Sources close to the negotiations want the media and the public to believe that by approving a landmark settlement and promising not to fight the release of church documents — which may not be released until after Los Angeles has settled its cases — Brown has thrown Mahony under the bus. Brown’s proposed letter of apology to each victim also has been cited as a classy touch, whereas Mahony’s lawyers are still threatening scorched-earth tactics, such as a challenge to the state law that allowed thousands of lawsuits to be filed in 2003. Said one observer, "Everyone knows Mahony didn’t want Brown to settle like this. What does this say about the cardinal’s standing? He’s fucked."
But in the hierarchical manner of the Catholic Church, Mahony made Brown. And despite the church’s insistence that its bishops act independently, it’s not likely the settlement was done without approval from the Vatican, or Mahony. Most likely, Mahony supports the Orange settlement and is banking on very few documents seeing the light of day.
Survivors in Los Angeles have seen enough of the cardinal’s handiwork — not to mention their own lawyers at work — to know how the film ends. "I’m not sanguine about the prospects for public vindication or emotional satisfaction," says Udo Strutynski, an attorney in Alhambra who alleges abuse by his priest when he was a teenager.
Strutynski has drifted from the Survivors Network of Those Abused by Priests (SNAP), a nonprofit group that has grown through its affiliation with Boucher and Drivon, who match donations to the cause and have provided free office space to the group. "SNAP is interested in its own financial well-being, and so are attorneys, by nature," Strutynski says. "Victims say they want the glory of a show trial, but not many understand that is not a practical possibility. I’ve spoken with victims who have settled. They say they’ll keep Bishop Brown’s apology letter in their bathroom in case they run out of toilet paper."
Lee Bashforth, a SNAP leader whose lawsuit is one of 544 being mediated in Los Angeles, says, "Seventy-five percent of the victims want the truth to come out, and the rest don’t care as long as the money is right. This works out well for the Diocese of Orange. Now the judge can stall releasing the documents. He’ll say, ‘We can’t release these while Los Angeles is still negotiating.’ Or it will be some other line of bullshit. Then he’ll go on vacation for two weeks and nothing will happen. Insurance companies will get out their checkbooks and help the archdiocese sweep everything under the rug. It’s no coincidence they were about to depose Tom Fuentes in Orange County before settling."
Bashforth says settlement talks have turned into a war of attrition. "Lawyers on both sides have worn victims down," he says. Victims never envisioned settling their cases, Bashforth says, then waiting for a judge’s approval on what to release. "If that’s the way they structure it in Los Angeles, I’ll have even less faith that there will ever be any sense of truth and justice. But that’s how the lawyers envision it. They took on more cases than they could handle and knew all along they had to rely on settlement."
Callahan, attorney for the Orange Diocese, says it would be irresponsible to release documents about priests without protecting their privacy rights. But that ignores two things: The church has already turned its back on pedophile priests, and a judge’s ruling in a criminal proceeding has characterized church documentation of priest sexual abuse as evidence of a crime. Still, Callahan insists, "All the polemics about documents has to do with Los Angeles, not us. They’ve disclosed these half-assed summaries, and we’ve turned over everything from day one." The Los Angeles Archdiocese has resisted turning over actual files but has proposed posting summaries of Los Angeles priests’ files on its Web site. A lawyer for area priests has filed objections with the court.
"If money gets paid out before documents are disclosed, the documents will have no value," Strutynski concludes. "In Boston, they published the documents first. And if you understand that this is really about the money, then you understand that going public with the documents and a threat of a jury trial only raises the ante. My problem with the whole thing is that the attorneys don’t tell us anything. They don’t trust us. And the church still has a cover-up mentality."
Asked about the chances he’ll see his case pressed to the fullest, rather than packaged for a massive closeout sale, Glendale SNAP leader Steven Sanchez replied, "Slim to none, and slim is on a bus on his way out of town."
