Editorial: In Hastert case, a victim's silence emphasizes power of misplaced shame in sex abuse

A particular phrase struck us with some force when we read letters of support for former U.S. House Speaker J. Dennis Hastert prior to his sentencing on fraud charges.

"He doesn't deserve what he is going through," wrote former House Majority Leader Tom DeLay.

What a chilling assessment of the circumstances facing someone who would be described at his sentencing just days later as "a serial child molester."

We cannot deny that the situation facing Hastert, of Plano, breaks our hearts. As the Republican Party's longest-serving House speaker in history, he was a figure of ultimate trust in an organization where trust is a very limited commodity. He was dedicated. He was hardworking. He sought to bring people together.

And, we now know, he also was a "serial child molester." A man who not only did not merit the trust placed in him as one of the nation's top government leaders, but who directly and critically violated the trust placed in him by young adolescent boys for whom he was a responsible guardian and role model.

That people of all professions "have our flaws" - to borrow another DeLay phrase - cannot be denied, of course, so we judge each other at our own peril. But let's not ignore the fact that the behaviors that Hastert was trying to cover up rose well above a mere personality flaw. This was not being too quick to anger. This was not being lazy in one's work. This was not being an obnoxious drunk,

This was a criminal act. And committed not only once but repeatedly.

True, for the particular cases that we now know of, the legal statute of limitations has passed, so the precise circumstances cannot be tried in open court. But what we know is shocking enough, and U.S. District Judge Thomas M. Durkin obviously took that into account in handing down the 15-month prison sentence for the elderly Hastert's conviction on charges of simply improperly structuring his bank withdrawals.

There was a time when we, along with many, perhaps most, Americans would have said that if Denny Hastert couldn't be trusted, who could? Now, it will take us some time to recover from the cynicism his case naturally stirs. In the process, we will reflect on whether very similar thoughts might have been going through the minds of those young boys at Yorkville High School in their interactions with their wrestling coach. If Coach Hastert couldn't be trusted, who could?

Their discovery about their coach led to permanent scars, scars with which they lived for decades while he went on to a life of wealth, power and prestige. Imagine: If a man can do these things and later ascend to the state legislature and then to the Congress and then ultimately to two heartbeats away from the presidency, what does that say about the toll his crimes took on his victims - that even those high profiles didn't break open his secret? If some people question the degree of the wreckage such assaults leave, let them consider that.

Our shock, our surprise, in the end underscores what an abominable travesty Hastert committed. But we must get beyond shock and think of the trusting young people who without question did not deserve the injustice they endured.

"Most importantly, I want my children and anyone else who was ever treated the way I was to know that there is an alternative to staying in silence," Scott Cross told the court Wednesday. "It is important to tell the truth finally. I could no longer remain silent."

Those may be the most important words to take from this sad and sordid case. We should use them to move beyond shock and cynicism and toward a different environment, one that encourages victims to feel confident about coming forward.

One, indeed, in which it is the abusers, not the victims, who feel shame - and who know they deserve it.