By JO MARIE BROWN
Scrawled across the road on the outskirts of Te Araroa, a spray-painted message saying "Euan Hovell child molestor" can clearly be seen through the thin coat of paint that tries to hide it.
The nearby telephone exchange and woolshed in the tiny East Coast town have also been
graffitied and then roughly painted over.
The messages are visible scars on a community that feels deeply betrayed. One of their most trusted and liked former teachers had terrorised two generations of boys that passed through Te Waha O Rerekohu School between 1966 and 1989.
"He was the bee's knees in this area. The kids loved him," one resident recalled.
"You used to watch him walking around the school with them holding his hand."
But for at least 10 boys - all but one of whom attended the school - Hovell was someone to be feared.
In the classroom, in the library, after school rugby trips and on his farm, Hovell would corner them and sexually abuse them - year in, year out.
This week he was sentenced to six years' imprisonment for his crimes against boys aged 5 to 15, crimes that spanned an astonishing 23 years.
His arrest and subsequent guilty pleas in August have rocked Te Araroa, which now numbers just a few hundred residents, many of whom are related to the prominent Hovell family.
Despite the small-town environment where everyone knows everyone else's business, the 68-year-old bachelor's predatory behaviour was exposed only after he attended a friend's funeral early last year.
There, standing in the cemetery, was one of Hovell's past victims - now aged in his 40s. Michael (not his real name) remembers suddenly seeing the teacher who had haunted him since childhood. Wrinkles had appeared on his face and his hair had greyed but Hovell was still a strong, intimidating man.
"Just towards the end when they were throwing the dirt on, I was standing there with my son next to me and Euan came up and said to me: 'Handsome-looking son. Gee, he looks really nice'. That was the worst thing he could have said to me."
Horrific memories of sexual abuse that Michael had spent his entire adolescence and adult life trying to block out came racing back.
Deciding that something had to be done in case other boys were still suffering at the hands of Hovell, Michael walked into the Gisborne police station and laid a complaint.
The ensuing investigation tracked down nine other men who also had been abused by Hovell and were willing to testify in court.
The fact that none of the victims had spoken out until now left many in Te Araroa struggling to accept the abuse could have happened.
But, as officer in charge of the case, Detective Glen Ingoe, points out, issues like sexual abuse weren't openly discussed in the past. Many of the boys felt they couldn't come forward at the time.
"It was a very traditional place, the Coast. Even in the 1950s it was probably more like the 1920s compared with the rest of New Zealand.
"Kids didn't say things and the schoolteacher was really well-respected in the community. They were a figure. It was a position that if you were a schoolteacher you were someone that was really looked up to," Detective Ingoe said.
Michael remembers being too afraid to tell anyone because Hovell had threatened to "do something" to his mother and father.
"That frightened me enough not to say anything. Especially when he's 6ft 3in or 4in [190-193cm] and you're only a little child."
Like many of the victims, Hovell abused Michael in the most repugnant place of all - the classroom. The boys were called up to have their work marked and, while sitting beside their teacher at his solid, wood-panelled desk, they were forced to fondle him and vice versa.
In some instances, Hovell even piled books up on his desk so the boys' facial expressions could not be seen by other students.
The experience ruined Michael's education and he struggles with writing and spelling as an adult.
"I didn't like being in classrooms after that happened. Females were all right but with male teachers I just felt claustrophobic and I was afraid to do my school work and my school work fell away. Then I'd get it in the neck from Mum and Dad but then I didn't say anything because of the threat."
Many of Hovell's other victims did not reach their potential either and have suffered anger, behavioural and emotional problems since.
As children, Detective Ingoe believes the boys would have struggled with the two sides of Hovell - one a kind man, the other their abuser.
"If you took out the sex abuse, you would have said what a great guy he was," Detective Ingoe said.
"He did a lot of things with kids. He took them out horse riding, he took them fishing and diving, he took them to swimming holes and out working on the farm. I mean, kids just love that; being out there on the farm doing stuff."
But the outings also allowed Hovell to be alone with his victims. Farm sheds, bushes and vehicles became places of misery for the boys who should have been having fun.
When Detective Ingoe arrived on Hovell's doorstep in Te Araroa this year, the retired teacher knew his secret was out.
"You could see it in his face. It was the knock on the door that he'd been dreading for 30 years."
Hovell confessed to what Michael had told police had occurred and even volunteered the names of other boys, who later joined the case against him.
"I think within himself he doesn't know why it happened or why he did it."
Detective Ingoe understands the difficulties many in Te Araroa have had in coming to terms with Hovell's downfall.
"He's an impressive guy to meet with a manner about him. He would have been a very charismatic person, I think, in his day."
One of nine siblings, Hovell played the saxophone in a local band and was a popular sportsman. Te Araroa was a close community and it was not unusual to see young children spending time with adults other than their parents.
But there were some in the community that have known since 1989 - or at least suspected - that all was not well. It was in that year that Hovell resigned from the school after several boys told their parents about the sexual abuse and the matter was investigated by police.
However, at the request of the victims and their families, criminal charges were never laid and the matter was not made public.
"The boys had gone through enough hell as it was and they were only young," one resident said.
The children were given counselling and Hovell quietly resigned from teaching and attended a rehabilitation programme in Otago.
His efforts to reform himself and his early guilty plea were the main reasons why he was sentenced to only six years' imprisonment on Tuesday rather than the nine or 10 years which the case might have otherwise called for.
After decades of silence, Michael says going to the police and seeing Hovell sent to prison has been a big step forward in repairing the damage.
"It's like lifting something off my mind that has been bugging me for years. It's something that I never thought could happen but because of my Christian beliefs and how we stand up for righteousness, that's why I did it. To help my family and to help myself."
But Michael's courage has not been welcomed by everyone and the case has caused considerable tension in Te Araroa over the past few months.
There are some who would rather have kept the closet shut and the hurried painting-over of the graffiti signs that emerged around town after Hovell's arrest is testimony to that.
Others have vented their anger towards Hovell by cutting down his farm fences and running stock off his land.
Michael says it is important the community and Hovell himself realise the enormity of what he has done.
"All I know is that I've done the right thing and to see those other guys come forward and back up exactly what I've said, that's probably been the thing that I've treasured the most," he said.
"My wife kept asking me why I couldn't forgive Euan. Well, I couldn't until he was brought to justice."
Two faces of a child abuser
By JO MARIE BROWN
Scrawled across the road on the outskirts of Te Araroa, a spray-painted message saying "Euan Hovell child molestor" can clearly be seen through the thin coat of paint that tries to hide it.
The nearby telephone exchange and woolshed in the tiny East Coast town have also been
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