Collusion, cover-ups and conspiracies are usually the domain of Hollywood writers, the naive and the slightly nutty. Except, that is, when they are true.
In recent times senior police have condemned leaders of the Catholic Church for failure to co-operate with investigations into sexual assaults by clergy members.
About two years ago Victoria's then deputy commissioner (and now new Chief Commissioner) Graham Ashton told a state parliamentary inquiry, "The processes of the Catholic Church are designed to put the reputation of the church first and the victims second".
But the terrible truth is that for decades police were part of the problem, with key officers actively working for the church and against fellow officers investigating rogue priests.
They were known as the Catholic mafia – men who covered up crimes, tipped off the church and allowed sex offenders to continue molesting children – all in the name of protecting their religious institution.
Some were local sub officers that stood over younger police. One became a commander and had state-wide influence and yet another was a key member of the CIB and monitored major investigations.
And if there is a God they must have all gone to hell in the express lane.
Some issues were relatively minor. A recently retired officer remembers, "During the early 1970s Catholic priests were bullet-proof. I recall even in the early 1980s one of my constables booked a priest for speeding and was forced to withdraw the ticket after being lectured about the correct procedures by the (extremely Catholic) senior sergeant."
Others were nothing short of conspiracies to pervert the course of justice where police protected sexual predators and allowed them to continue to offend.
There were at least six of them – primary-school kids from Coburg, who separately presented at doctors with injuries consistent with sexual molestation.
All told police a similar story of being assaulted by the local priest, identified the make and model of his car and individually took detectives to a room off the presbytery where the offences allegedly occurred.
In that room police found items that corroborated the victims' stories.
When he was arrested the priest rang a bishop and by the time the detectives had taken him to the watchhouse a senior policeman was waiting.
He told the investigators he required a brief of evidence before the priest could be charged. They countered that they had enough to lock him up immediately. The senior man ordered they release him and complete the brief for review. When they did it was not authorised and the priest was never charged.
The man of the cloth was moved to another parish and although there is no evidence he re-offended his papers were marked "Not to do Mass with altar boys."
The most scandalous case of police cover-up is that of Mildura serial sex offender Monsignor John Day.
A dogged detective by the name of Denis Ryan (a devout Catholic) pursued the priest, eventually taking statements from 12 child victims.
His reward was to be kicked off the case and eventually forced to resign. Ryan says in his book, Unholy Trinity, he believes Day sexually assaulted more than 100 children.
Day was eventually removed from Mildura by the church and rewarded with a world trip before being dumped on another Victorian parish.
When he died Bishop Ronald Mulkearns (who was well aware of the truth) said Day "faithfully fulfilled his ministry in God's name".
Mulkearns is the same bishop accused in the child abuse royal commission of covering up complaints against Father Gerald Ridsdale by moving the child molester from parish to parish.
One of the worst paedophile priests was Michael Charles Glennon and one of Australia's most respected sex crimes investigators was Detective Senior Sergeant Chris O'Connor. Their paths would cross more than once.
In 1985 O'Connor was part of the team that charged Glennon with sex crimes that saw him jailed.
In 1996 as head of the Child Exploitation Squad, O'Connor oversaw another investigation into Glennon – this time involving 17 victims.
The serial sex offender was due for release in November 1997 and as Glennon had previously offended while on bail O'Connor decided to charge him before he was freed.
Then a senior lawyer (a Catholic) in the Office of Public Prosecutions intervened, questioning why the charges were laid. Senior police accused O'Connor of running a vendetta against the priest and the charges were withdrawn.
When a senior officer was told Glennon was likely to re-offend if freed, he said that was irrelevant.
Glennon, who refused sex counselling in prison, was freed and after a legal review lasting five months, the charges were re-instigated.
After a six year legal battle he was convicted on all counts. He died in jail in 2014.
In 1999, police investigating a criminal damage case in a Catholic Church found the offender was a man "paying back" the priest who molested him.
When the priest was arrested on the day before Good Friday, he made one phone call – to Archbishop George Pell.
"By the time we got the priest back to the station, a QC had already rung to say he was representing him and told him to make no comment," said one of the investigators.
He could have had the Pope on the line for all the good it did. Police had already secretly recorded a conversation between the victim and the priest where the offender made damning admissions.
He pleaded guilty, was supported in court with a wonderful character reference by former Archbishop Frank Little and received a suspended sentence. He remained a priest and was sent overseas before quietly returning.
After the arrest was logged in the police computer, the arresting officer received three anonymous calls from colleagues describing her as "a disgrace".
It is not just the Catholic Church that failed miserably. The Salvation Army has paid more than $15 million in compensation for victims of abuse in its children's homes.
There were 470 claims of abuse with 50 officers named as offenders.
By far the worst was the Bayswater Boys' Home – described in one inquiry as a "nest of paedophiles".
The consequences to the victims were terrible and to the wider community ongoing.
In 1974 Bobby Barron killed two Salvation Army officers in a random attack. Barron spent some of his childhood in the Bayswater home.
Another "student" at the home was one of the key crime figures behind the 1986 Russell Street Bombing that killed police constable Angela Taylor and injured 21 others people.
There was once a deep-seated culture of cover-up where institutions' reputations were more important than individual justice.
It was only in the 1970s that police established the Internal Investigations Department. Before then, bent cops were ignored, transferred or, if totally out of control, encouraged to resign.
There was an unofficial "don't ask, don't tell" policy, where good cops would never talk to bad cops about their jobs for fear they would be sold out. But no-one ever made a complaint against a fellow officer as it was a breach of the Brotherhood.
At least now police have established the Sano Taskforce, a group of investigators who deal with historical allegations of child sex abuse involving religious and non-government organisations.
In many cases, because of the age of the offences, the specially trained detectives can't launch prosecutions because the perpetrators have died. But the victims at least know they are believed and their cases will not be buried, even if the offenders already have been.
Despite all the cover ups, justice can move in mysterious ways.
In the late 1950s, the sole detective for the eastern region of Gippsland, Don Cadby, was called to a small rural police station to find the local copper consoling a country vet.
Cadby later told another policeman, "The vet explained he had returned home for lunch early and found his wife in the cot with the local Catholic priest. Enraged, he sought revenge in typical vet style."
This involved an attempt at the type of surgery used to geld slow racehorses and calm male livestock.
According to our police source, "Cadby and the vet then went to the crime scene and there was sufficient evidence to confirm the story."
"A check of the presbytery revealed a clean house with little if any clothing left. Inquires were made with the Diocese at Sale and Cadby was advised they thought the priest may have had an urgent call to return to Ireland.
"Cadby told the vet 'to patch up his relationship with the wife and, if there was a formal complaint, he would then be interviewed'.
"I did scan Cadby's diaries for the period and found a scant entry to the effect of "travel to [country town] re complaint of assault – no victim, inquiries pending."
