NICOLA MILTZ
They all recall a simple message delivered to a WhatsApp group on an ordinary autumn morning in April during Pesach. It read: “Sidney Frankel is dead.” It was a day they will never forget.
It hit the “Frankel Eight” for a six. The news meant that the man they accused of the most heinous deeds, sordid details of which have been widely publicised and which at the time shocked the foundations of the Jewish community to its very core, would not be getting his day in court. Instead he would be taking his defiled reputation and the truth of his alleged actions with him to the grave. How convenient, they thought.
“I felt robbed, I felt cheated,” said Nicole Levenstein, one of the original Eight. Utterly deflated, she recalls her feelings: “How did he literally get away with murder in this life? People committed suicide over this, lives have been completely ruined.”
“It hit me for a loop,” said businessman Shane Rothquel, who lived at Arcadia Children’s Home during his alleged encounters with Frankel, who was then a patron. “I wanted to face him in court.”
“I felt as if I’d been kicked in the stomach,” said Daniela McNally of Chicago, in the US.
“I would have liked to have had a conversation with him, to have asked him how he could live with himself,” said Katherine Rosenberg of Cape Town.
They all agree: They wanted him to hear their stories. But this was not to be.
Paul Diamond, one of the first to come out said: “I felt a sense of emptiness because we had been on such a long legal road to enable us to face up to him. But I guess his true judge will now be his Master and in this case he will not be able to use the power of money to avoid his truth.”
Inextricably linked by their shared childhood pain, the Eight have since their “coming out” in 2015, formed an unshakeable bond, each believing that their legal battle to have justice prevail must continue.
Echoing each other’s sentiments, Katherine Rosenberg says: “It is important to press on with the case in order to reach closure. I want people to know he was guilty. I would like paedophiles to know that they can’t get away with it. My hope in the end is to have created enough awareness of the problem and to have encouraged people to be more open about the subject.”
According to Rothquel, the group shares a renewed sense of energy and hope that future victims of child abuse will be able to have their voices heard and that perpetrators will be brought to book.
In a potentially ground-breaking week, lawyers for the victims applied to the Constitutional Court to have the law changed so that abusers can in future be charged for crimes allegedly committed in the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s.
Unlike rape, compelled rape, child pornography and trafficking, which have no term of prescription in SA, sexual assault in this country is prescribed to 20 years.
While the legal proceedings unfolded before him in court, Shane Rothquel, 40, himself a lawyer, sat riveted in his seat astounded at how far he had come emotionally and spiritually since his days as a child at Arcadia.
“It has been a long and extremely painful journey for all of us. It is far from over. Abuse scars you for life. But to sit here in court and listen to our case being fought, feels like a victory in itself. This is no longer about Sidney Frankel, it is about the thousands of silent voices out there. It’s about righting a wrong and about correcting the course of justice in our country.”
Miranda Friedmann of Women and Men Against Child Abuse (WMACA) said: “What is important here is that we get an order made by the High Court that allows all children to bring cases of sexual violence at any time to a criminal court – this case has highlighted this unconstitutional restriction.”
Lisa Wegner said: “I wanted him to acknowledge what he did to me. I wanted the chance to meet him again, look at him, tell him what damage he caused and hear how he was going to explain himself and his actions. I wanted him to apologise, ask for forgiveness and make good on the wrong he caused.”
She lives in hope of seeing the prescription law changed.
“It has taken so much courage to come out, it would be a shame to stop this process now that we have come so far,” she said.
Levenstein is comforted by the fact that all the survivors, herself included, have experienced a remarkable shift in their journey to recovery. “I see a great sense of personal empowerment taking place. There is such strength and a brotherhood among us and seeing each one of us implement positive life changes has been wonderful.”
As if in unison they all agree that the case has the power to “send a message” to all paedophiles to “watch out” – you will be reported and you will face the full force of the law.
“It has also come into people’s homes and awakened parents to the realities, having the effect of changing how parents communicate with and listen to their children,” said Levenstein.
Daniela McNally was initially bitterly disappointed at the news of Frankel’s death. “I would have liked to have seen his face when he saw me, his realisation that I had the guts to come forward. I wanted to ask him what made it okay to molest children and how could he live with himself?”
She feels differently now. “We have come so far. If we give up now it will be sending a message to the world that it is okay to molest children. Justice must be served. We need to press on and see laws changed. I am a new person. I am not scared of anything anymore. I feel strong and alive.
Whatever acting Judge Claire Hartford decides, the “Frankel Eight” wait with bated breath for the outcome of what might become known as the Frankel Law.
