Bob Tombari of Groton says that when he was a fifth-grader at St. Joseph’s School in New London, the late Rev. Kenneth Flint reached into his pants and fondled him in the hallway of the school.

Tombari said he reported the incident to the Diocese of Norwich in 2002 and then again in 2016, at which time the diocese offered to pay for his counseling sessions with a Willimantic psychologist, who he said the diocese told him it “often used for these types of problems."

But when the diocese in February released a list of 43 clergy affiliated with the diocese who have “allegations of substance” lodged against them involving the sexual assault of minors, Flint wasn't on it.

The Day also has identified six priests and brothers accused of sexual assault of minors who are not on the list. The diocese has said that to be included on the list, the victim had to be under 18 at the time of the alleged abuse, there needed to be a formal report made to the diocese (“please refer to the January 7th, 2019 letter that went out to parishioners regarding the reporting process”) and the allegation “needed to have substance.”

Last month, the diocese revised its list by adding three priests and removing one, Richard J. Cardarelli, who it said was included on the original “in error.” Bishop Michael Cote, who heads the Diocese of Norwich, declined to be interviewed for this story. 

Unlike some other dioceses in the state and across the country, the Norwich Diocese has not provided any information about what parishes the accused priests served at. The diocese also has not described the allegations against those on the list or whether the diocese or its employees reported the sexual assaults to police or the state Department of Children and Families, which has been required under state law since 1971.

Cote has said the diocese has paid out $7.6 million in settlements to alleged victims. However, attorneys Robert and Kelly Reardon of New London say they have secured $8.1 million, and Thomas McNamara of New Haven says he has secured $552,000, in settlements for their clients who were victims of diocesan priest abuse — for a total of $8.6 million, a $1 million discrepancy. Since the diocese released the settlement amount, it has paid out another $900,000.

Victims speak publicly for the first time

Tombari is among those who have contacted The Day since the release of the list. Some have not wanted to speak on the record.

Tombari, now 75, grew up in Waterford, where his father was a physician at the former Seaside Regional Center. After graduating from Norwich Tech, he said he lived in California for 19 years before moving back to Montville in 1980.

Tombari said that one day at St. Joseph’s School he was walking to the bathroom when Flint approached him in the middle of the hallway opposite the nurse’s office. Tombari recalls it was a partly cloudy spring day and sun was streaming in the hallway.

“I can still picture it very plainly,” he said.

Tombari said students had nicknamed Flint “Frosty” because he appeared to be very serious and walked with his head held high with an air of self-importance.

Tombari said that Flint walked up to him, used his left hand to pull Tombari's belt buckle away from his waist and then placed his right hand down the front of Tombari's pants, grabbing his penis.

Flint then removed his hand, turned and walked down the hallway toward the entrance that led to the rectory.

“I just looked at him in a state of shock,” Tombari recalled.

Tombari went to the bathroom and then headed back to class.

“To a 10-year-old boy raised as a Catholic, the priest is the authority figure. What do you do? I didn’t say anything about this for many years,” he said.

Tombari said his parents were good friends with Flint and often hosted him for dinners and trips to the beach at the house they lived in at Seaside. This meant Tombari had to continue to be around Flint for years after he left St. Joseph’s School.

“Had I gone home and told my parents, I would have been called a liar, had my mouth washed out with soap and sent to bed without dinner. And that would have been just the beginning,” he said.” My parents would have said, ‘How can you say that about a priest?’”

Flint, then the pastor at St. Paul Church in Waterford, officiated the wedding of Tombari's sister.

Tombari said that it was in the early 2000s, when news began breaking about the abuse of minors by priests in the Boston archdiocese, that he thought a long time about the incident and called the diocese to report what occurred.

“Ever since that incident, I’ve felt his pressure. I felt he was standing next to my right shoulder looking down at me. I feel him right now,” said Tombari, sitting in the living room of his Groton home.

Then in 2016, he reported it again.

This time he said he was transferred to several people before a nun asked him if he wanted counseling. Although he said the diocese told him it would cover the cost, he still ended up responsible for about $200 in uncovered bills.

'A common pattern'

Dr. Ronald Anderson, a Willimantic clinical psychologist, confirmed to The Day that he treated Tombari for 18 months beginning in May 2016 and that the diocese paid for the treatment. Anderson, who said he also has treated clergy members accused of abuse, said the incident may have resulted when Flint gave in to temptation and then decided against it.

“What stood out to me is Bob didn’t really have an adult he could turn to or an adult protector. This is a common pattern you see. The abusers are often adept at singling out kids who look lonely or are neglected. They are easy targets and less likely to blow the whistle on them,” Anderson said.

In Tombari’s case, his parents were good friends with Flint and Anderson said Tombari’s mother would have blamed him for the encounter if he had said anything.

“In certain households, priests are revered,” Anderson said.

While Tombari said the counseling helped, he said he still is angry about what happened to him. “What’s always in my mind is 'What did I do to encourage this event?' It weighs on me today, even with the counseling,” he said.

Tombari said he may return to counseling because, as he grows older, the memories continue to wear on him.

Tombari said he would like the General Assembly to approve a pending bill that would abolish the statute of limitations, which currently gives victims only until the age of 48 to file a lawsuit. The limit prevents him and others from suing the diocese. A hearing on the bill has been scheduled for Monday at 10 a.m. in Room 2C of the Legislative Office Building in Hartford.

Asked if he plans to testify if it gets to a public hearing before the Judiciary Committee, Tombari said, “you betcha.”

“I’d like a settlement. What’s it worth for 65 years of misery and self-incrimination and asking ‘What did I do?’ The self-blame for no reason,” he said.

As for why he went public now with his story, Tombari said, “I needed to talk about it. I need closure but I don’t think I will ever get it. There’s no money out there that will ever compensate me for this.”

j.wojtas@theday.com