Wall Street Journal By DOROTHY RABINOWITZ April 28, 2005
Nine years after he had been convicted and sent to prison on charges of sexual
assault against a teenaged boy, Father Gordon MacRae received a letter in July
2003 from Nixon Peabody LLP. law film representing the Diocese of Manchester,
N.H. Under the circumstances -- he was a priest serving a life term -- and after
all he had seen, the cordial-sounding inquiry should not perhaps have chilled
him as much as it did.
". . . an individual named Brett McKenzie has brought a claim against the Diocese of Manchester seeking a financial settlement as a result of alleged conduct by you," the letter informed him. There was a limited window of opportunity for an agreement that would release him and the Diocese from liability. He should understand, the lawyer added, that this request didn't require Fr. MacRae to acknowledge in any way what Mr. McKenzie had alleged. "Rather, I simply need to know whether you would object to a settlement agreement."
Fr. MacRae promptly fired a letter off, through his lawyer, declaring he had no idea who Mr. McKenzie was, had never met him, and he was confounded by the request that he assent to any such payment. Neither he nor his lawyers ever received any response. Fr. MacRae had little doubt that the stranger -- like others who had emerged, long after trial, with allegations and attorneys, and, frequently, just-recovered memories of abuse -- got his settlement.
By the time he was taken off to prison in 1994, payouts for such claims against priests promised to surpass the rosiest dreams of civil attorneys. The promise was duly realized: In 2003, the Boston Archdiocese paid $85 million for some 54 claimants. The Portland, Ore., Archdiocese, which had already handed over some $53 million, declared bankruptcy in 2004, when confronted with $155 million in new claims. Those of Tucson and Spokane soon did the same. [...]
". . . an individual named Brett McKenzie has brought a claim against the Diocese of Manchester seeking a financial settlement as a result of alleged conduct by you," the letter informed him. There was a limited window of opportunity for an agreement that would release him and the Diocese from liability. He should understand, the lawyer added, that this request didn't require Fr. MacRae to acknowledge in any way what Mr. McKenzie had alleged. "Rather, I simply need to know whether you would object to a settlement agreement."
Fr. MacRae promptly fired a letter off, through his lawyer, declaring he had no idea who Mr. McKenzie was, had never met him, and he was confounded by the request that he assent to any such payment. Neither he nor his lawyers ever received any response. Fr. MacRae had little doubt that the stranger -- like others who had emerged, long after trial, with allegations and attorneys, and, frequently, just-recovered memories of abuse -- got his settlement.
By the time he was taken off to prison in 1994, payouts for such claims against priests promised to surpass the rosiest dreams of civil attorneys. The promise was duly realized: In 2003, the Boston Archdiocese paid $85 million for some 54 claimants. The Portland, Ore., Archdiocese, which had already handed over some $53 million, declared bankruptcy in 2004, when confronted with $155 million in new claims. Those of Tucson and Spokane soon did the same. [...]
If the events leading to Fr. MacRae's prosecution had all the makings of dark
fiction, the trial itself perfectly reflected the realities confronting
defendants in cases of this kind. For the complainant in this case, as for many
others seeking financial settlements, a criminal trial -- with its discovery
requirements, cross examinations, and the possibility, even, of defeat -- was a
highly undesirable complication. The therapist preparing Thomas Grover for his
civil suit against the diocese sent news, enthusiastically informing him that
she'd had word from the police that Gordon MacRae had been offered a plea deal he could not refuse, and that the client could
probably rest assured there would be no trial. On the contrary, Fr. MacRae would
over the next months refuse two attractive pretrial plea deals, the second
offering a mere one to three years for an admission of guilt.[...]
Having given his reasons, the judge then sentenced the priest, now 42, to
consecutive terms on the charges, a sentence of 33-and-a-half to 67 years, Since
no parole is given to offenders who do not confess, it would be in effect a life
term. [....]
In the years since his conviction, nearly all accusers who had a part in
conviction -- along with some who did not -- received settlements. Jay, the
second of the Grover sons -- who had, Detective McLaughlin's notes show,
repeatedly insisted that the priest had done nothing amiss -¬came forward with
his claim for settlement in the late '90s. And in 2004, the subject in the
Spofford Hospital incident, Michael Rossi -- "This is confession, right?" --
came forward with his claim.
"There will be others," predicts Fr. MacRae, whose second appeal of the conviction lies somewhere in the future. His tone is, as usual, vibrant, though shading to darkness when he thinks of the possibility of his expulsion from the priesthood -- a reminder that there could be prospects ahead harder to bear than a life in prison.
"There will be others," predicts Fr. MacRae, whose second appeal of the conviction lies somewhere in the future. His tone is, as usual, vibrant, though shading to darkness when he thinks of the possibility of his expulsion from the priesthood -- a reminder that there could be prospects ahead harder to bear than a life in prison.