the choir] was also a constant supply of attractive little boys.”

    It's likely Van Handel molested 150 eight- to twelve-year-olds as director of the Santa Barbara Boys Choir, according to a letter from his own therapist to the Court in 1994. (Read more in Santa Barbara Story Parts 9 and 10 coming soon.)  On these pages about his time as a Franciscan in Santa Barbara running the boys' choir, the pedophile priest talks his way through years of serial felonies.


    AND:  THURSDAY, JANUARY 21, 2010

    Priest Takes Boys on a Drunken Camping Trip to Yosemite. Santa Barbara Story Part 8, wait until you see Parts 9 and 10

    We continue to run direct quotes from two lawsuits filed Fall 2009 regarding priests at St. Anthony's Seminary, which closed in 1987.
    Then someone handed me a piece of evidence from a 1990s lawsuit against those same Franciscans, this a "sexual diary" of Van Handel. After we post documents concerning a third lawsuit, from another adult victim of the Franciscans of St. Anthony's Seminary, we will have figured out what to do with the contents of the sexual diary. The document was apparently copied and passed around a bit during the early 1990s, I guess before Church attorneys realized they better scrounge everything up and find a way to con-vince a judge to keep everything sealed. I'm reading it now, a few pages at a time as it is hard to take. This is what I read this morning, from the period early 1980s when the predator priest was Rector of the high school for boys.

    Previous entries on this subject:  Part One   Part Two     Part Three    Part Four    Part Five 
    ALSO from Ignacio 

    TUESDAY, OCTOBER 19, 2010

    Homeless Shunned while Pedophiles Sheltered due to 'Concern for Well-Being of Choirboys' at Santa Barbara Mission

    By Ignacio Aceves
    When I was attending the seminary, aside from the sexual abuse I had to endure while in the hands of my Franciscan pedophile, a student was picked to read from a book about St. Francis of Assisi. In the book were many readings about how this saint dedicated his life to reaching out to the poor and homeless. He would even touch lepers, putting the perceived dangers of doing such a thing aside. What a guy! Anyway, you'd think that was how it was amongst the Friars at the seminary, right? Wrong! Here are a few things I can recall happening when I was there living amongst the Franciscan Friars.

    WEDNESDAY, JUNE 9, 2010

    MEMORIES: Housemate Was Pedophile Priest w/Maybe Hundreds of Victims, St. Anthony Seminary, Santa Barbara 1980s-1990s

    It’s impossible to read Iggy’s emails and then say the Catholic Church did not enable pedophiles: “One time he brought in this young boy. They walked through the living room ...

    HERE IS the Original from Wednesday:

    “One time he brought in this young boy. They walked through the living room and straight into his study, then closed the door.” Iggy hesitates. “I heard the kid through the door say ‘Father Robert.’ And the way his voice sounded. It was this exclamation…. But I thought, oh nothing could be wrong, he's with a priest. So I just let it go. But my memory kept it. ‘Father Robert! Father Robert!’ Sometimes things are right in front of us and we don't even see them.”

    When I began researching the hundreds of child molestations that took place at St. Anthony’s Seminary in Santa Barbara, I wrote to Ignacio Aceves, one of dozens of adult victims of priests at the Santa Barbara school run by Franciscans. Aceves' first emails were tentative, then he opened up and poured out memories of years he lived and worked at the seminary, sharing living space with Fr. Robert Van Handel.

    The clever priest persuaded the Franciscans to let him run a boys' choirmaking him able to for 20 years take his pick of boys from the community in just the age range Van Handel craved. “Now I understand that it was also a constant supply of attractive little boys," the priest wrote soon after his 1994 arrest, in a "sexual autobiography."

    "He could easily have abused 150 boys,” wrote a psychologist in Van Handel's Probation Report.

    (See if you can still say the Catholic Church did not enable pedophiles after reading emails from Ignacio Aceves that resulted in this first person story.):


     When 24 Pedophile Priests from One Town Rape 60 Children, It Is a Public Nuisance. Sol Breakthrough Suit Filed against Franciscans in Santa Barbara, By Kay Ebeling, City of Angels, September 22, 2008

     Franciscans Are a Public Nuisance for Letting Children Be Raped over Decades, Says Santa Barbara Lawsuit, Which Could Work in Other States As Well, By Kay Ebeling, City of Angels, December 13, 2008

     Opposition to Fransciscan Request to Lump Ongoing Public Nuisance Case in Santa Barbara with Clergy Cases in LA, City of Angels, September 24, 2008

     The Franciscan Grabbed the Freshman by the Testicles and Instructed the Boy to Cough As If It Were a Hernia Exam. Just Another Day of Seminary Life, City of Angels, December 1, 2009

     Storm the Vatican April 2010. Also, Money for Therapy Comes from Plaintiffs Not Church, and Santa Barbara Story Part 3, By Kay Ebeling, City of Angels, December 1, 2009

     Predator Franciscan Describes Years He Ran Santa Barbara Boys Choir, "a Constant Supply of Attractive Little Boys", By Kay Ebeling City of Angels, January 26, 2010

     Pedophile Mind: As Sentencing Approaches, Priest Pours out Sexual History Hoping for Probation, Gets Notoriety Instead, By Kay Ebeling, City of Angels, January 29, 2010

     Priest Abused a Boy a Month in Santa Barbara Boys Choir. with 150 Victims, He Serves Time for One. Now Living in Santa Cruz, By Kay Ebeling, City of Angels, February 5, 2010

    ALSO from Ignacio 

    (Story in progress, above articles are background on topic previously published at CofA Blog)
     Judge Orders Records of Priests Accused of Molestation Released, By Victoria Kim, Los Angeles Times, April 3, 2009
     Ernesto C. v. Franciscan Friars of California, Inc.; Old Mission Santa Barbara, Oct. 5, 2009 
     Craig Clover, an individual, Plaintiffs, v. Franciscan Friars of California, Inc., Nov. 3, 2009 

    Friday, November 14, 2014

    At some point you have to go in the temple and turn over the tables. Jesus ain't here so someone else has to do it.
    LikeLike ·  · 

    Sunday, October 26, 2014

    yes, women today bring their pre-teen daughters along to twerk exercise class and see nothing wrong with it. Weird time to be alive.

    Tuesday, October 21, 2014

    After the second time I assaulted Cardinal Mahony on the street, a judge had me live in a shelter for wayward women instead of a prison sentence. At that East Hollywood kitchen table, I had the moment of recognition: I have a perfect excuse to kill somebody. Fiction coming soon at CofA Fiction 

    Tuesday, October 14, 2014

    CofA Blog has come to a stop for a while. If you are curious what happened, contact me, I can't go public with it, it sucks. But the Church finally found a way to get me to stop.

    Posted this AM on Facebook, click my name to connect

    Monday, October 6, 2014

    Abuse Not Only Sexual at Madonna Manor Catholic Boys Home (Ted 4 Part 1)

    Parallel Hells Continued

    “Earlier in day the nun was beating me, now she has me suckle on her breast.  I heard them killing a kid once. Just some of the things I'm dealing with in therapy.”  

    Madonna Manor
    Seeing stories in the news today about Irish orphanages where sex was only part of the abuse children experienced, I knew it was time to publish Ted 4 (Ted 1 is here  and Ted 2 is here ), since the theme of the Parallel Hells series is the similarities in pedophile priest crimes and coverups around the world.  I have not been able to complete Ted 3, which will be of the R Rated site and include details of sodomy rape by a priest in a confessional. To be honest, I can’t even open that Word file and work on it lately, so the project has been stalled, until I saw recent news reports from Ireland.

    The interview is a firsthand account of the nightmare of life for young boys in Madonna Manor children’s home run by the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of New Orleans in the 1960s and 70s.  Based on interviews with Ted Lausche Summer 2012 in Chicago, here is Ted 4, in Ted’s own words: 

    I heard them killing a kid once.

    We’d seen other kids get killed too.  You just didn't talk about it.  One kid got thrown under a giant tractor they used to cut the lawn. 


    It was terrible, then we never saw the kid again.  Nobody ever came around to explain. It was just like, everybody knew.

    You could be next. 

    We were out on the field playing soccer.  H told us to move because he was going to start cutting the grass.  There were about 13 of us, and we said fuck you, we're going to finish our game. 

    H went by on his mower, and this kid. . .

    He was a big kid, a large kid, older kid.  H was mad because we hadn’t moved.

    It was a really hot summer day, August, a swamp area, five miles from New Orleans if you fly across river, in Marrero a suburb near Algiers.  Back then we were the only thing out there, with just a two lane both ways. 


    I Was Laying In The Tall Grass Next To A Hand Sticking Out Of The Ground.  It had been eaten, dry skeleton like. 


    I’d run and hide on the property

    Other kids would run and right away try to get to New Orleans.  When I’d run away, I’d go hide somewhere on the property.  As a result I saw places where bodies buried.

    The fog was thick and I lay in the tall grass. 

    That's when I ended up lying in the tall grass next to a hand sticking out of the ground.  It had been eaten, was dry skeleton like. 


    My dad was a politician in Chicago.*  He was on stage at one time with the original Mayor Daly. 

    My mom never married my dad. 


    When I was a baby, maybe three years old, she put me in a taxi cab, I remember it, her and cab driver arguing.  We get to a bar, Figaro’s, a Mafia outlet.  Dad wasn’t there though.  He should have been, because he was running whore house activity. 

    His name was Theodore Paul Lausch.*

    When she had me, she still had her maiden name.  She decided for the birth certificate, his Lausch too guttural but by adding the E on the end it became Lausche.  

    Pronounced Laushay

    Made the name sound French.  

    It was the 1950s, she was a single mom with a kid.  She went to work as, well, as a dancer.

    (One time Ted did meet his father in a hotel room.)

    He bought me this weird ass toy, a yellow dump truck.  He was laying on the couch, he was fifty something, still in great shape. 

    Mom moved us to New Orleans.  She got busted for whoring, got 30 days, and didn't tell the cops she had a kid at home in the apartment.  She just left me, that's how I ended up in an orphanage.

    The apartment where I’d been for days with no food was right downtown New Orleans, two blocks from the police station.  After I’d been there for days with no food, I walked out and sat next to a fire hydrant, and a cop car pulled up. 

    At the police station they pushed two giant chairs together under a slow moving fan, that's where I spent the night.  They brought me sandwiches.  I was outside the drunk tank in a little cell. 


    Here’s How The Book Should Start.  Imagine a world where the only touch is violence. 


    Soon after I arrived at the orphanage, I was still new and f---ing scared out of my mind.  As soon as I walked in, when the social worker walked away this little tiny nun came around, she was about two inches bigger than me, all covered in black, all you saw were her hands and shoes. 

    She says, “You're going to love it here,” and got me an ice cream cone.  I'm thinking this is paradise.  Then the social worker walks away.  The ice cream cone flies into the garbage, the nun grabs me by the ear. 

    She jerked me down to the floor, slapped my face into the tile and said, I'm going to tell you everything you need to know between here and your dormitory.  Then through two dining rooms and a courtyard, believe me she did.  She dragged me by my ear when I couldn't keep up, slapped me half a dozen times.

    But she did not swear. That would be sinful.


    Sure I remember her name. 
    It's Sister Mary Omar. 

    She was about four foot six and was head at the time of Holy Sisters of Notre Dame out of Texas.

    There were about 500 kids at the orphanage, along with some deaf girls also on the property. 

    I was there maybe a week, still feeling my way.  There were unwritten rules about everything.  You were regularly beaten, everybody got punished, then afterwards everybody would beat everybody else up. 

    You slept two to a bed.  I'm laying on the floor, a kid kicked me onto the floor. 

    The strongest survive. 

    From the floor I hear a kid on a bed crying, see another kid is eating his sheets. 


    Earlier In Day She Was Beating Me. Now she has me suckle on her breast.


    (Cut to R-Rated excerpt )


    It wasn’t just me it was other kids too, she just seemed choose them at random. 

    The nuns at Madonna Manor must have been the lowest of the low, and this had been going on for a long time. 

    And we went to Mass twice a day,  three times on Sunday. 

    Everything we got was donated from the community.  When I got out of Madonna Manor, I wanted to go see each charity in the community and tell them, they should find out where their money goes. 

    I tried.

    Obituary of Ted's dad's wife:

    Betty J. Hall, nee Lausch, age 84, beloved wife for 65 years to Theodore R. "Ted"; loving mother of ... Funeral Service 7 p.m. at Colonial Chapel

    Posted by Kay Ebeling
    The City of Angels Is Everywhere

    Foraging for Food at Madonna Manor Boys Home (Ted 4 part 2)

    Parallel Hells, Continued

    Lausche, 2011
    (From Interview with Ted Lausche, Summer 2012, Part one is here, in his own words: )

    Oh man, after the priest raped me, then I got smart. 

    The nuns had meat every day.  They fed us beans and rice, every f---ing day of my life there I ate beans and rice.  I can’t even be in the same room with black eye peas to this day or be around that stench from when they soak beans.

    I was about eight years old when I realized there were ways to break the rules, I saw other kids do it, I was so f---ing hungry and so f---ing tired.  I knew if I just got something to eat, I could sleep good.  I hadn’t slept and was getting psychotic, getting two-three hours of sleep and on top of that being starved. 

    I finally got brave. I went down this long hallway with a door on each end.  I  had to get by the nuns’ bedrooms to get to the kitchen.  I tried several times several nights and finally I made it.


    I had made friends with a dog who used to sleep on the porch.  One night listening to the dog’s stomach growl, it was like, we're all in the same boat here.


    Lying there one night, I thought I had two choices.  I was starting to tear off corners of paper to eat, some kids were paint eaters, they're probably dead.  I started eating paper at night, the kid down from me was eating his sheet. 

    I waited for Sister to get by on her rounds and back to her dormitory, a lot of times they were sneaky-

    I waited for her.  I crawled along the floor, I didn't know if the other kids were sleeping.  Once we went to bed most kids fell asleep, a lot of them cried themselves to sleep, some rocked constantly back and forth, so there was always enough noise. 

    So I'm crawling along the corners, far away from them as I can get at this slow pace, I get over by the door.  I keep expecting sister to come back.

    I close the door and I'm lost.

    What was I thinking. 

    I don't know how far it is down the stairs, there’s this hallway with eight or nine doors all of them nuns’ private quarters.  A light comes on in one of them.

    I Froze.  I stayed there forever, then went back to my sleeping area.  Every time I’d try to go to the kitchen, I’d hear somebody.  I’d stand there and stand there, get tired so sneak back to bed. 

    Probably did that for a week getting a little further each time. 

    I’d get comfortable with sounds I heard in the nuns’ apartments. 

    What made me decide to do something was I had made friends with a dog who used to sleep on the porch.  One night listening to the dog’s stomach growl, it was like, we're all in the same boat here.  Couple days later I thought I know where the kitchen is.  I'm going to go for it.

    I decided I'm just going to do it, not going to wait, If I got caught fuck it, because I was hungry.  There was a certain thrill to it, later on.  I felt like a super hero the first time he fights crime. 

    I got to the top of a stairway that I never got to before.  d

    There was a bright light in the kitchen area. 

    I wasn’t even creeping along the wall this time.  I walked the hall like I belonged there, walked down the stairs, wondering how I’d get back, what have I done.  At the bottom of the stairs, the kitchen is dark.  

    I know where the freezers are, and that's actually where I was headed for the meat. But then I opened a drawer and saw these bags of potato chips, whatever that Southern brand is. 

    Right there I ate the whole bag. 

    It was the first time I ever ate potato chips and I couldn't stop, to this day, I love potato chips.

    I was so full, and my mouth was on fire.  Oh my god next morning my mouth was just caked from all that salt.  I got sick actually later, but loved it while I ate that whole bag, then tried to clean up.

    I wasn’t the only one who stole food. 

    Later I’d find other kids down there but we weren't organized.  You’d come to these conclusions of how to get food on your own.  We were so fragmented, most of the time at each other’s throats. 

    I got caught one time, the time with the potato chips, and I got reamed, that might have been where I got one of the concussions. 

    Sister Martin Marie, about five-five, the one with the free weights. 

    She would punch you, and one time she knocked a tooth out.

    She did that the first time I reported the sex abuse at age thirteen


    When I Got Older I Worked In The Kitchen. 
    You’d serve them these plates of steaming vegetables and cooked meat

    Then we were getting bologna on bread, whatever was donated.  The nuns had a full kitchen. They had a budget to pay for their food.  We were dependent on charity. 

    If we got some kind of meat, it was a piece of sausage maybe in the grits.  Oh I knew how to get into the kitchen, thing is they walked rounds every couple hours. 

    We had lots of vegetables because we had a working farm, so at least we always had fresh vegetables. 

    They’d serve enough food for two people divided up among five people and the bad-ass got the most. 

    A lot of the nuns at the orphanage were lesbians.  They lived there, it was staffed by nuns, a couple were real butch dykes, one with a free-weight lifting set in her room.

    I engaged in threesomes with the other nuns, girls nineteen years old, I was thirteen, oh God, I don't know how many times. 

    (Ted has been married five times with so many serial monogamous relationships in his life, he cannot count. In our summer 2014 conversation he was talking off phone to his current fiancee.  Read more on the residual effects of clergy sex abuse on children when they become adults in future stories at City of Angels Blog. )


    Posted by Kay Ebeling
    The City of Angels Is Everywhere