Free Betrayal by The Investigative Staff of the Boston Globe Page B

proportion that to withhold information about a known perpetrator is in and of itself criminal,” Sinibaldi wrote. But when Law unveiled his new policy, in January 1993, Sinibaldi and Anderton were sorely disappointed. Although Law said that the archdiocese would offer to pay for counseling for the victims and that he would appoint a review board with lay members to examine allegations of clergy sexual abuse, he also said that in some cases he might permit priests who had been treated for sexual disorders to return to parish work. And he reserved for the archdiocese the primary responsibility for hearing and investigating all complaints of clergy sexual misconduct.
    Under Massachusetts law, individuals working in two dozen professions, including physicians, social workers, and teachers, were required to report allegations of sexual misconduct with minors to the state's Department of Social Services, which could in turn refer the allegations to law enforcement authorities. In releasing his new policy, Law pledged that Church officials would report allegations of sexual misconduct in accordance with state law. But priests were not among those covered by the statute, and the Church had successfully fought off legislation to add clergy to the list of so-called mandated reporters. So it was largely a meaningless promise.
    Feeling that the Church had once again betrayed them, Sinibaldi and Anderton hired Boston attorney MacLeish to file suit against the archdiocese and Tourigney. In 1995 each of the men received a settlement of $35,000. But Sinibaldi came to regret the outcome. “In the end they used us,” he said. “They wanted to say they had worked with victims on the new policy, and they did say that. The problem is, they didn't hear anything we said.” The other problem was that Sinibaldi and Anderton, like scores of victims who went to the archdiocese, signed confidentiality agreements — or gag orders — as a condition of receiving their settlement payments. In fact virtually all those who went to the Church with claims of sexual misconduct by priests received settlements before they filed suit, an arrangement that left no public record of the crime committed by the abusing priests. And the confidentiality agreements signed by the victims said the Church could get back its settlement payments if details of the abuse were ever divulged— further protection for abusive priests.
    In short, the process led to an unholy alliance among Church officials, victims, and the attorneys. As a result, the archdiocese was able to conceal the crimes committed by its priests. Indeed, in his deposition in the Geoghan case, Bishop Daily said it was the policy of the archdiocese to avoid scandal where possible. Meanwhile, victims were spared embarrassment, while their attorneys collected their fees — generally a third of the settlement awards. Some lawyers called the payments “hush money”; others said they were a legitimate means of compensating victims while preserving their anonymity. But the process also helped to perpetuate the abuse. “Obviously, confidentiality agreements arc good for the perpetrator and his or her enablers, since the secrecy allows for further wrongful acts to continue,” said Mitchell Garabedian, an attorney who represented more than one hundred of Father Geoghan's victims.
    To be sure, earlier Garabedian clients had settled in secret. But by late 2001, Garabedian had spent five years interviewing alleged victims of John Geoghan's sexual abuse, filing lawsuits, requesting Church records through the legal discovery process, and deposing Church officials under oath. Through it all, he compiled a body of evidence showing that cardinals, bishops, and other Church officials had been covering up for Geoghan for more than three decades. These documents were among those released at the request of the
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by Judge Constance Sweeney in January of 2002, and they were at the heart of the lawsuits that were the