Andrea Logan was just six years' old when Fr Oliver O'Grady moved to her parish in California. Over five years, the now defrocked Irish cleric would systematically rape and sodomise the young girl and her two brothers.

Now aged 35 and a married mother of four, Andrea says the abuse has had an immeasurable impact on every aspect of her life.

"I will never know the person I was meant to be because of what happened. Oliver O'Grady and the Catholic church took my innocence, my childhood, my future," she told the Sunday Tribune. Andrea no longer has a meaningful relationship with either of her brothers – the siblings' relationships did not survive the impact of O'Grady's attacks.

The paedophile cleric did the unthinkable: he forced Andrea and her younger brother to watch as he sodomised the other. Then he went even further. He forced brother and sister to carry out sex acts on each other.

"He made me do things with my younger brother. That destroyed our relationship. We don't all have family Christmases together," she explains. "It is a horrific thing to rape and molest a child. But it's even worse to force family members to do it to each other. It's unspeakable. My brother and I cannot talk about it. It's like being raped by a family member."

Two months ago, the diocese of Stockton in California settled a legal action taken against it by Andrea and her younger brother over the abuse
O'Grady inflicted in Presentation parish in California in the 1980s.

After a number of hearings, the diocese settled the case. Her brother was awarded $1.5m while Andrea was awarded $500,000. Because of the statute of limitations, Andrea was entitled to less compensation than her brother. Her elder brother has a separate legal action against the diocese over O'Grady's abuse.

It wasn't until Andrea was in her late 20s that she began to have flashbacks of her encounters with the cleric.

"I remember he had a very distinctive body odour, a bad smell. He was always sweating. I was in an elevator beside someone who smelt like him and lots of memories came flooding back," she says.

"We were in the Catholic school attached to the parish. He used to come into the school and talk to us kids. He called me his sweetheart. He would phone the teacher from the rectory and ask for children to be sent over to him on some errand. All the kids liked him. He showed a lot of interest in us. Now I know why. I remember once my brother bit him and he got in trouble with the principal, but he was angry and couldn't express it. He would get us to come by the church before and after school."

O'Grady abused Andrea at every opportunity, in every conceivable place. Frequently, the attacks took place inside church and sometimes even in the confessional box, and all over her school, including the hallways and bathrooms.

"I remember the feeling that something was wrong. I remember being paralysed with fear. But we were taught you had to obey the priest. Sometimes, the attacks would be two or three times a week. I used to come home from school and hide my underwear. I also kept asking my mother could I wear tights instead of socks. He was always around. I never said anything to anyone. I still ask myself why I didn't sometimes."

Because of the abuse, Andrea hated school and after O'Grady left her parish she didn't excel academically. But the emotional impact was more severe. She had problems forming relationships, particularly with men.

"I was always terrified of men and boys. I didn't want to date when I was growing up. I was 21 before I had consensual sex," she says. "After being intimate with someone, I would feel ashamed and dirty. I still sometimes feel that way now with my husband."

O'Grady was deported to Ireland in 2000 after spending seven years in prison in the US for sexually abusing two boys. He still lives here. He has admitted to abusing over 25 in depositions, but has only been convicted for abuse against two boys. Dozens of victims of the former cleric have since come forward.

The former priest achieved notoriety when he agreed to feature in a documentary, Deliver Us From Evil, and discuss his sexual abuse of children. In the film, it was evident O'Grady was clueless about the destruction his actions have caused. He said in the documentary he hoped to someday meet up with all his victims, who he hoped would shake his hand "or maybe even give me a hug".

"I heard he said he would like to give us a hug. I would dare that man to come and try and give me a hug," says Andrea. "I'm not a child anymore. I would drop him so fast with a knee to the crotch."

But Andrea's anger extends far beyond the defrocked cleric. She is appalled at how high-ranking clergy moved O'Grady around when he began to abuse children. "They are worse, as far as I'm concerned. As evil as O'Grady is – at least he has an excuse that he is a sick man. But what it their excuse?"

Andrea's legal action lasted six, long years. She says apologies she received from high-ranking clergy mean "less than nothing" because they fought her every step of the way. "A bishop said to me, 'money won't heal you'. I said, 'no it won't. But it could make my life easier.' I wanted enough money to move away from Stockton where all this happened. But I can't. After lawyers' fees, I was left with €300,000. I refused to sign their confidentially clause too."

At her last mediation hearing, when compensation was finally decided upon, Andrea addressed a series of questions to Bishop Stephen Blair of the Stockton diocese as well as a monsignor and nun present: "Do you know what it feels like to be a seven-year-old child and have a grown man put his penis in your mouth? Do you know what it feels like to have a grown man ejaculate in your mouth when you're a child? Do you know how it feels for a seven-year-old to be forcibly held to the floor while a man sodomises you? They needed to hear it. I don't believe in God. How could I when men of God put me through this?"