In God's House (21 page)

“You go after that Rachou kid and I’m gonna go after you.”

“You be there next week. I’m going after all three – mother, father and child.”

Well over a half-million dollars’ worth of luxury cars bearing New Orleans license plates were parked against the Chaisson building when I arrived. There was a television truck in the corner of the lot. I knew the TV cameraman. Our paths had crossed often. He was setting up a tripod on the roof of the truck. “Billy,” I shouted. “Don’t you guys travel in a pack? Where’s the rest of the jackals?”

“At the courthouse for the load-in shot. Got four possible shots today. Dubois getting in the car at the jail, getting out here, getting in here, and getting out at the jail. I heard network wants some footage fed to them.”

Inside, a young lady guided me to a conference room with an adjacent room big enough to square dance in. The Church lawyers were sitting or standing in the conference area as the court reporter unwound cable and set microphones on the teak table.

I saw the Rachou family huddled in a corner of the big room. I walked straight to them and put my hand out. Without hesitation, Tommy Wesley Rachou took my hand and nodded. His wife, Celeste, nervously smiled, while the boy, Donny, stared at his shoes.

To the parents I said, “My name is Renon Chattelrault. I am the lawyer for Father Dubois.”

Celeste Rachou stiffened visibly.

“We’re all gonna get through this somehow, Mrs. Rachou. I’ve got children about the same age as Donny.”

Mrs. Rachou looked real hard at me. “But you don’t know.”

“No, ma’am. I don’t know. I will never know.”

Trying to remember the Rachou dossier, I said, “Donny, you look like a baseball player to me.”

The boy reached around to his back pocket and pulled out a ball cap. “I got my cap with me. That’s my team. The Redbirds.” The cap was a knock-off of the Saint Louis Cardinals logo.

I took the cap from Donny and inspected it. “Well, I’m happy it’s not a Yankee cap.”

The boy grinned.

“Donny, I know Mr. Chaisson told you what was going to happen today. Some men are going to ask you some questions. I wanted to say hello because I don’t have any questions for you. I won’t be asking you anything. And I will believe everything you say because I know you’re gonna tell the truth.”

“That’s good,” said Tommy Wesley Rachou. His voice was deep and did not seem to go with his slight frame.

Turning back to the boy, I asked, “Are you an infielder?”

“Yes, sir. Shortstop and second base. We were in the playoffs this summer. I hit a home run under the legs of an outfielder. It rolled in a water ditch and he was scared to put his hand in the water.”

“A home run is a home run, Donny.”

Celeste Rachou looked at her watch. “Do these things start on time?”

“The notice said ten o’clock, but it’s not gonna be ten until Mr. Chaisson decides it’s ten.”

A door to the parking lot opened and a handsome young man walked in wearing pressed jeans, casual loafers, and a polo shirt under a raw silk sport coat. All three Rachous turned to him, and Donny smiled broadly.

“Aaron Kennison,” he said as he put his hand out.

“Renon Chattelrault.”

Looking down at Donny, Doctor Kennison said, “Good, you remembered your lucky cap. I wore my lucky socks.”

Donny smiled again.

The door banged open from the parking lot and the black suits entered with the subtlety of a coal train, the bishop leading Monsignors Moroux, Belair and Gaudet. The bishop glanced at the Rachou family with an expression of disgust. Tommy Wesley Rachou gave the bishop a steady stare as he passed by. The anger in Celeste Rachou’s eyes was violent. Donny kind of trembled and Doctor Kennison touched Donny’s hair, calming him.

Kane Chaisson entered the conference room like an enraged bull entering a bullfighting arena. Intimidation was his game and even in his seventies he remained an imposing bear of a man. Though blessed with a fine head of hair, he had decided to start shaving his skull clean in his thirties because he believed it made him look uglier, scarier. He had multiple chins, huge ears, and hanging jowls. Everything about his huge head was as fleshy as his bear-sized palms and long fat fingers. Local lawyers had told me he wore a corset to contain his girth and that all his teeth were false – when prepared for bed he was a pitiful, overweight, toothless tiger, apparently. But that’s not how he was when he was performing publicly.

The two gladiators, Chaisson and Blassingame, faced off from opposite ends of a highly polished teakwood table. They were flanked on both sides by diocesan and insurance lawyers, and clerics. Chaisson was calm and controlled while Blassingame was fidgeting with papers in a file. Even before it had begun, it appeared it was advantage Chaisson.

In a booming voice, he announced, “Donny Rachou has school today in Amalie, so I request we allow his deposition to proceed first.”

I could almost feel the surprise among Bendel and the New Orleans crew. They were expecting Kane Chaisson to file some kind of psychological report with the court in an attempt to postpone the boy’s deposition for medical reasons related to his emotional and mental state. Here he was offering the boy’s sworn testimony first.

Chaisson escorted Donny to a chair at the end of the table, next to the court reporter. Then he seated Donny’s parents along the wall and pulled up a chair next to Donny for Doctor Kennison. “Gentlemen, these are Donny’s parents, Celeste and Tommy Wesley. And this gentleman is Doctor Aaron Kennison, Donny’s treating psychologist. Considering the age of the deponent, I assume there is no objection to their presence.”

Robert Blassingame motioned to the court reporter to turn the recording device on. “I am Robert Blassingame, lead counsel for the parties listed in our responsive pleadings. Of course, we have no objection to the presence of the young man’s parents. For the record, we object strenuously to the presence of Doctor Kennison. No one advised us the doctor would be present and we are caught by surprise. The doctor is not a party to this suit, has no right to be here. Unless we are to be provided the opportunity to question Doctor Kennison to learn why his presence is required in his opinion, and question Doctor Kennison at the same time about his treatment of Donny Rachou, then I feel it is inappropriate for him to be here, and I feel that these depositions should be canceled and all costs associated with these depositions, including the travel of counsel from New Orleans this morning, should be assessed against Mr. Chaisson’s interest.”

The child was flanked by legal counsel on one side and his doctor on the other. The baseball cap was in his hands. He fidgeted in the chair. Doctor Kennison reached over and whispered to him. He nodded and pulled the cap on backwards, blond bangs covering his forehead. Kennison whispered a second time and Donny looked under the table while Aaron Kennison pulled up his jeans an inch, showing Donny his lucky socks. These were their signals, and the child relaxed, took a drink of water, and seemed less nervous than everyone else around the crowded table.

Chaisson’s voice boomed in response to Blassingame’s speech. “Mr. Blassingame, I commend your formidable intellect, for it takes a brilliant mind to embrace two completely opposing
ideas at the same time. On the one hand, you argue that you want Doctor Kennison removed from this room because you were unaware that he would be here this morning and find yourself unprepared for his very presence. On the other hand, you argue that you are fully prepared to take the sworn testimony of Doctor Kennison. This kind of logic confuses a simple mind like mine. What does not confuse me is this: these depositions are going to go forward today, with or without you. If you remove yourself and the witnesses I have subpoenaed, I am confident the court will issue sanctions, fines and costs against you. And I, Mr. Blassingame, will release to the press the statement you just made in the record, and will advise the public through the media that it is the diocese and bishop’s position that this nine-year-old boy should not have his treating psychologist available to him while he is interrogated by grown men who ought to have the decency not to question him in the first place.”

Blassingame pushed his glasses to his forehead. “Fine, counsel. This is your home field and we will play by your rules. However, my objection to the presence of Doctor Kennison shall be considered to be a continuing objection throughout the course of this day, without the necessity of my raising it again.”

The court reporter administered the oath to the young boy and he swore to tell the truth, “So help me God.” The sworn testimony of Donny Rachou was underway.

“Donny, my name is Robert Blassingame. It is necessary for me to talk to you this morning. Is that okay with you?”

“Yes, sir.” Donny glanced at Doctor Kennison, who smiled warmly.

“Is that your name? Donny? Or is it Donald?”

“Donald. Donald Wesley Rachou.”

“How old are you?”

“Almost ten.”

“Almost ten. That’s pretty old, isn’t it?”

“I dunno. My sister’s fourteen.”

“But you are not old enough to be a lawyer, are you, Donny?”

Donny Rachou giggled. “No, sir. And I don’t want to be no lawyer.”

“Well, what I mean, Donny, is this. There are a lot of legal papers in this case and, of course, I know you did not write the legal papers. It is true that you have not read any of the legal papers either, have you?”

“No.”

“And if you are almost ten, you are not old enough to be a doctor yet either?”

Again, Donny giggled. “No, sir. And I don’t wanna be no doctor.”

“There are some medical papers, some reports, in this case and, of course, I know you did not write the medical reports. It is true that you have not read any of the medical reports either?”

“No.”

“Well, good. We are not going to talk about legal papers or medical reports. We are going to talk about you. Tell me about yourself.”

Donny looked at Doctor Kennison, who smiled.

“There’s not too much to say.” Donny shrugged. “I’m only nine. I love my momma, my daddy, my sister, my dog and my horse. I don’t like my sister’s dog because it chases my horse.”

“Donny, would you say your dog behaves better than your sister’s dog?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your dog does things right and your sister’s dog does things wrong?”

“Unhuh.”

“Would you say that you know the difference between right and wrong?”

“Unhuh.”

“Was that a ‘yes’, Donny?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The things that happened with you and Father Dubois,
Donny. We’re not going to talk about those things exactly. But I want you to think about those things. Do you think those things were right or wrong?”

“Wrong.”

“And when you were doing those things, you knew those things were wrong, didn’t you?”

“I suppose.”

“You love your mommy and daddy.”

“I do.”

“And you have always loved your mommy and daddy, haven’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How often did your mommy and daddy let you sleep over at Father’s house?”

“About every week. I went there after school on Wednesdays, before altar-boy practice the next day. My group, we went on Wednesday. After school.”

“And how old were you when you started to sleep at Father’s house?”

“I dunno. I was little when it started.”

“Did you ever tell your parents what was going on at Father’s house?”

“No, sir. Not till Daddy talked to me one night after he heard something from my friend’s daddy.”

“Before the night your daddy talked to you – before – did your parents ever ask you what you did at Father’s house?”

“No, sir.”

“Did you like Father Nicky?”

“Sometimes a little bit.”

“When did you like him?”

“When he was nice and gave me things and good snacks.”

“Was he nice to you a lot of the time?”

“I suppose.”

“Donny, someone told me you are a star baseball player. Is that true?”

The boy giggled. “I don’t know. I play on a good team. The Redbirds. We did good this year.”

“Was this your best baseball season?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And when you leave here today, you are going to school?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Who is your teacher?”

“I have three teachers and a coach.”

“How was your report card?”

“We get the first one next week.”

“Do you think it will be a good report card?”

“Not math.”

Suddenly the outside door slammed open and two deputies rushed in, almost carrying Father Dubois between them. Dubois’s face looked like a rubber mask. He was handcuffed behind his back, leaning forward, his hair hanging in his face.

“NO! NO! NO!” Donny screamed.

Celeste Rachou rushed to her son, grabbing him. Scooping him in her arms, her husband at her side, they cast expressions of terror in Kane Chaisson’s direction. Chaisson was out of his seat, opening a door to his office suite, motioning them to follow. As they walked behind Chaisson, both parents were holding their son in their arms. I could not tell if Donny was shaking or in seizure.

To the court reporter, Robert Blassingame stupidly said, “There will be no more questions of the witness.”

I got up and walked to the deputies and Dubois, motioning for them to follow me to a file room. I signaled them to remove the cuffs and allow Dubois to sit in a chair. “I’ll be back,” I told Dubois.

Blassingame asked the court reporter to step out of the conference room so he could speak in private to me, the Church lawyers and the clerics.

Blassingame said, “The kid did not lay a glove on us. If Dubois says nothing, we’re going to get out of this day clean. We’re gonna
dismiss the parents today and reserve our right to take their testimony at a later date. Does anyone disagree?”

Quinlan said, “Good job, Robert. You’re right. The kid is doing well now with baseball, school, everything. He seems fine. He knew what he did was wrong. This could not have gone better. The kid is fine, no real long-term damage.”