Betrayal of Justice

by Mark M Bello

“We wait. This man has skills. You don’t build a multi-million-dollar practice by being an idiot. The fact he’s had some hard times does not mean we should underestimate him,” the Voice stressed.

  “You’re right, of course. We do not wish to appear anxious.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Yeah. We are all religious men, correct?”

  “Yes,” they concurred, in unison.

  “Prayer, then. We pray this turns out all right.”

  “Amen,” they whispered, suddenly pious.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Blake was ecstatic. The church would offer him six figures with little effort on his part, merely to sweep the incident under the rug before the press got wind of it. He’d be reasonably flush again in a matter of weeks. Perhaps he could jump-start a new PI practice. He would send his retention notice and offer to keep a low profile, with settlement terms sealed. I’ll get an extra $50,000 or so in settlement proceeds just for being discreet. Jennifer will be so grateful. This could change everything! His rotten luck was finally changing.

  Blake felt like a lawyer again. He was beyond excited about the prospect of a huge payday but would try to exercise some professional control. He’d go through the motions to appease Jennifer. After all, he did promise her justice for her boys.

  The case could play out any number of ways. Has the priest done this before? If not, the church could not have known of his propensities and would not be liable. If so, they could be liable on multiple agency theories, especially if Zack could prove the church camping trip was within the scope of the priest’s employment. A viable argument could be made. If this priest was convicted of similar conduct before assaulting the Tracey boys and the church knew of the priest’s predisposition to pedophilia, bingo! The sky’s the limit!

  The day after Jennifer’s visit, he drafted his retention letter to Our Lady of the Lakes Parish on his antiquated computer.

  To whom it may concern:

  This office has been retained to represent Jennifer Tracey and her sons, Jake and Kenneth Tracey, for collection of damages arising out of an incident that occurred recently, while the boys were on a camping trip with Father Gerry Bartholomew. The Tracey boys have suffered severe physical and emotional trauma as a result of this incident and their mother, severe emotional trauma.

  Please refer this letter to the attention of your liability insurance carrier and ask that the appropriate representative contact me to arrange a private meeting as soon as possible. It is my firm belief that discretion in this matter is best for all parties.

  Kindly consider this letter a claim of lien for services rendered on behalf of my client, and please give this matter your immediate attention. I look forward to hearing from your representative.

  Thank you for your anticipated cooperation.

  Very truly yours,

  Zachary Blake, PC

  The letter was in the hands of the Voice three days later, and he placed a call to Blake to arrange a meeting. Turf is an important issue in the practice of law. Lawyers prefer to negotiate on their own turf. They are more confident in their own surroundings with supportive people all around them. Lawyers always try to have meetings, negotiations, depositions, arbitrations, and the like in their private offices. It also cuts down on travel, which could be a drag.

  In this case, however, Blake was embarrassed about his one-room dump of an office. He could not have a meeting at this practice level in a place like that. Thus, he waived territorial preference and agreed to a meeting in the prestigious law offices of Brodman, Longworth, and Darling in downtown Detroit’s tallest building, Renaissance Center. Apparently, this silk-stocking law firm represented the church.

  The RenCen was built in the Coleman Young era. It consisted of three blue-glass high rises, which forever changed the Detroit skyline. Zack could see the towers from the southern view he used to enjoy from his Town Center office window. General Motors purchased the complex in the early 2000s and relocated its headquarters to the largest tower. This was good for the city, because, like almost every other downtown venture in Detroit’s recent past, the building had never been successful.

  Following Detroit’s historic bankruptcy, a comeback of sorts was occurring. Buildings were being purchased and renovated by local billionaires. In the same area as its relatively new professional football and baseball stadiums, a new hockey arena has just opened for business. Upscale restaurants and “yuppie” loft-style residences were attracting young people to live and experience “downtown living.”

  The Fox Theatre, an old 1920s movie palace, was beautifully restored to its original splendor and served as a concert and Broadway play venue. Other theaters had followed suit, including a new opera theater. Additionally, three Vegas-style casino developments helped revitalize different sections of the downtown entertainment district. These developments were the genesis of a food and entertainment rebirth in Downtown Motown.

  Blake arrived at 9:00 a.m. for his 10:00 a.m. meeting. He was excited and nervous. Perhaps this meeting would mark the rebirth of his career. He thought about Jennifer Tracey and her two sons. What did she think of me? Could she smell alcohol on my breath? Did she notice how far I have fallen? Was my she sufficiently impressed with my legal knowledge? Must have been, she signed the retainer agreement, didn’t she? Did she notice how excited I got when I heard what the case was about? That wouldn’t be good. A big, fat settlement check will take care of everything.

  Blake parked in the underground parking lot on Jefferson and walked up the street to the RenCen. He entered and quickly found a coffee shop. Suddenly the downtown business district was full of coffee shops. He ordered a flavored decaf and sat down. No caffeine, he was too nervous. Calm down, Blake, you can do this. This one’s no different than a thousand meetings you’ve attended with a thousand different lawyers.

  But, of course, this was different. This was Blake’s survival meeting, his resurrection meeting, and his personal career renaissance meeting. He laughed to himself. The renaissance of Zack Blake at Renaissance Center, what a story! Maybe Mitch Albom will write a column.

  Blake bought a Free Press and read the sports section. Let them make the first offer. It might be higher than what I’d propose. Don’t be anxious. After all, this is only the most crucial moment of your so-called life.

  He went into the bathroom and studied himself in the mirror. He was short, about five feet eight inches, but never found height to be a detriment. He was a lawyer, not a pro basketball player. He’d been a pretty good baseball player in his prime and played on his high school baseball team. His hair was prematurely gray—blame his father—and he was rapidly losing his athletic build.

  Back in his Town Center days, he went to the club and worked out every day. He ate well and took care of himself. But that was a lifetime ago. Today, far from the Town Center, lunch and dinner consisted of the nearest fast-food restaurant. Exercise was a trip from his car to the office and from the office to the bathroom. He was overweight. His suit was a bit snug. He needed to go to Men’s Wearhouse and take them up on that free ‘let-out-your-suit’ offer. Is it still available? I’m still a good-looking son of a bitch, though.

  His prematurely gray hair, combed straight back, was distinguished. It was advantageous when he was younger because clients thought he was older and more experienced. He had crystal blue eyes—his whole family did. Another lifetime ago, Tobey fell in love with those eyes. After I settle the Tracey case, I’ll reclaim some things.

  He splashed water on his face, dried it, left the bathroom, and started for the elevators. He immediately got lost. Most people get lost in the RenCen—what a confusing building! All Blake could see was glass and concrete. He couldn’t locate a directory or find elevators or stairways. He saw no directional signs, and the three towers each had different addresses. How does a person know which building he wants? How do clients ever find the office they need?

  Blake conceived a clever business i
dea. He’d use the Tracey money to open a small RenCen office, stand in the lobby, and direct his competitors’ lost clients to his office rather than theirs. There’s no loyalty in this business anyway. Lawyers were a dime a dozen. Look how easily his asshole ex-partners were able to convince his clients to stay with them.

  He found a security guard who agreed to escort him to the elevators—directions were not enough—and he immediately lifted off on his journey to the thirty-fifth floor. The RenCen had outside-view elevators that provided a beautiful panoramic view of the city of Detroit and twenty miles to the north, ancient history—the Southfield Town Center. A person with acrophobia must turn his back to the view.

  He stepped off the elevator and into Brodman Longworth’s suite of offices. The firm leased the entire thirty-fifth floor. The reception desk was just off the elevator. He identified himself to the receptionist and asked to see Craig Walsh, who was handling the case for the church. Blake waited a few moments before an attractive redhead appeared. She offered coffee and escorted him to a conference room. I’ll follow you anywhere. The poetic movements of her beautifully shaped tush hypnotized the lawyer.

  Unfortunately, she left him alone. Two men appeared. One, the prototypical defense lawyer, six feet two inches tall, blond hair, blue eyes, and the whitest teeth Zack had ever seen, identified himself as Walsh. The young lawyer had a politician’s smile. The other man was not introduced and did not speak. He was shorter than Walsh, with grey hair, a trim beard. He wore a cleric’s collar. The three men sat down at a beautiful lacquer conference room table.

  “I see Rebecca took care of your coffee, Mr. Blake . . .”

  “Yes, she did. Thank you.” Can I get her phone number?

  “I’d like to get right down to business. The church is quite upset about this incident. It is despicable. However, it is the isolated conduct of one rogue priest. The church was unaware of Father Bartholomew’s propensities toward pedophilia. As such, this incident took us as much by surprise as it did Mrs. Tracey. In short, Mr. Blake—”

  “Call me Zack.”

  “As I was saying, in short, there is no institutional liability here. The defendant is a priest who has sworn an oath of poverty. There is no collectability,” Walsh argued.

  “Respondeat superior creates liability and collectability.” Zack retorted. He knew agency law, and he made sure they knew he knew it. Respondeat superior was a Latin term, meaning the superior was responsible for the wrongdoing of an agent under certain circumstances.

  Walsh scoffed at the suggestion. “Respondeat superior only applies if the offending conduct occurs in the scope of employment. Clearly, child molestation is not in the scope of Gerry’s employment as a parish priest.”

  “But the camping trip was,” Zack smirked.

  “True, but child molestation is not a necessary or expected function of camping. Respondeat superior doesn’t apply,” Walsh groused.

  Zack sensed his rival’s growing unrest. He decided to belabor the point.

  “How can I be certain the church had no actual knowledge of Gerry’s propensities? For purposes of this meeting, I must assume it had such knowledge. These were children. How are they supposed to know what religious rituals are without or within the scope of the priest’s duties and responsibilities? There is, at least, apparent authority, and they have the right to rely on it.” Zack doubled down. He’d researched the issue.

  Walsh cringed. “There is absolutely no record of any previous conduct. Bartholomew’s personnel file is squeaky clean. He has no criminal record or record of civil suits anywhere. We’ve checked. We also have a vigorous screening process all priests must go through. He’s completely clean. As to apparent authority—”

  “What if his priors escaped your screening process? Would you be liable then?” Zack interrupted. The old litigator juices were flowing again. He was enjoying himself.

  “I’ll concede the argument, but there is no evidence anything of the sort occurred in this case,” Walsh grumbled.

  “Back to apparent authority, if he used his collar to entice children to sleep with him under the guise, such conduct was pleasing to God, wouldn’t that be within the scope of employment?” Zack persisted.

  “Of course not.” Walsh snapped. “Sleeping with children is not within the scope of a priest’s employment.”

  “But an unsuspecting kid doesn’t know that. He trusts the priest to tell him what God likes or doesn’t like, isn’t that true? This is textbook apparent authority,” Zack reasoned. He relished the old back and forth.

  “Possibly,” Walsh conceded. “But that’s not the standard. The standard for the church is whether its hierarchy reasonably could or would have sanctioned such conduct on a camping trip. The standard for the priest is his understanding of expected and acceptable behavior. Without any doubt, this priest knew the church did not sanction his behavior.”

  “True enough, but with the number of young parishioners being molested by priests throughout the country, wouldn’t the church be wise not to send young male parishioners on camping trips with potential pedophiles?” Zack pressed. He could see himself trying this case.

  “That’s nonsense.” Walsh sputtered. “When a few rogue priests molest some children in other communities, all priests and parishioners are supposed to suffer? These outings are great for camaraderie and enjoyed by all. They help the children to get better acquainted with their clergy and bring all closer to the church and God. Pedophilia is an extremely rare exception.”

  “I don’t think Jake and Kenny Tracey wanted to get that acquainted with Father Gerry Bartholomew,” Zack quipped. “It is my understanding millions, perhaps billions of dollars have been paid out to children as the result of priest-parishioner child molestation. That hardly constitutes a ‘rare exception,’” Zack scowled. He prepared for this meeting. It was that important.

  “Which brings me to the reason for our meeting.” Walsh was pleased to change the subject. “The church feels terrible about what happened to the Tracey boys. We are paying for their therapy sessions and will continue to do so until their doctor releases them. Additionally, we are prepared to offer them a little something for their trouble,” he floated.

  “How do you define a little something?” Zack wondered.

  “The church will offer six hundred thousand dollars, two hundred fifty-thousand for each child, one hundred thousand for Mrs. Tracey, and, of course, continuing treatment for the entire family until their doctor releases them for treatment. How does that strike you?” Walsh offered.

  Zack was breathless. He felt his professional composure going out the window. He expected and was willing to accept an offer of low six figures. Instead, their first offer was high six figures. He hit the mother lode. “The offer seems a tad light,” Zack managed to counter. Was I convincing?

  “What would you recommend?” Walsh scoffed. He wasn’t buying Blake’s bravado.

  “One million dollars,” Zack demanded. “I can probably sell four hundred thousand for each boy and two hundred thousand for the mom—that and continued treatment,” he bluffed, his stomach churning with trepidation.

  Walsh studied Zack and then looked over to the mystery man, who raised his eyebrows. A signal of some sort? Zack wondered.

  “That’s an outrageous figure, Zack. We’re being very generous here,” Walsh blustered.

  “Generous?” Zack gibed. “Your friend Gerry repeatedly does the nasty with two pre-teens, under your very noses, on your camping trip, and you think you’re being generous? You’re wasting my time. I think a jury will love this story.”

  Zack rose and began to leave. Please, God, stop me before I get to the door!

  “Hold on, Zack,” Walsh pleaded, turning to and conferring with the mystery man.

  Thank you, God!

  “Let’s not be hasty,” Walsh cautioned. “I’m sure we can reach some sort of accommodation.”

  “What kind of accommodation?” Zack challenged.

  “I’m not
sure. I need to confer with my client,” Walsh asserted.

  Mystery Man here has the purse strings.

  “Zack, would you mind stepping out into the hall? We need to confer.”

  “Not at all,” Zack assented. Maybe Rebecca is out there. He was feeling very lucky today. Zack stood in the hallway outside the conference room, alone, for about five minutes. He could hear muted conversation inside but could not make out the words. Finally, Walsh came out and invited him to return.

  “We’ve decided to accept your counterproposal, subject to one nonnegotiable condition,” Walsh declared.

  “And the condition?” Zack queried.

  “Complete confidentiality. No one is to know about this claim. No one is to know about the settlement. The mother will agree to the conditions of any plea bargain that is worked out in the criminal case. We want this to go away as if it never happened,” Walsh insisted.

  “Seems to me a condition like that requires additional compensation. Perhaps confidentiality is worth another one hundred grand?” Zack countered. If that’s okay, I’ll talk to my client and recommend the deal.”

  Walsh looked at ‘mystery man’ who nodded his head. “Deal,” Walsh assented.

  “Anything else?” Zack gasped, struggling to contain his composure.

  “No, I think that covers it. Thanks for coming down, Zachary. You’ve done a good job for your clients,” Walsh sighed. He walked to the door and motioned for Zack to leave. “I’ll request a check and have releases emailed to you in the morning. The check should be ready by the end of the week. Will that suffice?”

  “Absolutely. Thank you,” Zack effused. “This is a good resolution for all concerned. It was nice meeting you.” I’ve got to get out of here before I explode!

  “Likewise,” the old man grumbled.

  He’s a cold, sinister character. The voice was familiar, where had Zack heard it before? He was the one who called to set up the settlement meeting. The guy sent an eerie chill up Zack’s spine. He was glad he dealt with Walsh.