A Catholic order has lost its latest attempt to use the death of a known paedophile clergy member to shield itself from allegations of child sexual abuse after a judge found that allowing such a course would “bring the administration of justice into disrepute”.
In recent months, the Guardian has revealed how the Catholic church, in particular its Marist Brothers and Christian Brothers orders, is increasingly using the deaths of clergy members to argue for permanent stays of cases brought by abuse survivors in the civil courts.
The church, which for decades covered up sexual abuse and thwarted justice for victims and survivors, has been emboldened by a win in New South Wales’s highest court last year, which found a perpetrator’s death made a fair trial impossible.
In a more recent case, the Marist Brothers argued that the death of notorious paedophile Brother Francis “Romuald” Cable rendered it unable to fairly defend itself from a civil claim by a survivor known by the pseudonym of Mark Peters, because it can no longer call Cable as a witness.
The Marist Brothers made that argument despite the fact that Cable was alive for 22 months after Peters first notified it of his claim. After learning of Peters’s claim in October 2020, it did nothing to seek a response from Cable before he died in September 2022. Cable was 88 years old and behind bars when the Marist Brothers learned of the impending case.
On Friday, the NSW supreme court rejected the church’s attempts to use Cable’s death to justify a permanent stay.
“The defendant should not, in my view, have the benefit of its own inaction,” justice Nicholas Chen found.
“The defendant’s alleged inability to meaningfully deal with the claim is, I find, a product of its own unreasonable failure to attempt to make contact with Cable, and to take steps to secure his evidence.
“In my view, to accept otherwise would, adopting what was said by [former chief justice Thomas Bathurst], ‘itself bring the administration of justice into disrepute’.”
Court documents allege the Marist Brothers have known of abuse complaints against Cable since 1967, but concealed his crimes from police and other authorities for decades and instead shuffled him between its schools, where he continued to abuse children.
The Marist Brothers argued to the court that it didn’t seek a response from Cable to Peters’s allegations while he was alive because he had earlier rebuffed them in 2015 and said he did not want to have any more contact with the order’s leadership team.
But the court rejected that submission for five separate reasons. It found that 2015 was a particularly sensitive time for Cable, given he had just been convicted for child abuse and was awaiting sentence, meaning he may have been more likely to want to talk five years later, if the Marist Brothers had attempted to contact him again.
The court also found that Cable may have been willing to talk to a lawyer or investigator, rather than a member of Marist’s leadership team.
Cable had also subsequently pleaded guilty to a raft of other child abuse charges in the period after the Marist Brothers approached him in 2015. He knew he would likely be in jail until he died, the court found. That “suggests that Cable, if contacted, may well have agreed to discuss what happened to the plaintiff”.
“At an absolute minimum, I consider that the defendant should have attempted – on an ongoing basis – contact with Cable following the letter notifying the defendant of the plaintiff’s intent to commence proceedings in 2020, and those steps should have been intensified once proceedings had been commenced,” Chen ruled.
Former Catholic Diocese of Wilmington Bishop W. Francis Malooly was one of several past high-ranking Archdiocese of Baltimore officials identified as those who helped cover up sexual abuse, according to a Baltimore Sun exclusive article published online late Thursday.
Malooly — along with the Most Revs. Richard “Rick” Woy, G. Michael Schleupner, J. Bruce Jarboe and George B. Moeller — helped abusive priests get away with their crimes, either concealing the extent of a priest’s misdeeds or striking deals with prosecutors to avoid a criminal charge, according to the Sun’s article.
The five were among the most powerful, high-ranking and visible officials in the archdiocese, which comprises Baltimore and nine of Maryland’s 23 counties in the central and western portions of the state. Its annual directories show some served as chancellor, effectively the right hand of the late Cardinal William Keeler or the late Archbishop William Borders. Others were directors of clergy personnel, akin to a human resources manager. Other times, they were in charge of archdiocesan finances.
Malooly, who was reached at his house in Brandywine Hundred on Friday afternoon, referred comment to Christian Kendzierski, a spokesman with the Archdiocese of Baltimore. Kendzierski did not have much to say.
“Considering this topic is possibly centered around a court ordered process, I don’t have anything to offer in response,” he told Delaware Online/The News Journal.
The Catholic Diocese of Wilmington, where Malooly most recently served until 2021, could not be reached for comment by Delaware Online/The News Journal on Thursday night.
How is Bishop Malooly involved?
The incidents described by the Sun occurred before Malooly became bishop of the Catholic Diocese of Wilmington in 2008. The following year, the Wilmington diocese sought Chapter 11 protection after a flood of civil lawsuits were filed by survivors of clergy sexual abuse under provisions of Delaware’s 2007 Child Victims Act.
The 2007 law opened a two-year window for child sexual abuse cases that would otherwise have been barred by the statute of limitations.
“Our hope is that the Chapter 11 proceedings will enable us to fairly compensate all victims through a single process,” Malooly said in 2009.
He later noted that this move would allow all victims to see compensation.
“We have a finite amount of resources and it became clear we would never get through 142 complainants in any fair or equitable way,” Malooly said.
The Rev. Francis Malooly, then bishop of the Diocese of Wilmington, retired in 2021.
The diocese emerged from bankruptcy in 2011, paying $77.4 million into a trust fund to resolve all claims by abuse survivors and another $10 million into a pension fund for lay employees that was found to be underfunded during financial disclosures.
“The corruption in the Church over the last 60 years is beyond belief,” attorney Thomas S. Neuberger said to Delaware Online/The News Journal on Thursday night after the Sun story was published. Neuberger’s firm represented an overwhelming majority of victims who sued the Wilmington diocese.
“The use of Bishop Malooly is further proof that all it seeks is to protect its wealth and power,” he said. “Claims that it now has procedures in place to protect children are mere window dressing. Parents are not fooled by all that and the proof is the continuing declining enrollment in church schools.”
Malooly’s role in the Baltimore Sun’s reporting
According to the Sun’s article, its reporters reviewed thousands of pages of court records, decades of archdiocese directories, and dozens of contemporary newspaper articles to piece together details that helped reveal the men’s identities. People with knowledge of their conduct at the time or who are familiar with the report confirmed The Sun’s reporting.
One specific case reported by the Sun involves Malooly, then the director of the clergy personnel division, contacting the office of the Maryland state’s attorney in Baltimore and describing an accusation against a clergy member without naming him.
The Sun’s reporting claims Malooly never reported the accusation, citing a Maryland attorney general’s report.
Reverend W. Francis Malooly addresses faculty, family and graduates at Padua Academy’s 60th annual commencement exercise Thursday, June 1, 2017, at St. Anthony’s Roman Catholic Church in Wilmington.
Is this the first time Malooly has come under question?
No. Malooly, who was assigned to the Archdiocese of Baltimore before he became Wilmington’s bishop in 2008, was named in a 2017 Netflix docuseries that claimed he tried to cover up sexual abuse by a Baltimore priest decades ago.
In 2018, after a Pennsylvania grand jury released a report detailing sexual abuse claims in six Pennsylvania dioceses by hundreds of priests, Malooly – then-bishop of the Diocese of Wilmington − released a statement as church leaders in neighboring states came under question.
“Here in the Diocese of Wilmington, we have demonstrated a continuing commitment to preventing sexual abuse,” Malooly said. “We are grateful that the Diocese of Wilmington has not had a reported instance of the sexual abuse of a child by anyone in diocesan or parish ministry in over 25 years. Our policies, procedures, training, and continuing commitment makes our churches and schools safe places for children.”
The Banner has uncovered three of the ten clergy members whose names were redacted from the Maryland attorney general’s report on child sexual abuse within the Archdiocese of Baltimore.
When the mother in suburban Atlanta remembers those days, the warning signs were there.
There were fights when she drove her son to classes for his first Communion. He begged her not to leave him. The family felt unsettled by a Christmas letter from the priest they hardly knew.
“At the end of the letter, he said, ‘How is my sweet little [boy],’ and there, I felt really nauseous for some reason. It’s like someone punched me in the stomach,” the mother would tell attorneys in a deposition. “I told my husband. I said, ‘Look at this letter. It doesn’t sound right to me.’ ”
They would later learn what troubled their son. He alleged in a 2018 federal lawsuit in their home state of Georgia that he had been made to perform a sexual act on the Rev. John Peter Krzyzanski — “or he would not get into heaven.”
That allegation appears nearly word for word on Page 440 of the Maryland attorney general’s recent report into child sexual abuse and cover-ups within the Archdiocese of Baltimore. After Georgia, Krzyzanski worked a decade at a Franciscan friary in Ellicott City.
But someone reading the report won’t find his name. He’s anonymous, just listed as “#151.”
Krzyzanski is one of 10 living church figures accused of abuse whose identities are redacted from the report.The names were hidden because they surfaced during the confidential grand jury investigation that produced the report — not because of doubts about the credibility of the allegations.
Attorney General Anthony Brown underscored thatpoint last month when he said the archdiocese may “legally release those names to the public at any moment.”
ABaltimore Banner investigation has uncovered the identities of three of the redacted clergy members. Online court records show none of the three have been charged with a crime in Maryland. Identities of the other seven could not be confirmed. None of the 10 are in ministry within the archdiocese today, a church spokesperson said.
To identify them, reporters matched details in the report to court transcripts, archdiocesan letters, church directories, news articles and other public documents. The family in suburban Atlanta requested anonymity. The Banner does not identify victims of sexual abuse without their consent. In addition to Krzyzanski, the other priests are:
The Rev. Samuel Lupico (No. 152)
The Rev. Joseph O’Meara (No. 155)
An archdiocesan spokesperson cited the confidentiality order of the court in declining to confirm or refute the three names. The attorney general’s office declined to comment for this article.
Survivors of clergy sexual abuse want all 10 alleged abusers to be named. Otherwise, the report mostly repeats or expands on known allegations and names deceased priests.
The Baltimore judge who ordered the report’s release called it a public reckoning. But to survivors, any reckoning falls short while church officials and clergy benefit from anonymity.
In other states, clergy whose names were redacted from similar reports fought to keep their identities hidden and often won. That’s led survivors, advocates and journalists to work to reveal the names hidden in the Maryland report. Also redacted are names of five church officials who handled allegations of abuse.
“Official C” has been identified as as W. Francis Malooly, the retired bishop of the Diocese of Wilmington. That identification was made last month by Terry McKiernan, the founder of BishopAccountability.org, a Massachusetts nonprofit that collects documents related to clergy sexual abuse cases.
Malooly retired in 2021 as bishop of Wilmington and previously served as auxiliary bishop of Baltimore. The report shows Malooly handled allegations of abuse in Baltimore for roughly two decades and failed to report some cases to authorities.
“The names need to come out,”McKiernan said. “Survivors are very, very unhappy about these redactions and understandably so. They’re giving something with one hand, and it’s taken away with another.”
‘More concerned with avoiding scandal’
The attorney general’s report mentions “Official C,” or Malooly, more than 70 times when discussing the conduct of Baltimore church leaders who were confronted with allegations of abuse. No other redacted church leader’s name appears as often.
Malooly was a key figure in a leadership who is sometimesfaulted in the investigation for ignoring the abuse even when survivors came forward. He helped handle 25 different clergy members’ abuse cases from 1985 to 2006.
“Church documents reveal with disturbing clarity that the Archdiocese was more concerned with avoiding scandal and negative publicity than it was with protecting children,” wrote investigators for the attorney general.
For example, there’s the case of the Rev. John Banko. A manreported in 1992 that Banko had abused him at St. Mary’s Seminary in Baltimore. Investigators say there is no evidence that Malooly took action to contact the survivor, investigate or report the allegation to police.
Instead, Malooly alerted Archbishop William Keeler so he could tell the bishop of Metuchen in New Jersey, where Banko worked at the time. Banko was later convicted of sexually abusing two teenage boys from his New Jersey parish and sentenced to 18 years in prison. Banko was listed as credibly accused by the archdiocese in 2002.
Scattered through the report are examples of Malooly’s failure to appropriately handle abuse cases. The Rev. Brian Cox told the attorney general’s office that he confided inMalooly about struggling with pedophilia. Cox said Malooly told him, “You’re a fine priest. Don’t worry about it.”
In another case, Malooly wrote a letter to accused abuser the Rev. Joseph Maskell in 1996 expressing satisfaction that a lawsuit filed against him might not proceed because the statute of limitations had expired.
The archdiocese movedMaskell from one parish to another after parents reported his inappropriate behavior with children. He ended up atthe all-girls Archbishop Keough High School. At least 39 people have reported that they or others they know were sexually abused by Maskell, according to the report. He was placed on administrative leave and resigned in 1994, before moving to Ireland.
Another case shows Malooly’s steps to protect the church’s reputation. The Rev. James Toulas at Our Lady of Fatima Parish in East Baltimore was placed on administrative leave in 1993 and sent to counselingfollowing allegations that he had repeatedly groped a 14-year-old boy, according to the report.
Malooly sent a letter to Toulas saying the action was taken due to “the nature of the accusations” and “the clear possibility of public scandal.” Malooly encouraged him to get counseling: “With your religious superiors, we stand ready to assist you in any way we can during this time.”
The report said Toulas admitted the abuse. He was placed on the list of credibly accused priests in 2022.
As bishop of Wilmington, which includes the Eastern Shore of Maryland, Maloolyshepherded the diocese through its bankruptcy over clergy abuse. Malooly wrote online about the chance for a fresh start when the diocese emerged two years later from reorganization.
“But we must never forget or gloss over the suffering endured by survivors of abuse,” he wrote.
His open letter was required by the bankruptcy settlement.
Malooly did not reply to phone calls, an email or a registered letter requesting comment.
‘He always had a 35-millimeter camera strapped around his neck’
Krzyzanski served as a Franciscan friar for four decades in the Our Lady of the Angels Province, which has locations in 11 states and headquarters in Ellicott City. He told the court he was assigned to the St.Joseph Cupertino Friary in Ellicott City from 2001 to 2011.
The attorney general’s report does not accuse Krzyzanski of sexual contact with children. The lawsuit accuses him of two sexual acts against the 6-year-old boy two decades ago in suburban Atlanta.
Also in Georgia, Krzyzanski’s superiors found him with downloaded child pornography and sent him in 2000 for psychiatric treatment at the St. Luke Institute in Maryland, according to the report. Investigators wrote that he also took thousands of pictures of young girls and displayed them around his room, though his superiors did not consider the photos erotic.
“He always had a 35-millimeter camera strapped around his neck,” the boy’s father recalled in a deposition for the lawsuit.
Krzyzanski underwent three psychiatric evaluations over the years, and he admitted to viewing child pornography and feeling attracted to girls as young as 11, according to the report. He denied sexual contact with children.
One psychiatrist found insufficient evidence to diagnose him with pedophilia and concluded that there was no reason to believe he would act in a sexual manner with a child, according to the report. But going forward, the psychiatrist recommended he minister to adults only.
Krzyzanski submitted that evaluation to the Archdiocese of Baltimore in 2006 in hopes of getting a new assignment. Investigators wrote that there’s no indication the archdiocese granted him one.
The lawsuit was filed against him more than a decade later after he had moved to a home for senior friars near Albany, New York. Krzyzanski denied the allegations in the lawsuit.
In his deposition, Krzyzanski told attorneys he had only passing contact with the family and no one-on-one contact with their son.
The case went on for three years before a judge dismissed the lawsuit on procedural grounds. The survivor appealed and settled with Krzyzanski out of court almost one year later. Joseph Michael Todd, the survivor’s attorney, said he was unable to comment because of a confidentiality agreement.
Reached by phone, Krzyzanski was told he’d been identified as #151. He did not deny or confirm this, but said he believed the report to be redacted and asked how he had been identified.
Any information included in the report about him had been provided without his consent, Krzyzanski said, and he was working with an attorney. He declined to name the attorney.
Krzyzanski said he did not expect a call from a reporter and hung up.
Alcohol and alleged sexual advances
The Rev. Samuel Lupico came to Maryland as a priest in the 1970s and served for decades within the Archdiocese of Baltimore. He also taught courses at Loyola University of Maryland, according to archdiocesanrecords.
In 2014, a man reported that Lupico gave him alcohol, provided back rubs while aroused and made sexual advances in the 1980s, according to the report, which refers to Lupico as No. 152. The man described himself as Lupico’s foster son. He said that he lived in the rectory with the priest and was not “molested.”
When the archdiocese interviewed him, Lupico admitted that two teens lived in his house for a few months.
In 2021, a man reported that Lupico groped him when he was 12 or 13 inthe mid-1970s, according to the report. And last year, the archdiocese announced it was investigating an allegation of child sexual abuse involving Lupico from the mid-1970s,when he served at St. Ann’s Catholic Church in East Baltimore.
Church officials wrote that Lupico had retired and been assisting at St. Mary of the Assumption in Northeast Baltimore and St. Pius X in Rodgers Forge. They removed his duties as a priest and suspended him during an investigation.
An archdiocesan spokesperson did not respond to recent questions about the status of that investigation.
Lupico denied the allegation, according to the archdiocese.
When a reporter called Lupico about the report, he said, “I don’t want to talk about that,” before hanging up.
Kojo Quartey, for one, called Lupico a mentor. The president of Monroe County Community Collegenear Detroit, Quartey said in an interview he was essentially homeless with nowhere to go while attending Morgan State University. Then Lupico allowed him to stay for free in the rectory at St. Ann’s Catholic Church from 1979 to 1981.
”I’m not privy to any malfeasance or any occurrences of a sexual nature,” Quartey said. “None of that occurred with me.”
‘Avoiding him and fending him off’
The Rev. Joseph O’Meara began as a deacon in the archdiocese and served for decades in Maryland before retiringin 2010.
One woman described how O’Meara, identified in the report as No. 155, would kiss her mother and girls on the mouth. O’Meara, she said, visited her home regularly, made her sit on his lap and came in the bathroom while she was in the shower, according to the report.
A second woman said she and her sisters felt uncomfortable when O’Meara would kiss children on the mouth, investigators wrote.
And yet another woman said O’Meara often had dinner at her home in the early 1980s and would sometimes try to slide his hand up her leg toward her genitals under the table. She was 7 at the time. He stopped touching her when she entered high school, according to the report.
“She discussed him with her friends in the community and two of her friends described the same behavior,” investigators wrote. “They all discussed methods of avoiding him and fending him off.”
While a priest, O’Meara fired a housekeeper in 2000 who said he behaved inappropriately and talked about the size of her breasts, according to the report.
Then three women reported that O’Meara inappropriately touched them, according to a letter sent to church parishioners in 2019. The report describes similar allegations, detailing how three women in 2020 reported thatO’Meara touchedtheir breasts as adults.
The archdiocese announced that it had removed O’Meara from ministry and that he would no longer live at the St. Agnes and St. William of York parishes in Southwest Baltimore.
He was sent for an evaluation at the St. John Vianney Center, a Catholic behavioral health and addiction treatment facility west of Philadelphia, but left against the advice of the archdiocese, according to the report.
O’Meara could not be reached for comment. He did not respond to voicemails or text messages.
Will anyone identify the rest?
Before adding a name, the archdiocese investigates and determines whether the allegation is credible. If so, church leaders present their findings to an eight-member independent review board for a vote.
University of Maryland Chancellor Jay Perman heads the interfaith board of lay people, with representatives from the legal community, law enforcement, health care, academia and social work. Board members have met twice this year, but church leaders have not provided them the redacted names for consideration.
Maryland history shows abusers continued their misconduct amid the silence of church leaders and favor from authorities. The 10 anonymous clergy members are presumed alive and not widely known to be accused of wrongdoing.
The attorney general’s office said itredacted the names to head off any argument that the full report should not be released. Brown said his office will return to court and argue for permission to publish the names.
Now, the archdiocese has taken a position that it’s bound by the court from releasing the names. The attorney general disputes that position.
Washington’s mandatory reporter law is one of the weakest when it comes to clergy
Just before Washington’s legislative session ended, in a last-ditch attempt to push through her bill mandating clergy to report child abuse, state Sen. Noel Frame proposed a compromise.
The bill, which would have added clergy to the state’s list of mandatory reporters of child abuse or neglect, ran into a sticking point. Catholic lobbyists — and a majority of state Senators — wanted to carve out an exemption for priests if they learned of abuse or neglect through a confession, which is viewed as sacred within the Catholic Church.
Frame’s compromise was essentially this: Clergy would have a duty to warn law enforcement if they believed a child was at imminent risk of abuse, even if their belief was partly or fully informed by a confession. But they wouldn’t have to report the information they were told during the confession itself.
“We felt like this walked an appropriate line of not reporting what one heard in confession, but rather, reporting a belief of harm likely to happen,” Frame said.
Mario Villanueva, executive director of the state lobbying arm of the Catholic Church, the Washington State Catholic Conference, told Frame in an email on April 20 that the compromise was “something we could not accept.”
That effectively killed the bill for the 2023 legislative session, which ended late last month. And it marked one more unsuccessful attempt by Washington legislators in recent decades to add clergy to the mandatory reporter list. Washington is one of just seven states that does not currently list clergy as mandatory reporters, according to a federal agency that tracks the state laws.
State Sen. Noel Frame pushed a bill requiring clergy to report suspected cases of child abuse, saying on the Senate floor in February: “This legislation, I want to acknowledge, is a direct result of incredible investigative reporting by InvestigateWest that uncovered decades of child abuse being covered up by a particular faith community in Washington state.”Lawmakers in Washington first tried to change that in the early 2000s, in the wake of Catholic sex abuse scandals, but each bill died before becoming law. An InvestigateWest investigation last year into sexual abuse cover ups by Jehovah’s Witnesses in Washington renewed the effort to change the law, with Frame, D-Seattle, and Rep. Amy Walen, D-Kirkland, introducing legislation after reading the reporting.
Both the House and the Senate passed versions of the bill this session with bipartisan support. But the House wanted to go further and remove the loophole for confessions, fearing that clergy might exploit it by deeming any conversation a “confession” in order to avoid alerting authorities of abuse, as Jehovah’s Witnesses elders have done in other states.
Across the country, the Catholic Church, Jehovah’s Witnesses and the Mormon church have successfully blocked many other attempts to close confession loopholes, the Associated Press has reported. Earlier this month, the Arizona Supreme Court ruled that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints could refuse to turn over information on child sexual abuse if they learn of the crime during a confessional setting.
Washington, however, would not have been the first state to require clergy to report child abuse or neglect learned during a confession. Six other states, along with Guam, already do so.
During the debate of the bill this year, former Jehovah’s Witnesses who have since soured on the religion testified in support of removing the confession loophole, saying they had known Jehovah’s Witness elders to hide sexual abuse allegations. Elders with each congregation are instructed to report allegations to the religion’s headquarters. But they are told they have no obligation to report allegations to authorities unless it is required by state law.
In the House, the debate surrounding the bill was spirited and often heartfelt. There was bipartisan support for adding clergy to the mandatory list and closing the confessional loophole. In the Senate, Republicans opposed closing the loophole, and a handful of Democrats voted with them on April 17.
Frame expressed disappointment that the bill didn’t pass this session.
“It was a very tough outcome, and I must admit that my feelings are still a bit raw,” Frame said.
Still, she is hopeful that the bill can pass next year. The bill will be returned to the Senate Rules Committee when the 2024 legislative session begins, she said.
“Now that I know which of my colleagues have the strongest concerns about the details of closing the exemption, I’ll have a chance to talk with them over the interim and see if I can answer their questions and get us to a ‘yes,’” Frame told InvestigateWest. “I look forward to trying again next year.”
A new report has revealed concerning details about clergy sex abuse in Maryland and the Archdiocese of Baltimore’s failure to protect children from predator priests. The scandal is similar to the reckoning in Louisiana over sexual abuse in the Catholic church. The findings from the Maryland Attorney General’s Office are a reminder that the clergy sex abuse crisis isn’t limited to one state. In Maryland and Louisiana, church leaders failed to report abuse to law enforcement, leading to offenders continuing to spend time with children.
The Maryland report covers 80 years and emphasizes how the church fell short in keeping children safe from harm. “The sheer number of abusers and victims, the depravity of the abusers’ conduct, and the frequency with which known abusers were given the opportunity to continue preying upon children are astonishing,” it reads. The report details how some priests were allowed to retire quietly after facing abuse allegations. In other cases, victims reported the crime to priests who were abusers themselves. Many of the clergy members accused of abuse died without facing any accountability for their crimes.
A Failure To Report Sex Abuse
While clergy are mandatory reporters in many situations, there are loopholes. In many states, clergy can choose not to report sex abuse in certain circumstances. For example, Louisiana priests don’t have to alert law enforcement about sex abuse allegations if they are revealed during confession. The Maryland report found that even when priests did report sex crimes, law enforcement often failed to investigate appropriately.
It’s not unusual for the government to investigate the Catholic Church. At least 20 states have opened investigations into the church in recent years. Last June, the FBI opened a probe into sex abuse within the Roman Catholic Church in New Orleans. The results of the investigation haven’t yet been made public.
Sex Abuse Lookback Laws
Last month, Maryland’s legislature passed the Child Victims Act of 2023, a bill that allows sex abuse survivors to sue their offenders regardless of when the abuse took place. Previously, victims couldn’t sue after they turned 38 years old. So-called “lookback laws” have gained traction nationwide. Last year, Louisiana passed a similar law allowing victims a two-year window to sue for sex abuse regardless of when the offense occurred. These laws recognize the complexity of recovering from child sex abuse. It can take decades for a survivor to come forward; the median age for reporting is 52 years old. Removing the statute of limitations for child sex abuse lawsuits allows victims to seek justice on their terms.
Unlike Louisiana, Maryland’s law is in effect permanently. Victims can bring forward lawsuits indefinitely, even if a crime occurred decades ago. In contrast, Louisiana victims only have until June 14, 2024, to file lawsuits. And unfortunately, Louisiana’s sex abuse lookback law is being challenged by a lawsuit claiming the law is unconstitutional. The Louisiana Supreme Court just heard oral arguments in T.S. v. Congregation of Holy Cross Southern Province on May 1. Other state lookback laws have also been challenged, but the courts have ruled in favor of the lookback laws. It’s unclear when the Louisiana Supreme Court will issue its ruling, but it will impact current and future lawsuits. Child sex abuse victims should still consider their legal options while waiting for the Court’s ruling and before time runs out.
The Impact Of Sex Abuse
It’s difficult to overstate how damaging clergy sex abuse can be for victims. Places of worship are supposed to be safe havens, but abusive authority figures can use their power to prey on children. Clergy sex abuse can cause mental health conditions like post-traumatic stress disorder, anxiety, and depression. Children who are abused might exhibit behavioral problems and struggle with signs of trauma. These adverse effects can follow sex abuse survivors and make it difficult to adjust to adulthood. Some victims report trouble finding employment or staying in school because of their violating experiences.
Louisiana sex abuse lawsuits can provide victims with compensation to help them move forward. While no amount of money can erase the effects of trauma, having funds for therapy, lost wages, and pain and suffering. Additionally, if a powerful institution like the Catholic Church acted negligently and didn’t stop the abuse, they may be found liable in court.
Louisiana lawsuits under the “lookback window” must be filed by next summer, so moving quickly is essential. Herman Herman Katz represents more survivors of sexual abuse in the New Orleans archdiocese bankruptcy than any other firm involved. If you’re considering legal action, let us help. Call our firm at 844-943-7626 or contact us online for a free and confidential case evaluation or more information.
