From the depths of darkness, Fleury, Kennedy find light

In this, the December of the human soul, a mammoth searchlight shines on the darkest tales our species can tell.

It is a cold and barren Christmas this year for sexual-abuse victims in sports, their pain only extended by their bravery.

That is the excruciating contradiction of their feat. By coming forth and revealing the torture they endured, they will suffer publicly until the depositions, hearings and trials end months and years from now.

But the healing can only begin when the truth is set free in the face of those they fear will doubt them, and they must know that the world hears their cries.

“They need to know we believe them, and they need to know they did the right thing,” Sheldon Kennedy says. “They need to know it's not their fault and that the world will support them.”

“They have to stick together and not allow themselves to be victimized all over again by the system,” Theo Fleury says. “Obviously it's not going to be easy to experience this again, but they can have a huge impact and make an incredible difference in the world if they can get through it.”

Getting through it. Right. Probably sounds reasonable to anyone who hasn't suffered the abuse Kennedy and Fleury did as children, raped by the same junior coach, Graham James, who pleaded guilty in 1997 to 350 counts of sexual abuse.

It was Kennedy's decision to go public that brought the scandal to the surface and put James in jail, and Fleury's revelations years later that put James back in prison.

“A victim fears that no one will believe them,” Kennedy said. “Between that and the incredible power an abuser has over the victim, it keeps victims quiet.”

Kennedy was raped hundreds of times by James, his junior hockey coach, beginning at the age of 14 and continuing for years.

By the time James was sent to prison in 1997, Kennedy's life had spiraled out of his control. His NHL career (107 points) was never what it could have been, and by the turn of the century he had given up on hockey, marriage and life.

He hit the sexual-abuse trifecta: drug abuse, alcoholism and thoughts of suicide.

“For so long you think it's your fault and you live in fear,” says the 42-year-old Kennedy. “The fear grips you. It was like, ‘Oh, my God, what if no one believes me?' That was my fear.”

Kennedy remembers the devious ways in which James would keep the abuse secret, how he told others Kennedy was a troubled child who needed special attention, explaining why Kennedy had go to James' home for “tutoring” several times a week.

And all the while Kennedy wondered why those who suspected something terrible never did anything about it.

“Pedophiles thrive on our ignorance and indifference as a community,” Kennedy explained. “They have complete control, and because of that victims' biggest fear is confronting their abuser. The victim has been hammered into believing it's their fault, and they prey on a child's guilt, destroy their self-esteem and manipulate. It's devastating.”

Kennedy and Fleury were held hostage by a coach who controlled everything about their lives and hockey futures, which a junior coach could destroy in an instant.

Say a word and that's the end of your NHL hopes. Say anything and you'll be sent home, labeled as a troublemaker.

Suffer the terror, stay quiet and eventually reach the NHL, turning a Canadian boy against his true love, hockey, raging against the game and life, instead of at the man who ruined their lives, stole their innocence and turned them into drug addicts.

By the time Fleury made it to Chicago in 2003, he was at the end of a career that saw him play more than 1,000 games and collect more than 1,000 points, but it is in the games missed, the seasons forfeited, that you wonder if Graham James also stole Fleury's ticket to the Hall of Fame.

It is in the 1,840 penalty minutes that you understand more about the 5-foot-6 Fleury, and it is in the games he played intoxicated that leave you wondering how great he could have been if a man hadn't stolen his sanity.

In is within that infamous brawl with Blackhawks and bouncers at a strip club in Columbus during his last months in the NHL that you understand a man possessed by decades-old demons can't always find the bottom, no matter how desperately he screams he wants to get there.

“When I was in Chicago I was pretty much done,” says the 43-year-old Fleury. “To go from there, one of the lowest points of my life, to where I am today, it's an absolute miracle.”

Neither Fleury nor Kennedy wants their story to be one of pity. It is gut-wrenching and sad, but there is also hope.

Fleury wrote “Playing with Fire” in 2009, revealing that he also had been raped by James. The book became a best-seller in Canada and led to new charges against James, who has since pleaded guilty to sexual assault and will be sentenced in February.

Fleury, meanwhile, has become an advocate for sexual-abuse victims, and developed a career as a public speaker.

“I'm clean, but it's one day at a time,'' Fleury says. “I'm here to help others, to speak out and make sure people know there's help for them.

“It takes a brave man to take on a monster, but there's strength in numbers and they can support one another. The best healing that is done is when you have a group of men sitting around talking about their sexual abuse.

“To have your innocence taken away and then to fight back, it's an amazing journey. They can get there with help from all of us.”

Out of his personal hell, Sheldon Kennedy co-founded Respect Group Inc., which trains hundreds of thousands of coaches every year, a program that Hockey Canada has made mandatory for every one of its coaches.

“Maybe something good like that can come out of all these headlines, where people have the tools to recognize and act instead of being bystanders,” Kennedy says.

“We want to empower youth, coaches and parents, and change the imbalance of power, take the power back from those who use it against children. Take the initiative as an organization and mandate that everyone has to have the training.''

Men like Kennedy and Fleury do not pretend it is easy to come forward, tell the truth, face their accusers and clean up their lives, but that is precisely why they tell their stories.

“I didn't want to be a victim anymore. I wanted to get on with my life,'' Kennedy says. “It takes years of hard work and the lifelong scars don't go away, but once you take the power away from the abuser and give it back to yourself, you have a chance.

“I got sober, and I got my life back. It's an everyday process of checks and balances, but I feel good and there are positive things in my life.”

On this Christmas, Kennedy's wish is that all who have suffered can find that peace.

“Children come into this world with so much love, and with abuse they are robbed of the ability to love,” Kennedy says. “It's an attachment disorder. Emotionally, you shut down and never let anyone close. You can't love or be loved.

“But I'm proof that there is a way back. I'm proof that there is life after abuse. I'm proof that one day the men we have heard so much about lately will be able to live again. That's my wish for them.”

brozner@dailyherald.com

ŸHear Barry Rozner on WSCR 670-AM and follow him @BarryRozner on Twitter.