BURLINGTON (VT)
Boston Globe
October 24, 2024
By Kevin Cullen
The Burlington diocese filed for bankruptcy to shield itself from more lawsuits over the abuse of children
BURLINGTON, Vt. — When Brenda Hannon heard the Roman Catholic diocese here had filed for bankruptcy on Oct. 1, her mind drifted back to St. Joseph’s Orphanage, the nuns, and the peanut butter pudding.
In 1961, Hannon was 8, living at the orphanage, and did not like peanut butter pudding.
“It looked like dirty dishwater,” she said, “and it tasted like dirty dishwater.”
But when Hannon refused to eat it, she alleges, some of the nuns became incensed.
“They tied me to a chair,” Hannon said. “They tried to force my mouth open. One of them held my nose so I couldn’t breathe. They forced me to eat it, but I spit it out.”
One of the nuns began smacking her in the head, she said, a final punch sending her face-first to the floor, still tied to the chair.
The diocese’s orphanage and the nuns who worked there are long gone, but the painful memories haven’t faded.
Others who say they were victims of physical or sexual abuse by nuns and priests at the orphanage or by diocesan priests at various parishes have been pursuing the diocese in court for decades, demanding public apologies and compensation. The diocese has paid out some $40 million to settle lawsuits over the last two decades, a reckoning that forced it tosell a 32-acre campus on the shore of Lake Champlain and other property, including the orphanage, which closed in the 1970s.
But the church has been widely criticized by many alleged victims who have yet to be compensated and who see the bankruptcy filing as a cynical ploy by the diocese to deny them justice.
“We always knew they were morally bankrupt,” Hannon said. “This just shows how bankrupt they really are.”
In a statement, Burlington’s bishop, John McDermott, acknowledged the filing was to protect the diocese from financial ruin.
“This decision was made in consideration of the present financial status of the diocese and the significant number of lawsuits filed by victims of past sexual abuse by members of the clergy presently pending in civil courts,” McDermott said.
The filing for Chapter 11 will limit the diocese’s financial liability from future legal action and essentially puts the church’s finances in the hands of federal Judge Heather Cooper, who will decide how much money should be set aside to compensate remaining victims. The filing effectively terminates pending litigation, bringing it into the purview of the bankruptcy court.
There are currently morethan 30 pending lawsuits, McDermott said. More claims could be filed now that the diocese has declared bankruptcy, signaling that the door for compensation is closing. That was the experience in 40 dioceses in the United States that have filed for bankruptcy since the clergy sexual abuse scandal exploded in 2002 after the Globe’s groundbreaking investigations of abuse and coverups by the Archdiocese of Boston.
Any last-minute claimants would split whatever pot of money Cooper approves with those who have pending lawsuits.
“What is really disturbing is that the diocese has spent the last five years putting my clients through litigation,” said Celeste Laramie, a lawyer who represents nine people with current lawsuits. “They put these people through the wringer, all the time preparing to file for bankruptcy and deny these people their day in court.”
One of Laramie’s clients once lived at the orphanage. His lawsuit against the diocese and Edward Paquette, a defrocked priest whom the church has acknowledged sexually abused boys in Massachusetts, Indiana, and Vermont, will now not be heard.
“I wanted some justice,” said the man, who asked not to be identified. The Globe does not identify victims of sexual abuse without their permission. “The diocese is not interested in justice. Just protecting their money.”
Some Vermont victims, especially survivors of the orphanage, say the recent filing reopens wounds inflicted by the diocese whenthe first group of victims came forward some 30 years ago. Instead of embracing victims and offering compensation, they say, the church stonewalled them and, in many cases, questioned their honesty.
Like several of his predecessors, McDermott apologized in his statement for “the crimes of these clergy.”
“While my heart is heavy with the decision to pursue Chapter 11 reorganization, such weight pales in comparison to the pain suffered by victims of abuse,” he said.
While McDermott said the bankruptcy applies only to the diocese and not its 63 parishes, Laramie and others plan to challenge the restructuring the diocese initiated in 2006 to redesignate its parishes as charitable trusts, independent of the diocese. Laramie and other victims advocates hope Cooper will agree that the claim that parishes are separate entities is just a shell game by the diocese to protect assets.
In announcing that restructuring 18 years ago, Bishop Salvatore Matano rankled abuse survivors by saying, “In such litigious times, it would be a gross act of mismanagement if I did not do everything possible to protect our parishes and the interests of the faithful from unbridled, unjust, and terribly unreasonable assault.”
That, survivors say, captures the diocese’s true feelings about those who were abused.
Even McDermott acknowledged the restructuring might not protect parishes and other diocesan agencies.
“I cannot guarantee that these separate entities will not have to contribute to the final reorganization plan,” he said.
The abuse of children in Catholic institutions first surfaced in Vermont in 1993, when a man alleging abuse at the orphanage filed a lawsuit, leading to a settlement and nondisclosure agreement. Other cases stalled because of statutes of limitations, leading the diocese to offer victims $5,000 each, on the condition they didn’t talk publicly. More than 100 victims took the deal, according to the Burlington Free Press.
Things changed dramatically in 2018, when journalist and author Christine Kenneally wrote a searing expose for BuzzFeed News that documented beatings, sexual assault, and torture at the orphanage.
Vermont law enforcement officials created a task force to examine the allegations and, in a 2020 report, said they found extensive evidence of children being beaten and sexually assaulted. Most of the priests who oversaw the orphanage were credibly accused of sexual abuse of children.
The diocese acknowledged that 40 priests, 10 percent of its clergy since 1950, have been credibly accused of sexual abuse.
A restorative justice inquiry, which brought survivors of St. Joseph’s together to create an alternative to the legal process, has helped many begin healing.
Marc Wennberg, the facilitator of that inquiry, said the diocese refused to take part in the process.
The survivors forged ahead, creating an oral history of their experiences that has become a traveling exhibition, a writer’s group, and a lobbying effort that led Vermont to become the first state to lift the statute of limitations on cases involving the sexual and physical abuse of minors.
Hannon decided not to file a lawsuit but found the restorative justice process incredibly helpful. She supports others who chose to sue.
Unlike other survivors, who over the years visited the old orphanage site and protested outside, Hannon found it too painful to return to the place where she lived a nightmare. She will make a single exception and return next summer, when a memorial park for survivors of the orphanage is set to open.
She said she’ll attend the dedication, but added: “That’s it. I’ll never go back.”
Kevin Cullen is a Globe reporter and columnist who roams New England. He can be reached at kevin.cullen@globe.com.