Bishop O'Brien froze, uttered not a word and just stared at me. I looked back into the eyes of complacency and collaboration.
Last year, writing for this newspaper, Robert Nelson broke the story of yet another molestation of a child by a local priest, a revelation that was part of the national scandal crucifying the faithful, destroying families and threatening the church's financial underpinning.
Christine Keith
Bishop Thomas J. O'Brien in court.
Sherrie Buzby and Suzanne Star
Top: From left, prosecutors Anthony Novitsky, Mitch Rand and Dave Dehority. Above: Defense attorneys Tom Henze (left) and Patrick McGroder, holding the dead man's shoes.
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Nelson's article was the first in what became a media wave of publicity regarding new cases of abuse within the Phoenix church.
Once again, Bishop O'Brien refused to accept responsibility. He stonewalled. He hid.
In the end, O'Brien admitted that at least 50 priests and church workers in greater Phoenix had been accused of preying upon children.
A letter from Boston's notorious Cardinal Law explained that he'd shipped priests who were sexual molesters to Phoenix because O'Brien's was one of those "dioceses with policies that were less restrictive than ours."
Last year, a grand jury investigated whether O'Brien violated state law by refusing to report cases of child abuse to the authorities as required and whether he transferred molesters to unsuspecting parishes without warning local congregations of past behavior. On the eve of an indictment, County Attorney Rick Romley opted for the high ground. Rather than file charges, he forced the bishop to admit guilt in return for immunity from prosecution.
In the presence of an attorney on June 3, Bishop Thomas J. O'Brien signed the following short statement: "I acknowledge that I allowed Roman Catholic priests under my supervision to work with minors after becoming aware of allegations of sexual misconduct. I further acknowledge that priests who had prior allegations of sexual misconduct made against them were transferred to ministries without full disclosure to their superiors or to the community in which they were assigned."
In a bizarre development, Bishop O'Brien reversed himself and once again declared himself not guilty of anything. He reversed himself on the very day that the county attorney made the agreement public.
At a news conference, O'Brien repudiated the signed statement, declaring, "To suggest a cover-up is just plain false. I did not oversee decades of wrongdoing."
Prosecutor Romley exploded.
"Is he revising history?" asked Romley. "Did he fail to understand the confession he was signing? Did he fail to understand that he needed immunity?"
Of course he failed to understand. He had his immunity and once again he refused to accept responsibility for his conduct.
Within two weeks, on June 14, O'Brien would strike down Jim Reed.
Bishop O'Brien testified that he didn't see what he hit that fateful night in June. He heard the noise as his windshield exploded, looked over to the passenger side and saw nothing.
He said under oath that he thought maybe he hit a dog. He said under oath that he thought maybe someone had thrown a rock at his car. He did not know.
How can that be true?
Bishop Thomas J. O'Brien wants us to believe that when he heard his windshield break apart, it was the first sign of trouble.
That cannot possibly be true.
The first impact, both heard and felt, was when the front of his Buick smashed into all 240 pounds of Jim Reed. The impact was so tectonic that it flipped this giant of a man into the air and then onto the bishop's windshield.
When Reed landed upon the car's front window, it was the second explosive event.
Whatever else was passing through the bishop's mind, there is no way that smashing into the pedestrian didn't snap him out of his reverie and hone his focus.
When Jim Reed obliterated the bishop's windshield, Thomas J. O'Brien saw exactly what happened.
E-mail michael.lacey@newtimes.com, or call 602-229-8404.
