Wounded Souls

“I recognize that it is not in the best interest of the diocese to try these cases in court,” he said as persuasively as he could, “and it is precisely because of the themes you are espousing that I am willing to offer you such a substantial settlement.” Monsignor Nixon paused, carefully considering his next statement. “Although I would need to counsel further with the Diocesan Finance Committee, I might be able to improve the offer if you were to tell me a modest increase could achieve finality.” “Monsignor, your offer is so incredibly low and your justification for its inadequacy so incredibly insensitive, I am having difficulty believing you are indeed acting in good faith. However, accepting for the moment that you are, allow me to let you in on a small secret.” The attorney lowered his voice to a near whisper. “It’s not just the money.” “It – it isn’t?” “No. My clients are angry and money alone will never sufficiently compensate them for the outrage they feel against the church. The faith they need to cope with the trials of life has forever been traumatized. They have lost their innocence, their virginity, their security and their childhood. Their anger is fueled by a belief that a secretive, abusive, selfish church hierarchy lost sight of and is out of touch with the gospel message taught by their purported savior. Now you plead for forgiveness and offer economic compensation, and at one time, such a response would have been gratefully - and eagerly – welcomed. And accepted. But instead, the church responded with arrogance, defiance, ignorance and indifference. For the tragic victims of Clergy Sexual Abuse, it will not be the monetary value of a settlement that will promote the healing of these terrible wounds. No, these wounds can and will only be healed by the victims witnessing a hypocritical church sacrifice its ill-deserved wealth to pay it!” “You’re telling me no amount I could offer would be enough?” “If I did that, it would be I who would be negotiating in bad faith. In civil litigation like this, the relief sought is measured by money damages, so yes, there is an amount my clients would be prepared to accept as settlement. At one of the meetings held by Judge Anderson in 2004, when he was trying to get that unctuous idiot from the insurance company to contribute something, I told everyone, including your Bishop Menusa, that a settlement averaging $1 million per victim would be acceptable. But the insurance company refused to negotiate and Bishop Menusa embarked upon a road of incredible stonewalling and hostility.” The attorney paused and Monsignor Nixon closed his eyes as he waited for the demand. “Well, times have changed, haven’t they? Given the recent legal developments I would not now recommend to my clients accepting any offer less than one averaging $3.1 million each.” All remaining color blanched from the Monsignor’s face. $3.1 million per plaintiff! Incredible! “That’s…that’s… half a billion dollars,” Monsignor Nixon gasped. “You can’t be serious. The diocese could never possibly afford that.” “Considering verdicts and settlements of other clergy sexual abuse cases around the nation, it is more than justified,” replied Blair flatly. “And please, I beg of you, don’t insult me by pleading imaginary poverty.” “I am telling you the absolute truth,” replied the Monsignor indignantly. “If you haven’t been given a copy of our most recent audited financial statements, I will send you a set immediately. Please let me …” “Sell an oil well! Sell a TV station!” shouted Blair into the telephone. “Sell an apartment building, commercial project or condominium complex! But please, please don’t tell me the diocese doesn’t have the money.” “We have no oil wells, TV stations, apartment buildings, commercial projects or condominium complexes. We are not the Archdiocese of Los Angeles!” “Then close a few parishes or schools and sell property! You have plenty of those.” “The diocese doesn’t own and cannot sell any of the parish properties,” Monsignor Nixon tried to explain, shocked at the man’s callousness. Close a few parishes? The spiritual insensitivity was incredible. “Canon Law stipulates that those properties are controlled by the individual parishes, not the diocese.” “Your diocese will not be permitted to hide behind church law, Monsignor, not here in the United States where over 200 years of federal jurisprudence holds that no one, including religious institutions, is above civil law. And please spare me your false protestations of poverty. I have a folder full of undisputed published accounts from Philadelphia to Chicago to Los Angeles detailing the extravagant use the church has made of the people’s money to build mansions and refurbish personal estates that render your assertion dubious, if not fallacious.” “Please, please be reasonable,” pleaded an exasperated Monsignor Nixon. “You can’t get blood out of a stone.” “The irony is mind boggling,” replied the attorney with exasperation of his own. “At one point in time, every last one of my clients would have been content with an opportunity to tell their stories, hear the church acknowledge their responsibility, receive a genuine apology and witness the punishment of the malefactors but ---” “I give you my word; we will do all of those things.” “---instead,” continued Touchdown Blair coldly, ignoring the Monsignor’s entreaty, “the church victimized them a second time. Now my clients want the world to hear your explanation for the Bishop’s actions and your lame defenses to such a monumental breach of trust. They want to fully expose the callous indifference, financial belligerence and the shroud of secrecy engaged in by your diocese.” The attorney paused, and in a voice resonating with passionate, righteous anger, continued. “No, Monsignor, my clients don’t want blood out of a stone, they just want their day in court. They want the diocese to feel the same level of agonizing pain that they have felt. THEY WANT JUSTICE! Your insulting $10 million offer is rejected and this conversation is now over!”