On October 11, 1965, Tapia was summoned back to Rome. This woman who had brought many members into Opus Dei and had established clinics in poor neighborhoods, besides a center of studies, who had brought financial stability to the women’s branch and had sent numeraries as missionaries to other countries, was to face humiliation, abject fear and loneliness in return for her efforts, because all had not been done according to Opus Dei’s rules.

She was kept under surveillance, which became stricter month after month until eventually she was eating her meals in her room, with one woman on guard with her and another outside the door. She wasn’t allowed to go to chapel.

Interrogation followed interrogation about what she had done to disgrace the community. For one thing she had told her women they could go to confession to any Opus Dei priest they wanted, and if none were around, to any priest with faculties.

Tapia’s health deteriorated under the pressure of suspicion and isolation, which drove her to think of suicide, as had others, but she dismissed the temptation. On Christmas, she was not given a single card, though she knew she had received at least eight.

In May, Tapia was called in for having given a letter to a numerary, Gladys, to mail to a friend in Venezuela. Gladys was summoned, as well.

At the conclusion of Escriva’s tirade, she was dismissed, and he shouted to the directress: "After this, take that one (meaning Gladys), lift up her skirt, take down her panties, and whack her on the behind until she talks. MAKE HER TALK".

To Tapia, he shouted, "You’re a wicked woman, sleazy, scum!"

After months of interrogations and solitary confinement, Monsignor Escriva summoned Tapia for the latest insult: "Either you request your release or bring dishonor to everyone, including yourself. There is no other solution for you but the street! Out!"

She was instructed to write a letter to Escriva saying that she had been happy in Opus Dei, but now felt unable to live the life of the Work.

After that, she was told she must go to confession to Fr. Joaquin Alonso, who warned her that she should live a life of penance, prayer and reparation, and even so, he doubted that she would receive eternal salvation.

On the morning Tapia left, she appeared before Escriva for the last time, who told her that if she spoke out against Opus Dei, he would publicly disgrace her and her family on the front page of every newspaper.

Throughout the community, the founder’s temper tantrums were both known and feared, but nothing could have prepared Tapia for his final slanderous abuse: "You’re wicked! Wicked! Indecent! Hear me well. Whore! Sow!"

Tapia was paralyzed, as if in a nightmare, though in her mind, while Escriva was shouting, she said she thought of Jesus, silent before his accusers, and that God had liberated her.

Later, when she went to confession to a Dominican priest, he asked her, "May I ask you one question? How do you go on believing in God?"

Tapia answered, "Because God has nothing to do with Opus Dei.

Eventually, Tapa found employment at the Education Abroad Program of the University of California in Santa Barbara, California.

We owe more to our young people than simply exposing Opus Dei’s danger to their spiritual and mental health; we owe them spiritual nourishment in the family, parish and on the college campus. TV sitcoms and designer jeans won’t fill hungry hearts.

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