The church files are filled with outrage, pain, and confusion. There are handwritten notes from distraught mothers, accounts of furious phone calls from brothers and perplexed inquiries from the police following up on allegations of priests sexually abusing children.
Over four decades, particularly under Cardinal Roger M. Mahony (photo), parishioners in the nation’s largest Roman Catholic archdiocese repeatedly tried to alert church authorities about abusive priests in their midst, trusting that the church would respond appropriately.
But the internal personnel files on 124 priests, released by the archdiocese under court order recently, reveal a very different response: church officials initially disbelieved them and grew increasingly alarmed over the years, only as multiple victims of the same priest came forward and reported similar experiences. Even then, in some cases, priests were shuttled out of state or out of the country to avoid criminal investigations.
A sampling of the twelve thousand pages suggests that Cardinal Mahony and other top church officials dealt with the accusations of abuse regularly and intimately throughout the last several decades. It often took years to even reach the realization that a priest could no longer simply be sent to a rehabilitation center, and instead must be removed from ministry or even defrocked.
In one case, the Reverend José I. Ugarte was accused by a doctor of having drugged and raped a young boy in a hotel in Ensenada, Mexico, and of taking boys every weekend to a cabin in Big Bear in California. But rather than turn Father Ugarte over to the authorities, Cardinal Mahony decided to send him back to Spain, made him sign a document promising not to return to the United States without permission for seven years, not to celebrate Mass in public, and to seek employment in “a secular occupation in order to become self-supporting”.
The current archbishop, José H. Gomez, who succeeded Cardinal Mahony when he retired two years ago, took the unusual if not unprecedented step night of censuring his predecessor, calling the documents he released “brutal and painful reading” and announcing that he was removing him from administrative and public duties. He also accepted the resignation of one of his auxiliary bishops, Thomas Curry.
But in an extraordinary public confrontation between bishops, Cardinal Mahony adamantly defended himself, posting on his blog a letter he had sent to Archbishop Gomez. The Cardinal insisted that his approach to sexual abuse evolved as he learned more over the years, and that his Archdiocese had been in the forefront of reforms to prevent abuse and respond to victims. Cardinal Mahony implied that his successor’s censure of him was unexpected and unwarranted: “Not once over these past years did you ever raise any questions about our policies, practices, or procedures in dealing with the problem of clergy sexual misconduct involving minors.”
Church experts agreed that it was the first time that a bishop had publicly condemned another bishop’s failures in the abuse scandal, which has occupied the American bishops for nearly three decades. They also said that Archbishop Gomez had gone as far as he could under the Church’s canon laws to discipline Cardinal Mahony. He could not, they said, take away his authority to celebrate Mass, but he did order him not to preside at confirmations, a ceremonial role that often keeps retired Archbishops in the public eye.
The Los Angeles church files are not unlike other documents unearthed in the church’s long-running abuse scandal in the United States, but it appears to be the largest cache.
In 1977, the mother of a ten-year-old boy wrote to Monseignor John Rawden, saying that George Miller, then a priest at parish in Pacoima, California had taken her son on a fishing trip and molested him. The accusation was noted in Miller’s files, but he denied the charges and was presumed to be innocent. Then, in 1989, another pastor complained that Miller violated church policy by repeatedly having young boys in his room in the rectory and traveling with them.
Miller was sent to a treatment center run by Catholic therapists in St. Louis in 1996. When he was scheduled to be released a year later, Monsignor Richard Loomis— who would eventually face his own allegations of sexual abuse— wrote Father Miller a letter saying that the “recent changes in the child abuse reporting law and the statute of limitations in California have changed the way we have to look at many things in our personnel policies.” Monsignor Loomis went on to say that Miller could not return to the ministry in Los Angeles.
But two months later, in May of 1997, Monsignor Loomis then wrote to Cardinal Mahony, suggesting that Miller could seek to serve as a priest in Mexico through a “benevolent bishop”, or return to California, “begin a secular life”, and live “somewhere that would minimize potential contact with those involved in his situation.”
After leaving St. Louis, Miller returned to California and, by 2004, was under investigation by the police.
In a letter in 2004 to then-Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, now Pope Benedict XVI, Cardinal Mahony wrote: “The story of Father Miller is a very sad one. Clearly he never should have been ordained. Had the kinds of screenings we used now been employed in the 1950s, he would have never been admitted to the seminary.”
The documents also hint at the disillusionment on the part of church officials as they eventually realized that priests who had denied any accusations of abuse were eventually revealed as repeat violators. In the case of Carlos Rodriguez, then a priest in downtown Los Angeles, LAPD investigators called church officials to ask about a report that the priest took two teenage boys to the Grand Canyon and groped one boy’s groin. According to the files, Curry had already written to Cardinal Mahony about the allegation. The police said that when they called the church to speak with Rodriguez, the person who answered the phone responded by saying: “Oh no, they reported it, ” referring to the boy’s family.
In 2004, Rodriguez was sentenced to eight years in prison for molesting two brothers in the early 1990s, years after he was transferred because of the earlier allegations.
Another file chronicles the struggle by Cardinal Mahony and his advisers to discern the truth about accusations against Monsignor Loomis, a priest who himself helped advise the Cardinal on abuse cases against priests in his role as vicar for clergy in the Archdiocesan chancery. The Archdiocese went to great lengths and expense to investigate the case, the files reveal. They interviewed former colleagues of his, one who said that: “Loomis would be the last person he could think of who would be the subject of child molestation charges.”
Eventually, in 2004, after several alleged victims stepped forward and a lawsuit was filed, Cardinal Mahony agreed to place Monsignor Loomis on administrative leave, writing on the document: “Although sad, we must follow our policies and the charter, regardless of where that leads,” a reference to the American bishops’ policies, or “charter” to protect young people.
Many victims said the release of the files felt like a vindication because they showed repeated abuse by the priests that church officials had often denied. “I wasn’t lying, I wasn’t embellishing, I wasn’t making it up,” said Esther Miller, 54, a mother of two who said she was abused by Michael Nocita, a priest, when she was in high school. “It shows the pattern of complicity. It shows the cover-up.”
Cardinal Mahony, who served from 1985 until 2011, when he reached mandatory retirement, has faced calls for his defrocking over his handling of the abuse cases for years. But the Cardinal, a vocal champion of immigrant rights, remained hugely popular with Latinos in Los Angeles, who make up forty percent of the four million parishioners in the archdiocese.
The Church had fought for years to keep the documents secret, and until this week it argued that the names of top church officials should be kept private. But Judge Emilie Elias rejected the church’s requests to redact the names of officials before releasing the files. The diocese released the files, with the names of victims and many other church officials removed, less than an hour later. The trove of documents suggests that church officials routinely sent priests accused of abuse out of state and, in some cases, out of the country to avoid the potential investigations from law enforcement.
Rico says can''t we use the RICO statute (no relation, thank you very much) to get the Catholic Church declared an 'ongoing criminal enterprise'?
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