Siding Against the Church

Irvine lawyer Katherine K. Freberg is a newcomer to the small club of attorneys who represent victims of sexual abuse by priests. But the two cases she helped settle--and the resulting publicity--have pushed her near the head of the club.

One suit resulted in a $5.2-million payout in August and a series of changes to the sexual-abuse policies of the Los Angeles and Orange dioceses. The other ended last month in a $1.2-million settlement for a woman who alleged her priest impregnated her and paid for the abortion.

This month, Freberg filed a suit in Orange County Superior Court alleging the Archdiocese of Milwaukee and Diocese of Orange conspired to transfer a priest--a convicted child molester--across the country to Southern California, where he continued to sexually abuse minors. Correspondence between the two dioceses show they knew the priest had “a moral problem” with boys.

Freberg’s critics--some opposing attorneys and some within the Roman Catholic church--are reluctant to criticize her publicly, saying they have to do business with her and she can be vindictive. Privately, they complain that she has a self-serving agenda that revolves around money and attention.

Freberg shrugs off the criticism--with one exception.

This month, she arranged for an alleged victim to tell the news media that police had him use a recording device to obtain a confession from a priest he said molested him.

Jeff Griswold said he made his story public because he was frustrated by state statute-of-limitation laws and the possibility that his complaint against Father David Granadino, an Azusa priest, would not be prosecuted.

Law enforcement officials, who encouraged the secret taping to produce contemporary evidence that would overcome statute-of-limitations issues, were angry at Freberg and Griswold, saying Griswold’s revelation could compromise use of the technique in other investigations. Griswold later pleaded with a reporter to stop the story from being published.

Freberg said, “I didn’t look at the big picture.”

Raised in Corpus Christi, Texas, Freberg, 41, stands 6-feet-1--two inches taller in her usual heels--and revels in her height. It got her a basketball scholarship at Texas Tech, where she averaged 14 points per game as a senior.

Her law school dean at Pepperdine University, Ronald F. Phillips, still marvels at the athletic skills Freberg showed during a semester abroad in London, when the Waves took on Notre Dame law school in an annual co-ed touch football game in Hyde Park.

Freberg’s height also translates into courtroom confidence. “I don’t like being the center of attention,” she said, “but I like to be able to see everyone in a room.”

Practicing Law Is ‘About Working Long Hours’

Her father, a major in the Army, died when she was 19. Freberg watched her mother raise seven children and put six of them through college.

The law, she said, “has little to do with brains. It’s about working long hours.”

Freberg said she works seven days a week, juggling her corporate clients with the avalanche of new business generated by the church’s sex scandal. In recent months, she said, she’s talked with more than 125 people who say they were molested by priests and has signed up 15 clients.

“I spend my nights calling them back and crying with them on the phone,” she said. She tears up often in interviews and at news conferences, then explains she is moved by the pain of those betrayed by figures they trusted as children.

The circumstances of the cases she undertakes are usually daunting: Most have statute-of-limitations problems, nearly all the clients have suffered emotional damage, the abuse was largely in private, and the church has some of the best attorneys in the country.

A casual referral from another lawyer five years ago pushed her into the field--and resulted in the $5.2-million settlement that is the largest for a single victim of abuse by a priest. The client, Ryan DiMaria, told Freberg and her then-partner, John Manly, that he had been molested by a popular Orange County monsignor.

Manly, a Catholic, already had an understanding of the church, but had never sued the institution. Freberg, raised an Episcopalian, had a steeper learning curve. She began by reading books, articles and official church literature and directories.

Freberg and Manly called on attorneys and others with experience in church litigation, who gave free advice--something Freberg said she now gives, along with copies of legal documents, to attorneys who call her office.

She recalled the moment that defined the harshness of the forthcoming legal battle. It came during the deposition of DiMaria, who accused Msgr. Michael Harris, his former high school principal, of molesting him in the early 1990s. Harris’ attorney asked DiMaria about the first alleged molestation:

“First of all, when it happened, you did not enjoy it, did you?”

Wiping away tears, Freberg said: “It told me at that point they would be willing to go to extremes.”

Harris, who left the priesthood, has denied the accusations and was never criminally charged.

Freberg takes pains to say the 50 or so depositions she and her partner took of Catholic priests revealed to her caring clerics who take their faith seriously.

“These are truly good men who are dismayed at what their brother priests have done and how their bosses have covered it up,” she said. “My problem is with the hierarchy.”

She also didn’t anticipate the emotional toll the cases would take on her. She said she’s developed “a nasty habit of waking up at 2 a.m. and calling my message machine at work to dictate some details that need to be followed up.”

Fans and critics of Freberg agree that she’s a bright, resourceful attorney who’s a fierce advocate.

“There’s a strength there without undue aggression,” said Richard Sipe, a former priest who consults with plaintiffs’ attorneys about the inner workings of the Catholic Church and worked on the DiMaria case. “Some people beat you into submission by their bombastic presence. But she challenges you intellectually without beating you up.”

‘She Tends to Believe Everything They Say’

Peter M. Callahan, a Tustin attorney who represents the Diocese of Orange, said: “She’s always very well-prepared and she fights very hard for her clients, although she tends to believe everything they say at face value. And the truth is these cases on both sides often come in various shades of gray.”

Freberg won’t discuss her financial stake in the cases. (Lawyers’ contingency fees normally are about 30%.) “The only way to get the attention of the church is to hit them in the pocketbook,” she said. “I’d prefer criminal convictions, but that hasn’t happened.”

She points out that DiMaria settled his lawsuit for $5.2 million, much less than the $19 million he initially demanded, because the church agreed to adopt a number of policies in the Los Angeles and Orange dioceses that require an independent advocate for victims, an anonymous toll-free number to report alleged molestations, and information about sexual-abuse prevention distributed to parishes and schools.

Freberg married her longtime boyfriend in 1999. The couple live in Lake Forest, and she said her new black Mercedes-Benz and antique office furniture have been her only extravagant purchases since receiving her portion of the $6.4 million in settlements.

Asked what she does for fun, Freberg thought it over awhile. Then she gave up.

“Work, I guess,” she said. “I love work.”

But later, her husband, Jon Gates, phoned a reporter to make sure his wife wasn’t labeled boring.

“Did she tell you about shooting skeet, going to plays, throwing dinner parties, closing down half the Horseshoe Casino for our wedding reception?” he asked. “We’re going 24/7.”

Told this, Freberg laughed, embarrassed that her compulsiveness had blotted out any memory of fun: “Maybe I’m not so boring.”