BishopAccountability.org
	Brown Tome Makes Waves By Robert Nemeth Sunday Telegram April 24, 2011 http://telegram.com/article/20110424/COLUMN22/104249868/-1/opinion_columns The new wave of sexual abuse charges, unleashed by Scott Brown's autobiography, has several disturbing aspects. It includes political posturing, unsubstantiated accusations, secrecy and tragedy. Truth be told, I've been leery about politicians compelled to publish books about themselves while still in office, detailing their journey from the depths of adversity to heights of accomplishment. The assumption that we actually care carries a faint smell of presumptuousness. President Obama made millions of dollars with his early autobiographies. Gov. Deval Patrick is touring the country to plug his story of rising from poverty to prominence. And now Sen. Brown has become the chronicler of his own saga, scarcely halfway into his first term. To their credit, these officials have overcome formidable odds — as have thousands of others who don't publish books about it. Sen. Brown's narrative, "Against All Odds," triggered a chain of events with dire consequences. He revealed that while attending a Christian summer camp on Cape Cod at age 10, he was molested by a camp counselor. He did not disclose the name of the camp or of the alleged offender, although he described the man. But Camp Good News in Sandwich acknowledged that young Scott had been there as a boy and apologized to the senator after the book came out. Mr. Brown uses this incident as an example of strength and resilience that helped him triumph over innumerable hardships. While victim advocates have praised his courage of revealing such an intimate secret, it's hard to picture the strapping tri-athlete, male fashion model and tough military man as the "victim" of an awkward bathroom encounter. Did he not foresee that one sordid episode would overshadow an otherwise interesting narrative? However, once he chose to make the incident public, it is hard to understand why he refused to identify the camp and the offender. For one thing, full disclosure would enhance the credibility of his account. More important, it could bring a criminal to justice and prevent a predator, if he's still around, from harming others. As a lawyer and a father, Mr. Brown should feel compelled to provide full disclosure. It might have prevented a tragedy as well. Charles Devita, a longtime camp employee, shot himself to death after allegations surfaced that he had sexually assaulted a camper in the mid-1980s. He left behind suicide notes denying the allegation, saying he was "sick of being accused." Did guilt and shame prompt him to end his life, or was he hounded to death? We'll never know. Enter Mitchell Garabedian, a Boston lawyer and central figure in the clerical sex abuse controversy of the last decade. He had represented hundreds of people charging they had been sexually abused by priests when they were children, enabling his clients to collect millions of dollars in compensation. Mr. Garabedian now says that, encouraged by Sen. Brown's book, more than a dozen former Camp Good News vacationers came forward with tales of abuse that they say occurred in the 1970s and '80s, involving several camp employees. None of the alleged victims had come forward until now. There was a large headline in The Boston Globe's Metro section on April 5: "I lost my childhood to Bob Oliva." It was a quote from a 49-year-old man who said he had been abused by a prominent basketball coach in the 1970s "on more than 100 occasions." The question is inescapable: Why did he submit to endless abuse? Young victims of clergymen said they had no choice because they were overwhelmed by the spiritual might of the church and didn't dare to challenge a man of the cloth. Does the same excuse now apply to coaches and camp counselors? Bob Oliva's victim, represented by Mr. Garabedian (who else?) has filed a $20 million civil suit against former employers of the coach, including the Catholic Church, for neglecting to prevent the molestation of school athletes. Sexual abuse, particularly of children, is an ugly crime that should be punished. But if the offense happened 30 or 40 years ago, it is hard to prove — and even more difficult to disprove. There are no witnesses or tangible evidence, only hearsay. Very few of the clergy abuse cases ever went to trial. Instead, self-styled victims were paraded in front of television cameras, tearfully blaming every failure in life on childhood abuse. Most of the cases were settled out of court because church officials, stung by the scandal, often chose to pay rather than prolong the agony. The Garabedians of the legal profession (who pocketed a lion's share of the settlements) have built a lucrative cottage industry of sexual abuse litigation. Now the Brown biography appears to have revived the old scenario. Chances are more middle-aged former summer campers, student athletes and youth group members will come out of the woodwork with their heart-wrenching stories of childhood abuse. It seems all they have to do is call Mr. Garabedian or some other molestation specialist to get their name in the paper and their face on television for five-minute fame, sympathy and, if things go well, a nice settlement. Perhaps justice, too, will be served in cases where wrongdoing did happen. But the process would have a lot more credibility if the accusers had come forward decades ago. Robert Z. Nemeth's column appears regularly in the Sunday Telegram.
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