In God's House (22 page)

I thought Quinlan was crazy. “The boy’s fine? Did all of you somehow miss what happened when the boy saw Father Dubois?”

Blassingame said, “None of that is on the record. The last thing on the record is the kid saying his report card is going to be pretty good and me saying I had no more questions. There’s no video here, only the transcription of what was spoken.”

I stared at him in disbelief. Blassingame removed his glasses to wipe them with a handkerchief. “I told you these kids cannot step up under pressure. If I get this kid in a courtroom, I’ll gut him. Jesus Christ, his parents never once asked what was going on with Dubois, and he knew what he was doing was wrong. This is a
red-letter
day, gentlemen.”

I looked around the room. Neither the monsignors, the bishop nor the other lawyers were making eye contact with me. Tom Quinlan’s young law associate, James Ryburn, was the only one looking at me, eyes wide, with an expression I could not interpret.

As Chaisson re-entered the room, he spoke to Blassingame as if he was the only person there. “Doctor Kennison has taken Donny and his parents to his office. He felt it best to remove him from this building while Father Dubois is here. The Rachou parents can return later to be deposed.”

Blassingame responded, “I will make a statement in the record that I am releasing both Mr. and Mrs. Rachou, and reserving our right to take their testimony at a later date.”

“I will have them notified at Doctor Kennison’s that they are released for today. Now, get Dubois. He’s first,” Chaisson said.

When I opened the door to the file room, I motioned for the deputies to leave. Dubois was obviously heavily drugged. As I
approached him, he almost fell out of the chair. He was coming toward me, having forgotten to stand first.

“You okay?”

He shook his head.

“What’s the matter?”

“Doctor Sonnier at the jail asked if I was nervous. He gave me two pills.”

“Shit. What kind of pills?”

Dubois shrugged.

“Father, don’t ever take drugs from Doc Sonnier again. He’s not fit to be a vet. Doc only has the jail job because his daughter married the sheriff’s son. They use pills up there to knock out violent guys twice your size.”

“Can we change this to another day, Renon? I feel like I’m gonna be sick. My head, my stomach. My mind is spinning around.”

“No. No way. We gotta get you through this thing and get you back up to the Stalder Institute in New Jersey.”

Dubois took some labored breaths and I asked, “Do you remember our plan?”

He nodded.

“Sure?”

He nodded again.

“Let’s go.”

I held Francis Dubois’s arm and guided him to the witness chair. I sat to his left. The court reporter administered the oath. Then Kane Chaisson began. “Father Dubois, my name is Kane Chaisson. I represent Donny Rachou and his parents. Let me begin by asking you, what is your full name?”

“Father Francis Dominick Dubois. Blaize is my confirmation name.”

“Where do you live?”

“In jail… I don’t know how to answer.”

“Well let me ask you where you were living before you were incarcerated in the Thiberville parish correctional facility. Where was that?”

I put my hand in front of Dubois the way one throws his hand in front of a child in the passenger seat when braking a car suddenly. “I instruct my client to refuse to answer that question in the interest of his own security and the security of other patients at the facility where he was residing before being incarcerated. For the record, I am willing to make this statement under oath that would be sealed if it takes that to satisfy Mr. Chaisson. I have visited the treatment facility. It is located in a distant state and is at least as secure as the Thiberville correctional facility.”

Chaisson ignored me. “Father, it is true, is it not, that your most recent assignment in the Diocese of Thiberville was at a parish known as Our Lady of the Seas in Amalie, Louisiana?”

I leaned over to Dubois and whispered in his ear, “Now. Every question.”

Dubois nodded and said flatly, “Under the advice of counsel I invoke my Fifth Amendment right against self-incrimination and refuse to answer the question.”

At the other end of the table, Robert Blassingame leaned away from the table, tossing his pen onto his blank legal pad, obviously satisfied that his instructions were being followed to a T. Kane Chaisson was going to get no evidence at all from Father Dubois.

Chaisson said, “Father, it is true, is it not, that you are acquainted with a young man named Donald Wesley Rachou – or Donny?”

“Under the advice of counsel I invoke my—”

“That’s fine, Father. You don’t have to go on. I understand. This is not about you, Father. It’s about your lawyer, who has given you unsound legal advice. For the record, Madame Reporter, I am going to recess this deposition and attempt to get the judge on the phone for a ruling on the untenable, obstructionist position Mr. Chattelrault has assumed in these proceedings. The law is clear and has been clear for ages. The Fifth Amendment privilege against
self-incrimination
Father Dubois seeks to avail himself of is an individual right that is only available to a defendant in a criminal proceeding. The principle has no bearing on a civil proceeding such as this.” Kane Chaisson stood. “Now, this deposition will stand in recess while I attempt to reach a judge for a ruling.”

Robert Blassingame stood at the moment Chaisson stood. “This deposition will not stand in recess, Mr. Chaisson. You have no authority to act unilaterally to recess this matter. That would require the consent of all counsel. I speak for the others gathered here when I tell you that we stand united in our opposition to your attempt to recess the deposition. Either you continue until you have no further questions or we will assume you have no further questions and this deposition will be ended.”

Chaisson looked like he was going to whip Blassingame’s bony ass. “Frankly, Mr. Blassingame, I don’t give a good damn what you
or your co-counsel think. The only person I care about is little Donny Rachou. I am going to my office and I invite Mr. Chattelrault to accompany me.”

I leaned over to Father Dubois and told him to stay put. Then I walked behind Chaisson to his private office, a room that could have been an upscale taxidermist’s shop, an immense chamber that looked like the staging area for Noah’s Ark.

Chaisson pulled off his suit coat and tossed it on a chair, loosened his tie, and said, “Okay, Renon. We know each other. You are way too good a lawyer to be playing games out there. What the fuck are you doing? A judge will never let Dubois get away with not answering my questions.”

“What’s a judge gonna do to him? Put him in jail? He’s in jail already and probably headed to prison for life. You have no leverage here, Kane. Calm down, listen. I know what you want. And there is something I want.”

“What is it I want, Renon?”

“You want Dubois to break down, to get his confession. You want to be the man who broke him down.”

Chaisson nodded. “Fucking right, son. I want the truth. I know the truth, but I gotta get the truth from him.”

“You can have it all, but you have to give me what I want.”

“And what the fuck does Renon Chattelrault want?”

“We want to be left the fuck alone. I have a deal with the DA and Judge Labat. Neither of them wants Dubois around while waiting for his trials. After this deposition is finished, I can move Dubois back to the treatment facility and keep him there until the trials.”

“That has nothing to do with me.”

“Well, it does. First, it’s in the interest of your client. You saw what happened to the kid when he saw Dubois. He’d be better off knowing the priest was a long way away. Also, you can make my good friend, our DA, do circus tricks. The media will broadcast anything you say because you are the only one talking. When I move Dubois back to treatment, one comment from you about how
Dubois is being given special treatment, and there will be an uproar caused by the media and from the people down around Amalie and Bayou Saint John. The DA and Judge Labat will shit themselves and haul Dubois’s ass back to the Thiberville jail overnight.”

“So, what the fuck are you asking me to do?”

“Simple. We give you what you want this morning. In fact, if you ask the right questions and go beyond Amalie, you’re gonna get a lot more than you are expecting to get.”

“Okay.”

“The one proviso is that we will run aground again if you try to ask Dubois one question about the diocese, those monsignors in there or the bishop. The nuthouse Dubois is in costs twelve grand a month. And I’m not cheap, and they are paying the freight for all medical and legal expenses. You will get what you need about the diocese from the monsignors and the bishop. And Dubois is not the right witness anyway. A man like Dubois has no credibility and you don’t want to find yourself vouching for his honesty about the diocese and what they knew, when they knew it, what they did and what they failed to do.”

“I have no problem with that. He would not be privy to the decisions the diocese made about him anyway, whatever discussions were had. But, Renon, you’re still not telling me what you want from me.”

“You agree you will never ever mention Dubois’s name again after today. Not anywhere under any circumstance, except in questioning witnesses about him in legal proceedings. Leave us alone. Dubois’s net worth is less than a nickel. You can battle with us, but the war you have to win is against the diocese. That’s where the money is. If you have to bang someone in the press, beat up on the bishop. Dubois and I get a pass from you, a permanent pass. He goes back to the treatment facility and you make no statement at all about him going back to the facility, getting special treatment, or anything else about him.”

“You think it matters what I say?”

“Hell, yes. You spook my good friend, Sean Robinette, like
nobody else. If you start raising hell about Dubois getting special privileges, I know our DA, Robinette, will yank his ass back in jail. No more treatment.”

Chaisson stuck his hand out. We shook. I stood gazing at the walls of his office and though I was appalled by the gallery of dead animals hanging there, I acted like I was impressed.

Chaisson made a sweeping gesture toward some of his trophies. “Shot a big animal on every fucking continent, caught a big fish off every coast. Killed and caught everything there is to kill or catch except a whale. I’m looking for a charter right now that will take me on a whale hunt.”

Chaisson re-entered the conference room, tie loosened and askew, looking more like the street fighter he was in his heart than the lawyer he was in his head.

The deposition resumed as I whispered to Dubois, “Okay. It’s okay now.”

“Now, Father Dubois, let’s get down to it. Did you have sex with young boys in every assignment you ever had in the Diocese of Thiberville?”

Chaisson was testing me early, out of the chute, with his first question, going for the whole game.

“Yes, sir. That is the truth. I had sex with boys when I was in the seminary too.”

Blassingame bolted from his chair and charged toward me, shouting, “Now, this deposition will stand in recess. Defense counsel will confer among themselves.”

William Chaisson grinned from ear to ear and said, “Well, Mr. Blassingame, I ought to cite the age-old case of ‘Goose versus Gander’ – what’s good for the goose, is good for the gander. A few minutes ago you went on record that no one has a unilateral right to recess this deposition and now you want to recess it yourself. Having better manners than you, I grant your request.”

Chaisson motioned to the court reporter to follow him to his office, leaving the rest of us in the conference room.

“Let’s go outside, gentlemen,” Blassingame said.

“You bet,” I said.

In single file we headed for the door with me in the lead. I swung it open to the light, stepping into the parking lot. The first person I saw was Zeb Jackson, leaning against a wall, reporter’s pad in his hand. Television cameras and a couple of still photographers rushed toward us. Behind me I heard Robert Blassingame mutter, “Jeeezus Christ. Get back inside.”

Jon Bendel stumbled and fell on his face on the carpeted floor as we pushed our way back through the door. I waved to Zeb and turned around to walk in.

All of the lawyers were crammed into the small file room that had held Dubois earlier. More than half of them were talking at the same time. When I stepped in, the talking stopped.

Blassingame said, “I’ve had enough of your shit. Last week in New Orleans you agreed your client would take the Fifth. You started off right today, keeping your word. You spend five minutes with Chaisson and you cave in. What? Are you scared of Chaisson?”

“No, Bobby. I am not scared of Chaisson. Are you?”

Blassingame leaned forward, grimacing. “I’m not scared of anything.”

“Every one of you would be scared to death of the truth, if you knew what the hell the truth was.”

Blassingame said, “We are in this together. We have a strategy.”

“We, Bobby? We? What’s this ‘we’ business? You are the only one who ever talks for all these other people and all you ever tell me is that you want to throw me out of the room.”

“We cannot allow what is about to happen in there happen. How can it possibly be in the interest of your client to testify to these crimes?”

“Our plea in the criminal case is not guilty by reason of insanity. We are not going to contest the facts alleged in the criminal charges. We will only argue and try to prove he was criminally insane at the time he committed the crimes. The more acts of sexual molestation that are in the court records, the crazier Dubois looks.”

“Shit,” Blassingame said. Turning to Jonathan Bendel, he asked, “Can you talk some sense into him, Jon?”

With that, Blassingame led all the others out of the room, leaving me alone with Bendel.

Smoothly and softly, Bendel said, “Renon, I have looked at the contract you signed with Monsignor Moroux. According to the diocesan corporate charter, I believe we can fire you.”

“Maybe you can fire me, but you’re not gonna fuck me,” I said, turning my back to him and walking away.

In his wildest dreams, Kane Chaisson could never have imagined the kind of deposition he would get from Father Francis Dominick Dubois. They talked about Donny Rachou in detail and Dubois admitted every allegation in the Rachou legal petition and even increased some of the numbers contained in the psychological dossier. Dubois also admitted to having had sex with a large number of victims, a number so large that he had lost count. He agreed it was probably over two hundred, maybe a lot more.

When the deposition ended, as if playing poker with Blassingame and company, Chaisson made the same move Blassingame had made earlier in passing up the chance to depose the Rachou parents, reserving his right to do so later. In the record, Chaisson made an identical reservation regarding the right to later take the sworn testimony of the monsignors and the bishop.

As Chaisson advised Dubois he was free to leave, Dubois turned to me and said, “Please ride back with me.” I nodded and went outside to tell the cops to bring the car to the door. As I was walking back in, all the lawyers and clerics filed by me in silence, avoiding me, except for young James Ryburn from Quinlan’s office, who nodded, almost smiled, and said, “See ya.”

Dubois and I were hustled to the police cruiser by two deputies.

From the jail, I walked to my office. As I strolled in, Mo followed me to my desk.

“Gimme the scoop. How were the depositions?”

“Piece of cake, Mo, piece of cake.”