(May anger some) WORST QUOTE OF THE DAY!
HERALD NEWS
These days, the most outspoken advocate for the Roman Catholic Diocese of Paterson doesn't wear a collar. He wears a jacket and tie, and the plaques in his office say esquire, not monsignor.
Kenneth Mullaney, the diocese's attorney, is about to take on one of the biggest civil lawsuits the diocese has ever been hit with. Last Monday, 21 alleged victims of clergy sex abuse and five of their wives sued the diocese for an undisclosed amount, claiming church employees were negligent and failed to prevent the abuse. Nineteen of the plaitiffs claimed to have been abused in a Mendham parish during the 1970s and 1980s by James Hanley, a priest whom the diocese defrocked last year.
"We're not looking to bankrupt the diocese," said Greg Gianforcaro, attorney for the plaintiffs. "We are here seeking accountability for the abuse that these guys maintained."
Mullaney, a partner at the Fairfield civil defense firm Dwyer, Connell & Lisbona, has another explanation.
"The victims are angry people trying to get revenge no matter how they can get it," he said. "They equate revenge with money ... The diocese is a target because the diocese is obviously a deep pocket."
Mullaney, 49, is the kind of man who never hesitates to offer his perspective, no matter how blunt it might sound. Even Gianforcaro, the opposing attorney, called him "an extremely truthful person."
Mullaney, who has neatly combed brown hair and a direct brown gaze behind oversized glasses, has never been afraid to speak his mind, said his wife, Marie, 50.
"He calls the shots when he sees them," she said. "He has said many times he doesn't care what anyone thinks, he's going to say it anyway."
These days, he's taking accusers head-on, talking plainly about their self-interest - something diocesan officials have not done - andrefuting the assertions of Hanley's accusers, all of whom claim to have been abused more than 20 years ago.
Though Hanley was never arrested and charged with a crime, the plaintiffs argue that the diocese and Bishop Frank J. Rodimer "knew and/or reasonably should have known" about the abuse, but failed to act. Rodimer claims not to have known about the abuse until after Mark Serrano, a Hanley accuser, came forward in 1985. The bishop didn't remove Hanley from ministry until10 months after Serrano came forward, something those claiming they've been victimized have criticized him for, even though none of them claims to have been abused during this period. ("No harm, no foul," is how Mullaney describes this situation.)
The plaintiffs assert that they should be compensated for the pain they have suffered. Many of them said their silence put a strain on their marriages and caused them years of internal anguish. Gianforcaro, their attorney, said they buried their memories of the abuse until two years ago, when Serrano came out publicly with the allegation that Hanley molested him.
The diocese maintains that it has tried to reach out to all sexual abuse victims - no matter how old the accusation.
"We have approached them with compassion because these are wounded individuals," said Marianna Thompson, the diocesan spokeswoman. "We are still Church, we are still Catholics. That is the appropriate pastoral response."
But Mullaney remains skeptical of claims of abuse like those of the plaintiffs, who remember their abuse years after the fact.
"How did they all come to recover their memories two years ago?" he asked on Monday, after the lawsuit was filed. "There must have been something in the water that they were all drinking at the same time."
Statements like this have not endeared Mullaney to victims like Serrano, an outspoken member of SNAP, which stands for Survivors Network of those Abused by Priests. Serrano claims to have been abused by Hanley in the 1970s and '80s, but he is not a member of the lawsuit. He settled with the diocese in 1987 for $350,000.
"I think that (Mullaney's) operating from a very limited perspective," said Serrano. "I mean, I think it's quite clear that to suggest that this is financially motivated is a remarkable disregard for the suffering that people endure today. Those words do more harm than (they do) the diocese any good."
Mullaney says that as a defense lawyer, he doesn't have much tolerance for people who call themselves victims. Outside of work, he is hard on himself and on those who love him. He runs five miles a day, even in bone-chillingly cold weather, and pushes his two sons to succeed academically and in sports.
"We tell (our children), 'Don't look at the rest of the world to give you a handout,'" said Marie Mullaney.
He is also a devout Catholic, who started and finished his education at Catholic schools, and has sent his children, Kevin, 18, Matthew, 15, and Maura, 7, to Catholic school as well.
"I feel like - hey, all of us are placed on this Earth for a calling," he said. "Perhaps this is my calling - to defend the Church."
Growing up Catholic gave Mullaney the "foundation" and the "discipline" that he says he has today. It also has pushed him to stick up for the Church, even when other Catholics are railing against it.
"I went on overnight retreats, I was involved with the parish and there were some wonderful priests," he said. "When I hear about (allegations about abusive priests), I think of those great men, and I feel sorry for them."
As for defending the diocese, he plans to avail himself of all strategies, including statute of limitations for civil cases, which is two years after an incident, and New Jersey's charitable immunity law, which stipulates that those who benefit from a charity may not sue the charity.
And he will continue, it would seem, to be as outspoken and unedited as he has always been, especially where allegations of priest sex abuse are concerned.
"IF IT WERE ME IN THIS SITUATION, I'D BE HANDLING IT DIFFERENTLY," HE SAID. I THINK I'D PULL MYSELF UP BY MY BOOTSTRAPS AND MOVE ON WITH MY LIFE."
These days, the most outspoken advocate for the Roman Catholic Diocese of Paterson doesn't wear a collar. He wears a jacket and tie, and the plaques in his office say esquire, not monsignor.
Kenneth Mullaney, the diocese's attorney, is about to take on one of the biggest civil lawsuits the diocese has ever been hit with. Last Monday, 21 alleged victims of clergy sex abuse and five of their wives sued the diocese for an undisclosed amount, claiming church employees were negligent and failed to prevent the abuse. Nineteen of the plaitiffs claimed to have been abused in a Mendham parish during the 1970s and 1980s by James Hanley, a priest whom the diocese defrocked last year.
"We're not looking to bankrupt the diocese," said Greg Gianforcaro, attorney for the plaintiffs. "We are here seeking accountability for the abuse that these guys maintained."
Mullaney, a partner at the Fairfield civil defense firm Dwyer, Connell & Lisbona, has another explanation.
"The victims are angry people trying to get revenge no matter how they can get it," he said. "They equate revenge with money ... The diocese is a target because the diocese is obviously a deep pocket."
Mullaney, 49, is the kind of man who never hesitates to offer his perspective, no matter how blunt it might sound. Even Gianforcaro, the opposing attorney, called him "an extremely truthful person."
Mullaney, who has neatly combed brown hair and a direct brown gaze behind oversized glasses, has never been afraid to speak his mind, said his wife, Marie, 50.
"He calls the shots when he sees them," she said. "He has said many times he doesn't care what anyone thinks, he's going to say it anyway."
These days, he's taking accusers head-on, talking plainly about their self-interest - something diocesan officials have not done - andrefuting the assertions of Hanley's accusers, all of whom claim to have been abused more than 20 years ago.
Though Hanley was never arrested and charged with a crime, the plaintiffs argue that the diocese and Bishop Frank J. Rodimer "knew and/or reasonably should have known" about the abuse, but failed to act. Rodimer claims not to have known about the abuse until after Mark Serrano, a Hanley accuser, came forward in 1985. The bishop didn't remove Hanley from ministry until10 months after Serrano came forward, something those claiming they've been victimized have criticized him for, even though none of them claims to have been abused during this period. ("No harm, no foul," is how Mullaney describes this situation.)
The plaintiffs assert that they should be compensated for the pain they have suffered. Many of them said their silence put a strain on their marriages and caused them years of internal anguish. Gianforcaro, their attorney, said they buried their memories of the abuse until two years ago, when Serrano came out publicly with the allegation that Hanley molested him.
The diocese maintains that it has tried to reach out to all sexual abuse victims - no matter how old the accusation.
"We have approached them with compassion because these are wounded individuals," said Marianna Thompson, the diocesan spokeswoman. "We are still Church, we are still Catholics. That is the appropriate pastoral response."
But Mullaney remains skeptical of claims of abuse like those of the plaintiffs, who remember their abuse years after the fact.
"How did they all come to recover their memories two years ago?" he asked on Monday, after the lawsuit was filed. "There must have been something in the water that they were all drinking at the same time."
Statements like this have not endeared Mullaney to victims like Serrano, an outspoken member of SNAP, which stands for Survivors Network of those Abused by Priests. Serrano claims to have been abused by Hanley in the 1970s and '80s, but he is not a member of the lawsuit. He settled with the diocese in 1987 for $350,000.
"I think that (Mullaney's) operating from a very limited perspective," said Serrano. "I mean, I think it's quite clear that to suggest that this is financially motivated is a remarkable disregard for the suffering that people endure today. Those words do more harm than (they do) the diocese any good."
Mullaney says that as a defense lawyer, he doesn't have much tolerance for people who call themselves victims. Outside of work, he is hard on himself and on those who love him. He runs five miles a day, even in bone-chillingly cold weather, and pushes his two sons to succeed academically and in sports.
"We tell (our children), 'Don't look at the rest of the world to give you a handout,'" said Marie Mullaney.
He is also a devout Catholic, who started and finished his education at Catholic schools, and has sent his children, Kevin, 18, Matthew, 15, and Maura, 7, to Catholic school as well.
"I feel like - hey, all of us are placed on this Earth for a calling," he said. "Perhaps this is my calling - to defend the Church."
Growing up Catholic gave Mullaney the "foundation" and the "discipline" that he says he has today. It also has pushed him to stick up for the Church, even when other Catholics are railing against it.
"I went on overnight retreats, I was involved with the parish and there were some wonderful priests," he said. "When I hear about (allegations about abusive priests), I think of those great men, and I feel sorry for them."
As for defending the diocese, he plans to avail himself of all strategies, including statute of limitations for civil cases, which is two years after an incident, and New Jersey's charitable immunity law, which stipulates that those who benefit from a charity may not sue the charity.
And he will continue, it would seem, to be as outspoken and unedited as he has always been, especially where allegations of priest sex abuse are concerned.
"IF IT WERE ME IN THIS SITUATION, I'D BE HANDLING IT DIFFERENTLY," HE SAID. I THINK I'D PULL MYSELF UP BY MY BOOTSTRAPS AND MOVE ON WITH MY LIFE."
