Applied Theology

[MavKikiNYC]

Church Lawyer Saw Abuse Suits From Both Sides
By LAURIE GOODSTEIN

Published: November 25, 2003


For five years, Robert P. Scamardo defended the Roman Catholic Diocese of Galveston-Houston against lawsuits by people who claimed to have been sexually abused by priests.

As general counsel, he vigorously resisted accusers, he said, fending off their lawsuits and collaborating with church officials to send them away quietly, with as little money as possible.

He said he felt good about his job until one negotiating session with a gray-haired woman who said, through tears, that the molesting she suffered long ago was still causing her depression, marital strife and sexual problems. "You can't possibly understand," she insisted.

Mr. Scamardo said he desperately wanted to tell her, "Yes, I do."

Of the thousands of people who have fought the church over sexual abuse charges, Mr. Scamardo is the only one known to have fought from both sides.

While representing the church as a trusted insider, Mr. Scamardo said, he was secretly struggling to cope with his own sexual abuse as a teenager by a priest and a lay youth minister. The conflict between his inner and outer selves brought anguish, thoughts of suicide and finally a confrontation with the diocese. When he sought compensation from the church as an abuse victim this year, he came up against a bishop and lawyers aggressively guarding church assets.

In an interview in Houston, Mr. Scamardo provided a window into how church lawyers worked to deter lawsuits, minimize the church's payouts, limit coverage for therapy and keep any settlements secret.

It was always the church, he said, that insisted on inserting confidentiality clauses in the settlements — never the victims, as many bishops have contended. He said that while the eruption of the scandal last year had made bishops more likely to express compassion toward victims, the church's lawyers were still playing hardball behind the scenes.

And he said he was certain there were many more abusive priests and victims than have become public.

Mr. Scamardo said he left his post when the dissonance between his past and his present became so unbearable he began to think of suicide. Three weeks ago, after months of wrangling, he signed a financial settlement with the Diocese of Austin, where he said the abuse occurred.

"If they're playing the game with me like that this year, then nothing has changed," Mr. Scamardo said.

Bishop Gregory M. Aymond of Austin declined to give an interview, but said in a statement: "I deeply regret any pain Mr. Scamardo may have suffered and pray that he will know God's healing. While we cannot change the past, the diocese has established extensive programs to prevent sexual abuse in our parishes and schools in the future."

The statement said the diocese had paid for "extensive counseling for Mr. Scamardo."

In the Diocese of Galveston-Houston, where Mr. Scamardo worked, Msgr. Frank H. Rossi, the chancellor who hired him, and Bishop Joseph A. Fiorenza declined to comment, saying they wanted to protect his confidentiality as a former employee.

Annette Gonzales Taylor, the director of communications for the diocese, said that she had worked with Mr. Scamardo and considered him a friend but that she and others had no idea he was carrying such a burden until soon before he left.

"Robert is a very good man, and he was a very valued employee here," she said. "We were heartbroken, devastated when we learned from him what had happened."

Mr. Scamardo, 44, said he still struggled not to feel ashamed about what happened when he was 15 and the newly elected president of the Catholic Youth Organization for the Diocese of Austin.

He was invited to a convention of the Texas Catholic Conference in San Antonio and, he said, did not raise questions when the Rev. Dan Delaney, director for youth ministry for the Austin Diocese, arranged for them to share a hotel room. That night, Mr. Scamardo said, he awoke to find Father Delaney on top of him, masturbating him. Mr. Scamardo said he ran into the hallway. The priest never mentioned the matter, he said.

Mr. Scamardo said he soon told James Reese, the lay youth minister at Sacred Heart Parish in Austin, who listened sympathetically — then sexually abused him on several occasions.

The Diocese of Austin said neither of the men accused of abuse was now in ministry. Reached by telephone in Houston, Mr. Delaney said he remembered Mr. Scamardo "vaguely." Asked whether he had sexually abused him, Mr. Delaney said, "I don't have any comment on that, thank you," and hung up.

In a letter to Mr. Scamardo in March, Bishop Aymond wrote that Mr. Delaney had been laicized by the Vatican in 1987. Mr. Reese was enrolled as a seminarian for the Diocese of Austin as recently as September 2002. But he was dismissed immediately after Mr. Scamardo identified him as one of his abusers, the bishop said.

Mr. Reese, reached by phone in Austin on Saturday, said, "While it may be true we did have a relationship, I don't think it's the way he says."

He added of Mr. Scamardo: "I hope he heals, I really do. I've been praying a lot for him. But any explanation I might give might deter from that healing because I don't remember the events the way he does."

For 27 years, Mr. Scamardo said, he went into "shutdown" about the abuse, telling no one else. Instead, he studied to be a priest at the Pontifical Gregorian University in Rome, but dropped out a year before ordination when he became aware he could never be celibate. He worked on Capitol Hill, married and had three children but never told his wife about the abuse. He went to law school, was hired by a firm in Houston and was headed for partner, he said.

In 1997, Monsignor Rossi, an old seminary classmate, recruited him to work as general counsel in the Galveston-Houston diocese. Mr. Scamardo said he was idealistic about serving the church but blind to "something unhealthy" about his decision.

Church lawyers at that time, he said, were reeling from a recent jury decision in Dallas to award $119.5 million to 11 plaintiffs who had been sexually abused by a priest, Rudolph Kos. The lesson for the church's lawyers, Mr. Scamardo said, was "these are not the sort of cases you want to get in front of a jury."

So, he said, he devoted about half of his time as general counsel to negotiating with sexual abuse victims, investigating their claims and finding ways to limit the church's liability. He estimated that he handled cases involving 20 to 30 victims but said he dealt only with those who retained lawyers and sued. There were more victims who contacted the chancery without intending to sue, he said.

The Diocese of Galveston-Houston has not made public how many of its priests have been accused, said Mrs. Gonzales Taylor, the director of communications. Research published in The New York Times in January found five accused priests in that diocese, but Mr. Scamardo said he was aware of more.

This is true for many dioceses, said some church officials who were unwilling to be named but who knew partial results of a survey the bishops have commissioned to assess the extent of the abuse. That report is to be released in February.

Mr. Scamardo said that throughout the 1990's, Bishop Fiorenza consistently removed priests credibly accused of abuse. But, Mr. Scamardo said, the bishop told parishes only that priests were leaving for "personal reasons" or "medical leave of absence."

"They assume that all sorts of people are going to fabricate claims, as if everyone wants to be known as a sexual abuse victim," Mr. Scamardo said.

Most victims' cases were beyond the statute of limitations, so the diocese could offer little to settle a case, perhaps just the cost of a short course of therapy, he said. If that failed, he said, church lawyers would petition to have cases dismissed on First Amendment grounds, arguing that the government must not meddle in church matters.

The settlements always had a confidentiality clause. Like other diocesan lawyers, Mr. Scamardo said, he often added a clause specifying how much the victim would have to pay the church for breaking confidentiality.

The standard approach was to offer to pay only for the victims' counseling, and even this came with strings attached, he said. The diocese kept a list of preferred therapists and limited the number of sessions it would pay for. A year of counseling was considered generous, Mr. Scamardo said. He said he found that unfair, saying it had taken three years of counseling before he began to talk about his sexual abuse.

And yet, by all accounts, Mr. Scamardo was an aggressive and successful advocate for the diocese.

George E. Cire, a Houston lawyer who represented a family that sued the church in 2000, said: "Certainly he was not overly sympathetic to the victims. Not that he was overly confrontational with them, but he just didn't give in."

"My guess is he took such a hard stance just to cover up any sympathy he may have been feeling for the victims," Mr. Cire said.

Mr. Scamardo said his anguish built gradually. First there was the gray-haired woman. Then a victim he had met committed suicide. In June 2002, with the scandal in Boston propelling victims forward, Mr. Scamardo said he got an e-mail message from a man who said he had been abused by Dan Delaney — the priest in the hotel room.

Mr. Scamardo said it dawned on him then: a man abused by a priest as a teenage boy had spent most of his legal career defending priests who abused teenage boys.

By August 2002, Mr. Scamardo said, he was thinking about suicide. A victim walked out of a mediation session, and Mr. Scamardo said he felt "like the enemy."

In September, he wrote long letters to Bishops Fiorenza and Aymond revealing his abuse. He asked Bishop Aymond to help pay for a month at a residential treatment center north of Dallas. He stayed nearly three months, which cost the Austin diocese $33,443.

He went back to work, but felt awkward, he said . While he had been a frequent visitor to Bishop Fiorenza's office, now he could not get in, he said. He declared his intention to resign, and asked for a little time.

Meanwhile, regarding it as a friendly negotiation, Mr. Scamardo wrote the bishop of Austin suggesting a settlement of $437,500 to cover medical bills for him and his family, lost income, pain and suffering.

In a March 25 response, which Mr. Scamardo shared with The Times, Bishop Aymond, who began serving in Austin in 2001, apologized profusely and said he wanted to help. He reminded Mr. Scamardo that his claim was beyond the statute of limitations, and countered with $50,000 plus medical expenses for 12 months.

Since insurance would not cover it, the bishop warned, "any financial settlement would be taken from the money that is given by the parishioners on Sunday in the collection."

Mr. Scamardo, angry and offended, began looking for a lawyer. Within 10 days, the Diocese of Galveston-Houston hired a new general counsel. Mr. Scamardo quit in May.

On Oct. 29, he signed a settlement with the Diocese of Austin for $250,000. He has opened his own law practice in Houston. He says he does not think he can emotionally handle sexual abuse cases but may serve as an expert witness in trials.

He said he prayed and believed in God "more than ever." But the last time he went to church was on the Feast of the Pentecost in June. "I have a lot of grief because my whole belief system in the church is just gone," he said.

[bogey]

This whole thing is disturbing.

[MavKikiNYC]

Lay youth minister.......

There really has to be a less unfortunate job title.

[dallas_esq]

You take a male human. You tell him he can't have sex or think about sex. You expect him to a) not go crazy and b) not be gay to choose this line in the first place. Faulty logic.

[MavKikiNYC]

b) not be gay to choose this line in the first place.

I think that you allude to a potentially interesting angle, but there are also numerous instances of heterosexual sexual improprieties in the church--sexual assault by male priests against female parishoners, pregnancies resulting from sexual relationship between male priests and female parishoners, long-term sexual affairs between male priests and female parishoners. Of course, I'm not sure what the relative incidence is of acts of heterosexual abuse to acts of homosexual abuse is--my sense is that since the latter is more sensational, it gets more and louder coverage. But in the last 3-4 years in New York, there have been cases of all of the above (sexual assault, pregnancy, affairs) reported involving (presumably heterosexual) members of the priesthood. No one attempts to link this to some inherently deviant aspect of heterosexuality, and in the same sense, instances of sexual improprieties involving male priests and male victims should not be ascribed to any inherent aspect of homosexuality. Abuse is abuse, and responsibility has to lie primarily with the individual, rather than using the acts to smear and indict a more abstract category of people.

That said, I think there may be something to your observation. For same-sex oriented individuals who've been told all of their lives from every conceivable source--from church teachings to societal/familial mocking and reprobation--that their fundamental orientation is 'sinful' and 'wrong', the conceptual 'lifestyle' of the priesthood (i.e., celibacy in the service of the church (and hopefully, in service of God)) may well seem like an attractive alternative for individuals struggling to struggling to reconcile their sexuality. People in this position are often driven to extreme measures to try to avoid the mocking and rejection of society; to avoid being a "disappointment" or "embarrassment" to their parents and family; and to avoid what they've been taught to consider "sin".

Some individuals may choose to attempt to live a single and more-or-less celibate lifestyle. If they diverge from this path one way or another, then they're probably regarded as nothing more than an individual.

Other individuals may marry and perhaps even have families in an attempt to "change" or at least "escape" from some of their most fundamental inner feelings, and what is unknown is how many of these people live this way (more or less happily) for the rest of their lives. But the change in course draws attention, and this has been a not altogether infrequent occurence.

Still other individuals may attempt to live an even more extreme (and not in any negative sense) lifestyle--celibacy in the service of the church. When these individuals fail, because of the role of the church in society and because of these individuals' heightened profiles as servants of the church, the failures take on an additional degree and dimension of notoriety.

I can certainly respect any individual, heterosexual or homosexual, who undertakes this path and lives it successfully in the service of the church. Likewise, I can certainly understand how there is the a very large potential for failure.

[MavKikiNYC]

Also, this is not a problem restricted to the Catholic church and the issue of celibacy among priests (heterosexual or homosexual). Because Catholicism is institutionalized to such a greater degree than Protestant faiths, when there is an abuse, there is a more easily identifiable entity to hold responsible (and the entity itself acts more monolithically to protect church assets.) But the problem is also common among Protestant faiths as well.

Where does the Baptist buck stop?
Terry Mattingly

The clergy sexual abuse statistics were staggering.

Local reports from angry, hurt and humiliated laypeople were too horrifying to ignore.
So the assembled church leaders decided that they had to say something, they had to call for some kind of action because they were facing a nasty moral crisis.

"We encourage those religious bodies dealing with the tragedy of clergy abuse in their efforts to rid their ranks of predatory ministers," said their June 12 resolution. "We call on civil authorities to punish to the fullest extent of the law sexual abuse among clergy and counselors. ...

"We call on our churches to discipline those guilty of any sexual abuse ... as well as to cooperate with civil authorities in the prosecution of those cases."

Thus, the "messengers" to the annual meeting of the Southern Baptist Convention acknowledged that America's largest non-Catholic flock has been hit by waves of clergy sexual abuse affecting untold numbers of women, men, teen-agers and children. The resolution, which passed with little opposition, called for "ministers of the gospel -- whether they are pastors, counselors, educators, missionaries, chaplains or others -- to be above reproach morally, both within the body of Christ and in the larger community."

The intent of this is clear. Yet the statement also demonstrates why it will be hard for freewheeling and autonomous Protestant congregations to attack clergy sexual abuse.
While news media have repeatedly focused on abuse among Catholics, Protestant insiders have also long known that many of their own clergy -- especially youth workers and pastors who do counseling -- were breaking the laws of God and man.

"The incidence of sexual abuse by clergy has reached 'horrific proportions,' " according to a 2000 report to the Baptist General Convention of Texas. It noted that studies conducted in the 1980s found that about 12 percent of ministers had "engaged in sexual intercourse with members" and nearly 40 percent had "acknowledged sexually inappropriate behavior."

Sadly, this report added: "Recent surveys by religious journals and research institutes support these figures. The disturbing aspect of all research is that the rate of incidence for clergy exceeds the client-professional rate for both physicians and psychologists."

Where does the buck stop, when sexual abuse hits Protestant pulpits? The Southern Baptist resolution calls on local churches to discipline sex offenders. Yet the most powerful person in modern Protestantism is a successful pastor whose preaching and people skills keep packing people into the pews. Can his own church board truly investigate and discipline that pastor?

Once that question is asked, others quickly follow.

If the board of deacons in a Southern Baptist congregation faced an in-house sex scandal and wanted help, where could it turn? It could seek help from its competition, the circle of churches in its local association. Or it could appeal to its state convention. In some states, "conservative" and "moderate" churches would need to choose between competing conventions linked to these rival Baptist camps. Or could a church appeal for help from the boards and agencies of the 16-million-member national convention?

Everything depends on that local church and everything is voluntary. One more question: What Baptist leader would dare face the liability issues involved in guiding such a process?

"Just think of all the places where this process could go off the rails," said historian Timothy Weber, dean of Northern Baptist Theological Seminary near Chicago. "One church would have to take the initiative to voluntarily report the information on a bad pastor. Then another church would have to voluntarily go through the process of asking for information so that they can screen a pastor that it is thinking about hiring."

Some state conventions might have the staff and know how to create a data bank of information of clergy sexual abuse. But for Baptist leaders to do so, they would risk clashing with their tradition's total commitment to the freedom and the autonomy of the local congregation.

"The fact is," said Weber, "there is no Baptist clearing house for this information -- anywhere. There is no one keeper of the files, nobody out there who has the power to intervene when something goes wrong and people start pointing fingers. There is no there, out there."

[MavKikiNYC]

Ecclesiastical Finance 101.

Vow of poverty? Poverty schmoverty. Opulence schmouplence.

Boston Archbishop Will Sell Residence for Payout
By PAM BELLUCK

Published: December 4, 2003

BOSTON, Dec. 3 — The Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Boston said on Wednesday that to help pay an $85 million settlement to compensate hundreds of victims of sexual abuse by members of the clergy it would sell the archbishop's grand residence, which housed Boston's Catholic Church leaders for 75 years.

The residence, modeled after an Italian palazzo and appointed in marble and mahogany, had long been an embodiment of the church's stature in heavily Roman Catholic Boston, but it had become a despised symbol in the sexual abuse crisis. As the home of then-Archbishop Bernard F. Law, the residence, in the Brighton neighborhood, represented what many perceived as the archdiocese's indifference to its abused and angry parishioners.

In fact, last summer when Archbishop Sean P. O'Malley took the place of Cardinal Law, who resigned under pressure, he quickly decided he would not live in the residence and moved into a small rectory behind the city's cathedral, a good distance from Brighton.

Yet, even then, archdiocese officials continued to say there were no plans to sell the residence to pay for the settlement.

On Wednesday, an archdiocese spokesman, the Rev. Christopher Coyne, said Archbishop O'Malley had realized he had no choice.

"The archbishop had said that in order to pay for the settlement he would not use any present parish assets, or money from the Catholic Appeal or from the capital campaign," said Father Coyne, referring to church fund-raising campaigns. "That left him very few assets to use, and the only big one that was left was the residence. He did what needed to be done."

The residence is part of a 60-acre property that includes St. John's Seminary and the chancery buildings, which house the archdiocese's administrative offices. Father Coyne said about 28 of the acres would be put up for sale, including a gymnasium and a garage near the seminary, about 19 acres of fields and about 9 acres around the residence.

Father Coyne would not say what the property was expected to sell for. In September 2002, at the height of the sexual abuse crisis, the archdiocese took out a $38 million mortgage on the entire 60 acres. In August, The Boston Globe reported that the church had spent about $27 million of that line of credit, which was given to the archdiocese last year by the Knights of Columbus. It is not clear how the mortgage would affect the value of the sale.

Father Coyne said the archdiocese expected that the balance of the $85 million settlement would be paid for out of two insurance policies.

"We are very confident that between the two sources we will be able to realize the $85 million," he said.

Robert Morrissey, a member of the archdiocesan finance council, which would have to approve the terms of any sale, said he believed the 28 acres, by itself, was "worth much more" than the $85 million.

"There's no question in my mind that there's more than enough to cover the settlement," he said. "But it's a real stab in the heart for the church because they're giving away maybe the most valuable piece of property the church owns in all of Massachusetts."

Mr. Morrissey said he supported the sale to pay for the abuse settlements because "from my point of view, it should come out of the church."

"It shouldn't come out of fat cats' " donating money to the church, he said, adding "I think it should hurt."

He also said he did not believe that proceeds from the sale of the 28 acres would be used to offset the mortgage, which could remain attached to the rest of the estate.

The decision to sell the residence, which the archbishop made late Wednesday after consulting with various archdiocesan committees, was applauded by abuse victims, parishioners and others.

"Bravo," said Gary Bergeron, one of the 552 abuse victims who will be compensated out of the settlement. "We had asked them to do that so many times over the last two years, and at all of those meetings we've had, we had suggested that as a symbolic step, if nothing else."

Bernie McDaid, another victim, said, "My first gut reaction is I wish they did this a long time ago, and it would have meant more to me."

Francis Schussler Fiorenza, professor of Roman Catholic studies at Harvard, said the sale of the residence, built in 1926, "does have symbolic value."

"I think it's very important in terms of leadership," Professor Fiorenza said.

At least one potential bidder for the 28 acres has already emerged: Boston College, which is across the street from the Brighton property.

Although Boston College has long indicated that it would be interested in the property, John B. Dunn, a spokesman for the college, said on Wednesday night that the fact that the archbishop actually decided to sell it was unanticipated.

"We were surprised," Mr. Dunn said. "Given the proximity, Boston College has an interest in the property."

[MavKikiNYC]

Advanced Ecclesiastical Finance.

Priest Accused of Bilking Pashioner
By THE ASSOCIATED PRESS

Published: July 13, 2004


Filed at 8:52 a.m. ET

NEW YORK (AP) -- A Catholic priest has been accused in a lawsuit of bilking a parishioner in her 80s out of nearly $500,000 over a three-year period.

Court papers say Monsignor John Woolsey, pastor of St. John the Martyr Church on Manhattan's Upper East Side, used undue influence as a priest to get Rose Cale to sign over at least $490,000 in cash and securities to him. Cale died at 88 on Jan. 12, 2003.

Court papers also allege that Woolsey, 66, took for his personal use part of a $241,500 charitable gift Cale made to the church. Brian Caplan, lawyer for Cale estate executrix Janet Naegele, said he wasn't sure of the amount.

New York archdiocese spokesman Joseph Zwilling said he was aware of Naegele's accusations against Woolsey but had not seen the lawsuit and could not comment. He said had not known that she included the archdiocese as a defendant.

Caplan said Naegele found out about Woolsey's alleged misappropriations of Cale's money when she and audit professionals started reviewing Cale's brokerage accounts, receipts and checks she had written to the priest and the church.

Woolsey, confronted about his alleged misappropriations of Cale's assets, said she had given him just $80,000 and he didn't see anything wrong with that, say court papers filed Monday in Manhattan's state Supreme Court.

Caplan said, ``They did a review and ascertained the number was actually $490,000.''

Court papers say that when Naegele spoke to church officials about Woolsey's conduct they rejected responsibility for any wrongdoing, claiming that he was ``an independent contractor.''

Woolsey persuaded Cale in 1999 to leave Prudential Securities, her brokerage of 20 years, and sign up with Melhado Flynn & Associates Inc., the brokerage firm where Woolsey had his stock portfolio, court papers say.

The monsignor subsequently got Cale to transfer many of her holdings to him and to establish a joint account with the right of survivorship, meaning that if one of them died the survivor would get the account.

Also in 1999, court papers say, Woolsey and Cale talked about his hopes to buy a condominium on the New Jersey shore. Cale then offered, and Woolsey accepted, $100,000 he used to buy the condo, court papers say. Caplan said the condo was in Monmouth Beach.

Cale, who never married, attended church almost daily from 1997 when she joined the parish until she died, court papers say. Woolsey ``interjected himself into Miss Cale's daily affairs of both a personal and business nature,'' the papers say.

Woolsey accompanied Cale to her doctor's appointments, dined with her and signed letters to her with ``Love, Monsignor Woolsey,'' court papers say. ``Monsignor Woolsey did not sign off on correspondence to other parishioners similarly,'' the papers say.

The lawsuit alleges Woolsey used undue influence as a spiritual leader to take Cale's money. It also charges that the archdiocese encourages priests to develop close relationships with parishioners and accept gifts from them.

Cale's last will was signed Dec. 12, 2002, and provided significant bequests to her brother Frank Cale, with whom she had lived her whole life. That will superseded a May 2000 will that she revoked after being made aware of Woolsey's ``undue influence and conduct,'' court papers say.

The value of Cale's estate when she died was $695,430, not including the $490,000 Woolsey had taken, court papers say.

The lawsuit asks that the defendants be required to replace the $490,000 and seeks award damages against Woolsey personally of $50,000.

Caplan said he knew of no criminal charges against Woolsey.