A pedophile priest. A $10-million payout.

— A monster who won’t leave my life

Lawyers John Manly, left, and Morgan Stewart, who have represented sex-abuse survivors for over 20 years, at their law offices in Irvine.

By Gustavo Arellano

Most reporters have covered a story so disturbing that they never want to think about it again — yet the evil subject makes it impossible to ever forget.

My cross to bear is Father Eleuterio Ramos.

The Montebello native terrorized Catholic parishes in Orange and Los Angeles counties during the 1970s and 1980s, once admitting to detectives that he had molested “at least” 25 boys. Church officials knew about Ramos’ depravity almost from the beginning of his career, yet never turned him over to law enforcement or even removed him from the ministry. Instead, they moved him from parish to parish until the Diocese of Orange asked the Diocese of Tijuana in 1985 to accept him — after he confessed to having “slipped,” according to a church memo.

The Orange diocese settled five sex abuse lawsuits against Ramos during the 1990s. Eleven lawsuits were still pending when Ramos died 20 years ago this March at age 65. I was a young reporter at the time. The Catholic Church sex abuse scandal was my first big story — and Ramos was my Moby Dick.

I interviewed many of his victims, shared tips and photos with the lawyers who were trying to find his whereabouts just like I was, and read through hundreds of pages of once-secret personnel files. They revealed in excruciating detail not just Ramos’ sex crimes but the sin of silence practiced by his superiors. He was the subject of the longest story of my career — over 10,000 words — in late 2005 and dozens of articles in the years that followed.

Yet long after my regular coverage petered out, Ramos remains in my life.

He’s there every time I attend a baptism, wedding or funeral at St. Anthony Claret in Anaheim, a church frequented by people from my ancestral ranchos in Zacatecas that is the last O.C. parish where Ramos served. Every couple of years, a Ramos victim finds my work on their molester and reaches out to thank me. Any time I’ve had an urge to return to the Catholic Church, I remember why I stopped attending Mass in the first place: my disgust at the local bishops and monsignors who let Ramos molest with impunity.

Ramos has cast such a specter over me that when I received a text from attorney John Manly that his firm had reached a large settlement in a clerical sex abuse case, I immediately guessed who the perpetrator was.

The plaintiff alleged that Ramos and another priest, Siegfried Widera, molested him while he attended Immaculate Heart of Mary in Santa Ana during the 1970s and 1980s. Church leaders in Orange and Los Angeles counties did nothing to stop the abuse, despite repeated warnings from parishioners, staff and even a fellow priest, the lawsuit alleged.

The $10-million settlement, finalized in December, requires the Archdiocese of Los Angeles, where Ramos began his career and which had jurisdiction over Catholic churches in Orange County until 1976, to pay $500,000. The Orange diocese will cover the other $9.5 million.

Through Manly, the plaintiff declined to speak to me. The Times does not identify victims of sexual abuse without their consent.

In a statement, spokesperson Jarryd Gonzales said that the Orange diocese “deeply regrets any past incidences of sexual abuse,” adding that “the allegations in this case date back more than 40 years and do not reflect the Diocese of Orange as it stands today.”

Archdiocese of Los Angeles spokesperson Yannina Diaz said she couldn’t comment on the terms of the settlement, which was finalized in December. The archdiocese “stands against any sexual misconduct and is resolute in our support for victim-survivors of abuse regardless of when the abuse occurred,” she said.

The recent settlement is Manly, Stewart & Finaldi’s largest involving an individual plaintiff in a sex abuse case against the Catholic church and one of nearly 4,000 cases filed against Catholic dioceses across California under a 2020 state law that opened a three-year window for sex abuse victims to sue, with no statute of limitations. Manly, who with his law partner, Morgan Stewart, has spent nearly the past quarter-century suing the Catholic Church in California and beyond, is handling over 200 of those cases, 25 of them against the Orange diocese.

Nine of the lawsuits name Ramos.

An attorney accompanied by female clients.
Attorney John Manly, left, announces a nine-figure settlement in the cases of former patients of longtime UCLA gynecologist/oncologist James Heaps in 2022.

I recently visited Manly and Stewart at their law offices, which take up the eighth floor of an Irvine high-rise. The lobby and conference room feature newspaper and magazine clippings from a career pursuing some of the most notorious sex abuse cover ups of this century. The Archdiocese of Los Angeles. Miramonte Elementary in South L.A. The Boy Scouts. Gynecologists at USC and UCLA. USA Gymnastics.

Thousands of clients. Over $1.5 billion in settlements.

Manly and Stewart sat at opposite ends of a huge table along with Courtney Thom, a former Orange County sex crimes prosecutor who joined their firm three years ago. I’ve known the two men for 20 years now, and they really haven’t changed. Manly remains the loud one with a wicked sense of humor and the bluster of a defensive line coach, while Stewart is still the quiet-yet-forceful voice of reason.

We exchanged our usual pleasantries, then got down to the business that seemed to reunite us every couple of years.

“I’m up to 62 [Ramos] victims,” Stewart said. “Every f— place that had a school, they placed him there.”

“You have all these connecting pieces, and church leaders didn’t do anything,” Manly interjected. Then he threw his hands over his head. “Well, they did worse than that. They actively concealed.”

Manly first heard about Ramos in the late 1990s, when he was deposing then-Orange Bishop Norman McFarland — who presided over my First Communion — in another sex abuse case. At one point, McFarland named one of Ramos’ victims, a friend of Manly who had graduated alongside him at Mater Dei but never told him about the abuse.

Manly asked for a break. He went to the bathroom and vomited.

“That event is the reason I stopped going to Mass,” he said.

In late 2004, his firm settled five Ramos cases against the Orange diocese as part of a $100-million settlement involving 87 victims — at the time, the largest settlement against a Catholic diocese in the U.S. They moved on to other cases, but Ramos’ pervasiveness and perversity haunted the two.

“He’s a case study of how to molest boys,” said Stewart.

“The thing about Ramos is that he’s so relentless at what he did, and so blatant,” Manly added. “He never stopped hiding things at all.”

Lawyer Morgan Stewart
Morgan Stewart, pictured, and John Manly have represented sex-abuse survivors for over 20 years at their law offices in Irvine. Their firm currently has over 200 cases against the Catholic dioceses of Orange and Los Angeles counties.

Taking on more Ramos cases allowed Stewart to find new evidence of how far church officials went to cover up for the priest. Personnel files showed that the Orange diocese removed Ramos from Immaculate Heart of Mary and sent him to a Massachusetts recovery facility for Catholic priests — for alleged alcoholism. Stewart got a sworn affidavit from Ramos’ counselor at the facility, who said she had recommended that he not return to the ministry.

“If you know anything about Ramos, you know the depth of hurt he caused,” Manly exclaimed, his angry voice ringing in the conference room. Stewart and Thom nodded. “So why did they keep him? People kept threatening to call the police. There’s all this reporting, and nothing.”

I, too, found new connections going through my Ramos files. I once uncovered a 1975 Archdiocese of Los Angeles memo addressed to a Monsignor Hawkes, recommending that Ramos enter psychological care at the suggestion of “the district attorney as a result of a recent incident.”

Reading it again, I realized who the monsignor was: Benjamin Hawkes, long one of the most powerful men in the Archdiocese of Los Angeles and someone who church officials concluded had molested boys and settled with two of his victims.

Ramos remains the gift that keeps on giving — gifts no one should ever want to receive.

After speaking to them for about an hour, I asked Manly and Stewart if going after monsters like Ramos ever weighed on them.

“What am I going to do?” Manly deadpanned. “Sell hot dogs?” Then he got serious.

“For 25 years, I’ve made close friends, and I think our work has changed the world.” Going after sex abuses “was my vocation,” Manly said.

“I don’t intend to stop,” Stewart added. “I spoke to 10 survivors this morning. What keeps me going is every one of those expressed their gratitude. They’ll say, ‘When I see your name in the paper, I say, ‘I’m proud you’re my lawyer.’ You see these people that need a voice, and you give it to them.”

“I wreck every cocktail party when I tell them what I do,” Manly cracked, unable to resist another joke, because that’s the type of guy he is. Then he grew quiet.

“But like the saying goes, you want to be on the side of the angels.”

Complete Article HERE!

Catholic clergy in Uganda accuse the West of a new colonialism through LGBTQ activism

— Most Ugandan Catholics oppose Pope Francis’ recent move to allow priests to administer blessings to same-sex couples.

A nun reflects during a solemn moment as Pope Francis leads a Holy Mass for the Martyrs of Uganda at the area of the Catholic Sanctuary in the Namugongo area of Kampala, Uganda, on Nov. 28, 2015.

By

Gilbert Lubega sat in a white plastic chair at his home in Wakiso, a suburb of Uganda’s capital, Kampala, contemplating two photos of a young gay female couple kissing and another one of a male gay couple kissing at their wedding ceremony.

“These images make me think the world is coming to an end,” he said. “They are things you can’t imagine happening, and people blindly support them.”

The 55-year-old father of six, who owns a food kiosk in Wakiso, blamed the West for invading his culture and destroying its values. He believes foreign governments are sponsoring LGBTQ people and their activities in the country.

“The people who call themselves LGBTQ activists are now recruiting many people, including our children,” Lubega said. “They don’t know what they are doing, but they are destroying people’s lives by engaging them in unethical activities. The West want to make our country Sodom and Gomorrah, and we won’t accept it.”

Uganda, in red, located in eastern Africa. Image courtesy of Creative Commons
Uganda, in red, located in eastern Africa.

Last year in May, Ugandan President Yoweri Museveni signed into law a measure calling for life imprisonment for anyone convicted of same-sex activity. The law also calls for the death penalty for “aggravated homosexuality,” which involves cases of same-sex relations involving people who are HIV positive, children and other vulnerable people.

Many LGBTQ Ugandans have since fled to neighboring countries to escape homophobia.

Lubega, who wants the government to ban LGBTQ rights groups, is a staunch Catholic, and like many of his co-religionists opposes Pope Francis’ recent move to allow priests to administer blessings to same-sex couples. The organization of Catholic bishops in Africa and Madagascar stated earlier this month that they will refuse to follow Francis’ declaration.

The bishop of Lira Diocese, the Rt. Rev. Sanctus Lino Wanok, has launched a campaign against all forms of LGBTQ identity or activism in northern Uganda, calling LGBTQ advocates to repent and seek God’s blessings.

“It’s shameful to see some people promoting sin and luring people to join in committing sin,” Wanok told RNS. “People must not accept homosexuality because it’s a mockery of God, our creator.”

They are among the religious leaders, government officials and some rights group activists who have blamed the West for promoting LGBTQ acceptance in the country, saying the activities have recently increased with pro-gay activists targeting school-going children.

A Catholic LGBTQ activist who asked for anonymity for his safety praised Francis’ declaration permitting priests to offer blessings to same-sex couples. However, he said the pope approval has only prompted the government and citizens to increase attacks on their members.

He said families have disowned LGBTQ members, churches have given strict instructions not to allow them in the church’s compounds, landlords have evicted them and some have lost jobs.

“We live in fear because we cannot identify as gay, lesbian or transgender,” said the activist. “Pope Francis should give clear instructions to bishops and priests to allow LGBTQ members to worship God and nourish their spirits.”

The Western world has for years called on African governments to give LGBTQ people equal rights by decriminalizing same-sex sexual acts and protecting their rights.

In June last year, the United States imposed visa restrictions on dozens of Uganda officials in response to the country’s anti-gay laws.

“As Africans, we should be very careful and not accept everything white people tell us,” warned catechist Charles Kiwuwa from the Archdiocese of Tororo in the eastern region of Uganda in an interview with RNS. “They have told us that polygamy is a sin because they know most Africans embrace it and that homosexuality is righteousness because we disagree.”

The Catholic leaders have begun a countrywide campaign to fight “agents of homosexuality” in the country who they believe are being supported by foreign governments to spread LGBTQ activism in schools and other institutions. The church leaders have expressed concern over increasing cases of same-sex attraction among the youth and school-going children, accusing these agents of luring school children with money and other luxurious gifts to recruit them.

“As a church, we have decided to fight homosexuality to save our children and the country from collapsing because the Bible teaches us that homosexuality is evil, as read in Genesis Chapters 18 and 19,” the Rev. Richard Nyombi told RNS.

Nyombi, the parish priest of Mapeera Nabulagala in Kampala, said religious leaders had fought same-sex attraction from time immemorial, both in the Bible and today, and they are unwilling to allow foreign culture to influence the country.

“We are preaching against homosexuality during Mass and other gatherings to help our brothers and sisters not fall prey to the vice and for those who have already been lured into the practice to repent and follow God’s way,” he said.

Many Ugandan LGBTQ refugees at Kakuma Refugee Camp in Kenya are seeking safety after escaping homophobic attacks in Uganda. Refugees demonstrate at the UNHCR refugee camp in northwest Kenya on Nov. 23, 2022. (RNS photo/Tonny Onyulo)
Many Ugandan LGBTQ refugees at Kakuma Refugee Camp in Kenya are seeking safety after escaping homophobic attacks in Uganda. Refugees demonstrate at the UNHCR refugee camp in northwest Kenya on Nov. 23, 2022.

Church leaders have been meeting with youth, parents, children, elders and government officers in an effort to curb the spread of “immoral” behavior among people, especially children. The leaders have also been advising parents during Masses and other gatherings to warn their children against same-sex attraction and to urge them to be content with what their parents have given them, so they are not tempted by money.

“We have started to sensitize children in schools and homes against the vice of homosexuality,” said the Rev. Fr. Francis Xavier Kikomeko, the parish priest of Kisubi in Kampala, who also said they offer weekly workshops.

“We want to make children and parents aware that homosexuality is a sin, and pro-gay activists should never influence them to join LGTBQ groups because it’s evil and not accepted in the Bible.”

Complete Article HERE!

Five years later, clergy abuse survivors still waiting for NJ attorney general’s report

By Deena Yellin

When New Jersey’s attorney general launched an investigation into alleged abuses by Roman Catholic clergy in the state more than five years ago, Bruce Novozinsky felt a wave of relief.

“I had so much hope,” said Novozinsky, an abuse survivor from Monmouth County who says his family’s parish priest, the late Rev. Gerry Brown of St. Mary of the Lake in Lakewood, tried to rape him when he was 16.

Yet more than five years after the investigation was announced with great fanfare, there’s no sign that a grand jury empaneled to oversee the probe will release its report any time soon. Despite receiving hundreds of tips, the effort thus far has resulted in only three indictments and one conviction, and the state Attorney General’s Office has been tight-lipped about its process.

Abuse survivors around New Jersey say they’ve been let down once again.

Bruce Novozinsky, photographed in 2019 outside the Diocese of Trenton Chancellery office. He said clergy abuse survivors have grown frustrated at the slow pace of the state's investigation.
Bruce Novozinsky, photographed in 2019 outside the Diocese of Trenton Chancellery office. He said clergy abuse survivors have grown frustrated at the slow pace of the state’s investigation.

Then-Attorney General Gurbir Grewal announced the formation of a task force in September 2018 to look into allegations of sexual abuse within New Jersey’s Catholic dioceses. His impetus was a Pennsylvania grand jury report that had been released days earlier. That 1,400-page report, compiled over two years, documented widespread cases of sexual abuse by priests in the Keystone State and an organized effort by the church to cover it up. It was hailed by survivors as a landmark moment of accountability for the American church.

In announcing his own probe, Grewal said, “We owe it to the people of New Jersey to find out whether the same thing happened here.” He vowed to hold perpetrators responsible.

Other states around the country — including New York, Kentucky and Nebraska — also followed Pennsylvania with inquiries into local dioceses. Most took only two years to complete their reviews.

Clergy abuse task force

When he announced the task force in September 2018, Grewal named former acting Essex County Prosecutor Robert Laurino, an experienced sex crimes prosecutor, to head a team of detectives assembled from county prosecutors’ offices. Grewal authorized the task force to present evidence to a state grand jury and said it could use subpoenas to compel testimony.

The Attorney General’s Office also established a hotline to let people anonymously report allegations of clergy abuse. A spokesperson for the Attorney General’s Office said the line has received more than 600 calls to date, but the office declined to say how many have been investigated.

Novozinsky and other survivors said they were gratified the state was finally pursuing justice. He called the hotline in 2018 to report his story but was disappointed to find that “the staffing was ill-prepared,” he said. “I received a call back after around six weeks and was told the matter would be turned over to the Mercer County Prosecutor’s Office due to the hotline being inundated with many calls. That was the last I heard from anyone.

“No one anticipated the volume of abuse of the victims,” Novozinsky said.

In announcing the state's probe, state Attorney General Gurbir Grewal said, "We owe it to the people of New Jersey to find out whether the same thing happened here." He vowed to hold perpetrators responsible.
In announcing the state’s probe, state Attorney General Gurbir Grewal said, “We owe it to the people of New Jersey to find out whether the same thing happened here.” He vowed to hold perpetrators responsible.

Novozinsky said he was never interviewed by anyone from the attorney general’s task force. Since the announcement, abuse survivors have been waiting for news of a report from the grand jury. Novozinsky said the community is “frustrated that it’s at a standstill.”

Grewal left his post in 2021 to become director of enforcement at the Securities and Exchange Commission. He was replaced by Andrew Bruck, who was succeeded by current Attorney General Matthew Platkin.

Grewal did not return calls and e-mails seeking comment.

Prosecutors respond to criticism

But in a recent interview, Laurino, the head of the task force, said the investigation continues. “We are still working on it,” he said. “We hope to draw it to a conclusion. We’re hoping to wrap it up as soon as we can.” He declined to account for the delay or offer a timeline.

“We’re at a grand jury level and can’t comment on anything at this point,” he said.

Lisa Coryell, a spokesperson for the Attorney General’s Office, added, “Our investigation of alleged abuse is ongoing, and we are actively working to identify additional individuals who have been victimized by clergy no matter how long ago.”

‘If he’s found guilty, I’m free:’NJ man yearns for conviction of ex-Cardinal McCarrick

Like Laurino, she declined to predict when a final report would be issued. But both said the agency is committed to releasing one.

The Camden and Paterson dioceses declined to comment on the investigation. A spokeswoman from the Newark Archdiocese did not immediately return an e-mail seeking comment.

Three priests charged, one convicted

This state’s investigation has thus far resulted in criminal charges against three clergy members, the Attorney General’s Office said: the Rev. Thomas Ganley of Phillipsburg, the Rev. Brendan Williams of Howell and the Rev. Donato Cabardo of Jersey City.

Ganley was a priest at St. Cecilia Church in the Iselin section of Woodbridge when the alleged criminal acts occurred between 1990 and 1994, the office has said. The victim called the state hotline in January 2019 to report an alleged assault. Two days later, Ganley was arrested by members of the Clergy Abuse Task Force and the Middlesex County Prosecutor’s Office.

He was charged with one count of first-degree aggravated sexual assault and two counts of second-degree sexual assault. In April 2019, he pleaded guilty to the second-degree charge and was sentenced to four years in state prison.

Cabardo was a priest at St. Paul of the Cross when he allegedly groped a woman in the church rectory on two occasions in 2020. The Archdiocese of Newark received the complaint from an employee and forwarded it to the Clergy Abuse Task Force. The priest was arrested on August 2020 and charged with two counts of fourth-degree criminal sexual contact and one count of harassment. He was admitted into a pre-trial intervention program.

Former Acting Essex County Prosecutor Robert Laurino was appointed to head the state task force investigating abuse in the church. "We're hoping to wrap it up as soon as we can,' he said recently.
Former Acting Essex County Prosecutor Robert Laurino was appointed to head the state task force investigating abuse in the church. “We’re hoping to wrap it up as soon as we can,’ he said recently.

Williams, serving at the St. Veronica parish in Howell, was charged with sexually assaulting a minor in incidents from 1998 through 2000, after the alleged victim’s father called the hotline. On September 2019, Williams was arrested by members of the Clergy Abuse Task Force and the Monmouth County Prosecutor’s Office and charged with criminal sexual contact of a victim under age 13. He was acquitted after a bench trial in Monmouth County, during which the accuser, a 34-year-old woman with multiple mental disorders, failed to convince the judge that Williams had molested her on three occasions when she was a child.

Praise for task force’s work

Mark Crawford, the New Jersey state director for the Survivors Network of those Abused by Priests, an advocacy group, said he has taken several victims to give statements to the investigators, typically a team of two detectives from each county trained to deal with sexual assault victims. He complimented the task force’s work.

“The investigators are doing a thorough job,” he said.

“When victims call the hotline, they give their information, and within a few weeks, they hear from the detectives in their county who ask if they want to come in and give an official statement so that an investigation can occur,” Crawford said.

Msgr. Kenneth Lasch, a former pastor with the Paterson Diocese, said he was interviewed twice by detectives from the task force because of his work as an advocate for clergy abuse survivors. “They were extensive interviews that lasted several hours. We went over my involvement as an advocate for victims in cases that I was involved with in the Diocese of Paterson and with Delbarton,” he said, referring to the school in Morris County. “They asked a series of questions about specific incidents and took notes.”

Mark Crawford, the New Jersey head of the Survivors Network of Those Abused by Priests, said the delayed grand jury report has sowed distrust in the survivor community.
Mark Crawford, the New Jersey head of the Survivors Network of Those Abused by Priests, said the delayed grand jury report has sowed distrust in the survivor community.

Why the investigation has slowed

Legal experts attribute the task force’s pace to delays caused by COVID-19 as well as the large number of abuse reports and a chronic shortage of judges in New Jersey.

“Once COVID hit, that set back their investigation by two years,” said John Baldante, a Haddonfield attorney who has brought 350 clergy abuse cases against the Catholic Church in New Jersey.

Attorney Greg Gianforcaro, who has represented hundreds of clergy abuse survivors in the state over three decades, said many of his clients provided statements to task force investigators and that their information will eventually be included in the report, except their names.

He believes the task force is taking a long time because it faces more cases than are seen in the other states. That’s because of an old state law that Gianforcaro said made New Jersey a dumping ground for abusive priests.

The state’s Charitable Immunity Act, adopted in 1958, gave protection to nonprofit and religious institutions like the Catholic Church, said the attorney, who is based in Phillipsburg.

The provision was repealed in 2006. But in the five decades before that, “the church felt like they could get away with sending their clerics who had abused children out of state to work here,” Gianforcaro said. “In essence, New Jersey was a haven for pedophile priests because the church viewed itself as not being able to be held liable for the sexual abuse of children.”

‘An ongoing public danger’

The Pennsylvania grand jury investigation, which found over 300 predator priests who had abused nearly 1,000 children, took investigators two years to complete. How much longer New Jersey will need is unclear.

“Our main concern remains the possibility of an ongoing public danger,” said Adam Horowitz, an attorney representing dozens of clergy abuse accusers in the state. “We’re concerned that dangerous predators who have been ousted from Catholic parishes are now volunteering at local schools, coaching soccer or teaching music lessons in their apartments one-on-one at night. ”

In the meantime, abuse survivors and their advocates continue to wait.

“We’re all upset that this hasn’t come to fruition yet,” said Crawford, the survivors advocacy group director for New Jersey. “Victims have come forward and poured out their souls. They constantly call me and want to know what’s going on with the report. Now they don’t believe anything will happen. It creates distrust of our legal system.”

Complete Article HERE!

New Orleans priest in hospital after being jailed on child rape charges

— Lawyers tell court Lawrence Hecker, 92, has declined mentally and physically while incarcerated

An undated photo of a younger Lawrence Hecker.

By David Hammer of WWL Louisiana in New Orleans

A 92-year-old retired Catholic priest jailed in New Orleans since September on charges of child rape and kidnapping has been hospitalized, his attorneys said on Friday.

Lawrence Hecker – who admitted that he sexually molested or harassed underage boys in the 1960s and 1970s during a remarkable interview with WWL Louisiana and the Guardian in August – has experienced mental decline, disorientation and some physical ailments while being held in New Orleans’s jail, attorneys argued during a state court hearing.

They requested home confinement for Hecker should he be released from the hospital, but the judge presiding over his case, Ben Willard, said: “That’s not going to happen.”

The New Orleans state prosecutor Ned McGowan suggested a secure hospital that can provide mental health treatment in East Feliciana parish, Louisiana, about 120 miles to the north-west. But McGowan opposed Hecker’s release to home confinement, saying the retired priest had admitted under oath to viewing child sexual abuse images.

McGowan’s remarks appeared to be a reference to a December 2020 deposition given by Hecker in a separate civil lawsuit accusing him of child rape. As the Guardian had previously reported, Hecker said in that deposition that he would look at such images if they “appeared on his computer” while cruising for pornography.

Hecker has been in jail since he was arrested on 8 September on grand jury charges that he choked a high school student and sodomized him while he was unconscious. That was decades after Hecker provided an administrative statement to New Orleans Catholic church leaders in which he acknowledged that he had sexually molested or harassed numerous children whom he had met after becoming an ordained priest in 1958.

Hecker’s clerical career continued until the archdiocese of New Orleans allowed him to retire with full benefits in 2002, during an earlier high point in the worldwide Catholic church’s continuing clerical abuse crisis. The church waited another 16 years before publicly identifying him as a credibly accused child molester.

Less than a month before his indictment, Hecker discussed that statement with WWL Louisiana and the Guardian. Hecker was lucid and stood the whole time during the interview, an 18-minute session during which he said “yes” multiple times when asked whether the statement he had given to his superiors was accurate.

Hecker claimed that society had been more permissive of such behavior in the 1960s and 70s, though it was as illegal to engage in sexual activity with minors then as it is now.

Willard has tentatively set Hecker’s trial date for 25 March. He would face a sentence of mandatory life imprisonment if he is convicted as charged.

Hecker has pleaded not guilty. He has been in the custody of authorities since his arrest because he has not been able to pay the $800,000 bail set for him by Willard.

Complete Article HERE!

‘Another level of coverup’

— How a Mass. law prevents clergy abuse survivors from getting justice

Skip Shea

By Nancy Eve Cohen

It can take decades for an adult who survived sexual abuse as a child to bring a lawsuit. That’s the case for many who were abused by trusted members of the community, like Catholic priests. But in Massachusetts, even if a survivor of clergy abuse decides to sue, state laws can stand in the way of justice.

The first hurdle is the statute of limitations. If a victim is older than 53 and it’s been more than 7 years since they realized the abuse harmed them, the statute of limitations applies — meaning it’s likely too late to bring a lawsuit.

The second obstacle is known as the charitable immunity law, which applies to nonprofit charities. It generally limits the liability of charitable organizations, including Catholic dioceses, to $20,000. (Medical malpractice lawsuits against a nonprofit provider are capped at $100,000.)

Eric MacLeish has been one of the lead attorneys on clergy abuse cases against the Archdiocese of Boston and has sued all the dioceses in the state.

“This law artificially caps the liability of religious organizations and other charitable organizations, making it far more difficult to obtain a just and fair result for survivors of sexual abuse or people who are bringing any type of cause of action against a nonprofit corporation in Massachusetts,” he said.

MacLeish called it an illegitimate law.

“You’re looking really at not only an anachronistic law, that is not supported by any consideration of public policy, but one that cuts off arbitrarily the rights of survivors to hold religious organizations accountable for their misconduct,” MacLeish said.

‘Worst’ charitable immunity law ‘in the country’

Kathryn Robb is the executive director of Child USAdvocacy, which lobbies lawmakers to pass legislation that protects children. Robb said most states have abolished charitable immunity or limited it to what an insurer would cover.

“Massachusetts has the worst charitable immunity statute in the country,” she said.

Robb said her group is working with state lawmakers to eliminate the $20,000 cap for child sexual abuse claims.

“It’s time for Massachusetts to come out of the dark ages,” she said.

Massachusetts used to give nonprofits complete immunity from all liability, based on the idea that charities get their money from public donations and those funds should be used only for charitable work. In 1971, lawmakers took away this blanket immunity, but capped damages.

When the charitable immunity law was enacted, most charities were shoestring operations. And it was to protect these do-gooders from having a slip-and-fall case that would would prevent them from continuing their good deeds,” said John Stobierski, a lawyer who has represented survivors in Springfield.

That purpose has long passed,” he said, “because most charities — I shouldn’t say all — but a charity like the Catholic Church is a very wealthy, powerful organization, just like a hospital. They’re not little Podunk entities that would wither if they had a significant lawsuit.”

For years, Massachusetts lawmakers have filed bills to do away with the charitable immunity cap or change it. This session, a set of House and Senate bills would eliminate it. Another set of proposals would amend it so it does not apply to child sexual abuse cases.

The Massachusetts Nonprofit Network said in a statement the current law balances the charitable purposes of a nonprofit and donor intent with an ability for plaintiffs to be compensated.

“The bills proposed to change charitable liability law would disrupt this balance, and run contrary to the long held standard that charitable assets be dedicated to advancement of the missions of nonprofit organizations,” the organization said in a statement. “Therefore we do not support those bills.”

The nonprofit network also noted that the charitable cap does not apply if the claims are about activities “outside or incidental to a nonprofit’s charitable mission and other non-tort claims.”

Catholic leaders also support keeping the cap in place, to ensure the church spends donations on services identified by its donors.

“[S]uch as [on] tuition assistance, charitable operations such as food pantries and homeless prevention, and individual parish support, to name but a few,” Raymond Delisle, chancellor and director of communications for the Diocese of Worcester, said in a statement. “The charitable immunity cap on lawsuit damages is critical to allow all charities, including the diocese, to make an impact for the public good in our communities.”

‘I cannot take your case’

Robb said because of the $20,000 cap, most attorneys won’t take child abuse cases against dioceses or any nonprofits.

“So it essentially stops all of these claims from coming forward, exposing bad actors, exposing bad practices and institutions,” she said. “It creates another level of coverup, which is really dangerous for our children and for our communities.”

Lynne Pottle said she was abused by a priest for more than four years starting when she was 12, in 1975, at Our Lady of Lourdes Church in the Worcester Diocese. She had gone to the priest for help because her own father was drinking and had abused her.

Decades later, she caught a TV news story showing survivors standing with their lawyer. The memories of abuse flooded back — and she contacted an attorney in Framingham about taking legal action against the Diocese of Worcester.

Skip Shea stands inside a building that was once known as the House of Affirmation, a treatment center in Whitinsville, Massachusetts, for pedophile priests. It was run by the Diocese of Worcester. The state's charitable immunity cap got in the way of a lawsuit Shea filed against the diocese. The suit alleged a priest in the diocese sexually abused him when he was a minor.
Skip Shea stands inside a building that was once known as the House of Affirmation, a treatment center in Whitinsville, Massachusetts, for pedophile priests. It was run by the Diocese of Worcester. The state’s charitable immunity cap got in the way of a lawsuit Shea filed against the diocese. The suit alleged a priest in the diocese sexually abused him when he was a minor.

“He said, ‘I cannot take your case,'” Pottle said.

She can’t remember the attorney’s name, but she remembers what he said.

“The lawyer actually said to me that $20,000 is not enough for him to be doing so much work,” Pottle said. “I felt just devastated. And I said, ‘No one cares. I can’t get any  help for this. I can’t get any validation for it.'”

Skip Shea, now 63 years old, also tried to sue the Worcester Diocese.

“They started the deposition process and then I got a call from the lawyer saying, ‘There’s a charitable immunity cap, so we can’t continue to work,'” Shea said.

Shea said he was sexually abused by more than three priests in the diocese, starting at age 11 until he was over 16. He said the diocese offered him some money — even less than the cap.

They offered “$10,000 and I said, ‘I’ll take it if I can have a private meeting with the bishop,’ which I got,” Shea said.

Shea met with Bishop Robert Joseph McManus, who still leads the Worcester Diocese today.

“Told him everything that happened. Made him sit there and listen. I named the priest, everything I went through,” Shea said. “He had to hear it. It was a very uncomfortable meeting for him. However my battles with the church go, I have to give him credit for sitting there and taking it — because I know it wasn’t easy.”

The diocese said meetings with the bishop last as long as the survivor wants and can involve multiple meetings.

Pottle also met with McManus, in November 2016.

“I met with him just for a few minutes. And It was somewhat helpful, but not really,” she said. “What I said to the bishop was that it’s not what happened to us back then — it’s how we are managing our lives now as a result of what happened, people who are on medication, people who can’t work. Myself included.”

People who are addicted to alcohol or drugs — or who try to end their own lives.

The bishop of the Catholic Diocese of Worcester, Robert J. McManus, speaks at a news conference in Worcester, Massachusetts, March 9, 2004, when he was bishop-elect. McManus has met with those who were sexually abused by clergy at the diocese when they were minors. The diocese says meetings with the bishop last as long as the survivor wants and can involve multiple meetings.
The bishop of the Catholic Diocese of Worcester, Robert J. McManus, speaks at a news conference in Worcester, Massachusetts, March 9, 2004, when he was bishop-elect. McManus has met with those who were sexually abused by clergy at the diocese when they were minors. The diocese says meetings with the bishop last as long as the survivor wants and can involve multiple meetings.

The spokesperson for the Worcester Diocese, Ray Delisle, said in email that the diocese does not answer questions about specific survivors.

“A focus on the charitable immunity cap on damages in a lawsuit is far too simplistic for the response that our diocese has made for more than two decades to those who have been abused,” he said.

Delisle said the diocese’s response to people who have been abused can go well beyond the cap on legal damages. It has a licensed social worker who meets with victims and can authorize therapeutic support. He said the diocese has helped victims pay for medical and dental bills, housing and utilities — for years.

According to a Feb. 2023 report, Delisle said, only about a third of people who go to the diocese about abuse are seeking legal recourse.

The ‘worst of the four dioceses’

Attorney Carmen Durso represents people who are victims of child sexual abuse. He has had, and still has, cases in Worcester.

“In Massachusetts, they’re the worst of the four dioceses. There’s no two ways about it,” Durso said.

There’s nothing stopping a diocese from paying more than the cap. Durso said most do if they feel it’s a legitimate claim. But in his experience, he said, the Diocese of Worcester won’t pay more than $20,000 — and sometimes they pay less.

Lawyers’ fees take a third of what’s awarded, plus filing fees, the cost of a deposition and a report from a mental health professional, as Durso explains to his clients.

“‘It’ll take a year and a half to two years,'” he said he tells potential clients. “‘You will have to be deposed. It will be an unpleasant experience for you. At the end, you may or may not get a judgment. No one can guarantee what a jury will do. And if and when that happens, the net sum available to you will be $10,000 or less.'”

Even if a jury awards much more, a diocese can legally invoke the cap, so that’s all that can be collected.

Delisle, the Worcester Diocese spokesperson, pushed back on the criticism.

“While it is easy to view the institution as complicit when named as a defendant in a suit, the diocese is often caught in the middle between the alleged perpetrator of the abuse and the survivor,” Delisle said. “The diocese does not defend the priest who is represented by his own attorney. At times we will agree to a settlement, either with or without our insurer’s participation.”

Alternate strategies

There is a legal strategy Durso and other attorneys have used to get around the cap.

Trial lawyer Laura Mangini, who has about five cases against the Springfield Diocese, said this strategy involves suing an individual for negligence — someone who worked for the diocese and who supervised a pedophile priest.

“Say there was a priest that knew another priest was abusing [a] child but didn’t do anything, didn’t tell anyone, and just kind of brush[ed] it under the rug. If you get a judgment against that priest, then they are not subject to the cap,” Mangini said.

That claim could be covered by the diocese’s insurance.

Some lawyers will also sue the abuser directly, though many priests don’t have any assets. And because the victims were abused as children, often the alleged pedophile priest and supervisor have died.

“Right now, the charitable immunity cap in Massachusetts still covers the intentional torts of priests,” Mangini said, noting a recent case before the state’s Supreme Judicial Court indicates the justices may limit the cap’s application so it does not apply to child sexual abuse cases. “So there there is a growing sense that that might be changing in the next couple of years.”

 The office of the bishop of the Roman Catholic Diocese in Springfield, Massachusetts, in a file photo.
The office of the bishop of the Roman Catholic Diocese in Springfield, Massachusetts, in a file photo.

Mangini recommends clients first report the abuse to the Springfield Diocese, which is required to report it to prosecutors. If there are no criminal charges, the case would go before a diocesan review board.

The case could be settled at that point or the survivor might file a lawsuit. If that happens, she said, the diocese will sometimes use the cap as leverage in negotiations.

Mangini said Springfield has paid more than $20,000 in some cases as part of a settlement. But, for a lot of survivors, she said, a lawsuit is not about the money.

“It’s about finally standing up for themselves and taking back their own control in the situation,” she said. “And for the jury and a community to say, ‘Yes, we acknowledge what happened to you. It was wrong.'”

The Diocese of Springfield said it does not assert charitable immunity for any case its review board finds credible unless a victim files a lawsuit. Then it said it’s “required by its insurers” to assert all legal defenses, including charitable immunity.

The diocese said it would not comment on the amount it pays without permission of survivors.

“The [Springfield] diocese negotiates in good faith in all its dealings with survivors,” a spokesperson said. “Evidence of that exists in the diocese’s granting reimbursement for health and mental health services to survivors regardless of whether or not he or she participates in the settlement program and even if he or she sues the diocese.”

‘A degree of validation’ or just ‘insulting’?

The Boston Archdiocese has its own compensation program. According to victims’ attorneys, an arbitrator, like a former judge, hears a complaint, decides if it’s valid, and how much money to award.

Attorney Mitchell Garabedian said Boston pays about $75,000, plus the cost of therapy and medication that insurance doesn’t cover.

“To some victims it helps them gain a degree of validation to move on,” Garabedian said. “To other victims it’s insulting, thinking that, ‘Well, my being sexually abused 30 times or 20 times was only worth this amount of money in the eyes of the diocese, which allowed the sexual abuse to happen.’”

The archdiocese has not provided answers to questions — sent more than a month ago — about its compensation program. In early January, a spokesperson acknowledged receipt of the questions and said the archdiocese was working on a statement.

“It’s a private process,” Durso, a victims’ attorney, said. “It’s not appealable. You waive any court rights. But if you have a case, in which the likelihood is, if you go to court you can’t recover more than $20,000, it’s an appealing process for people who don’t have other options.”

Similarly, the Fall River Diocese has a mediation program.

Dan Martin, 60, said he was abused by a priest in Taunton starting when he was about 12. He said the $20,000 cap minimizes the damage caused by the abuse.

“When I think about the cap, I think that it’s laughable. To me, it’s a joke. The crime and the punishment don’t match,” Martin said.

Martin’s lawyer, Paula Bliss, said he brought his case to a mediation program at the Diocese of Fall River. She said that was really the only option due to the charitable cap. Bliss said it would have cost more than $20,000 in expenses just to bring a lawsuit.

“What this actually does, it keeps litigants out of a courtroom and it forecloses their ability to have their case heard by a jury of their peers,” Bliss said.

She said the Fall River program used the $20,000 cap as leverage when it offered an award. She wouldn’t say how much it was, but called it “peanuts.”

The Diocese of Fall River issued a statement saying it’s “resolved to do all it can to help survivors heal and make certain the diocese is accountable.”

“We have a process in place to evaluate claims and encourage survivors to come forward, even if those claims are from many decades ago,” the statement said. “If a claim is found to be credible, we routinely work to resolve claims above the charitable cap.”

In addition, the diocese said it offers supportive services to survivors of clergy sexual abuse and their families, including therapy.

‘You feel like you’re shot’

Pottle, who survived sexual assault in a Worcester church in the 1970s, said she deserves money, validation and a big apology. She said when the lawyer told her he could not take her case because of the cap, it robbed her of all hope.

“It was  one of the moments in my life you feel like you’re shot,” she said. “You feel like you have a hole. And then you start to go on and search and search for help to heal that hole.”

Pottle hasn’t found a legal recourse for healing. She said when she met with a support group of other survivors, that helped. But she still suffers.

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