Suspect Is Granted Bail in Shooting of Priest

In 1993, when Dontee Stokes accused a beloved parish priest of having molested him for three years, it seemed to some observers that the whole world was ganging up on the distraught 17-year-old.

On Friday, as a judge was deciding whether Stokes could be released from jail after he allegedly shot and wounded the priest earlier this week, the world seemed to have rallied around what they saw as a victim turned vigilante.

Cardinal William Keeler, who had reinstated the priest a decade ago despite the credibility of Stokes’ claim, apologized to Stokes from the pulpit of the Basilica. A Roman Catholic school principal, herself a nun, was among those who testified on his behalf. And, perhaps most remarkably, the state’s attorney’s office said it would support Stokes’ release on bail, a rare step in a first-degree attempted murder case.

In the end, District Judge H. Gary Bass set a $150,000 bail and ordered Stokes released to privately monitored house arrest at the home of an aunt--a resolution both prosecutors and defense attorneys said they had never before seen.

Friday’s developments in the Stokes case marked a rare turn in the sexual abuse scandal that is roiling the Roman Catholic Church, most notably the church’s public stand with the abused and vulnerable.

Convinced by developments since Wednesday’s initial bail hearing that Stokes would not try to flee the area or kill himself, Bass said Friday that his final concern was that Stokes not be in a position to hurt Father Maurice Blackwell, who is expected to survive his wounds, or anyone in Blackwell’s family.

Monday’s shooting of Blackwell “happened out of the blue,” Bass said. Given the circumstances, Bass said, “who’s to say it wouldn’t happen again?”

Stokes will stay with an aunt in an area “nowhere near” the Reservoir Street home Blackwell shares with his mother, or the house just two blocks away where Stokes lives. The 26-year-old barber will not be allowed to work and will wear an electronic ankle bracelet programmed to set off an alarm if he leaves the house for more than 59 seconds.

The background of Stokes’ case generated considerable public sympathy for him. After Stokes first reported the alleged abuse to authorities in 1993, he passed two polygraph tests, and investigators were convinced his claim was credible. “He did everything right,” one law enforcement official said this week.

But Blackwell denied the accusations and no charges were filed. Church authorities allowed Blackwell to return as pastor of St. Edward Catholic Church in West Baltimore, where he stayed until 1998. Church authorities forced him out of the ministry after he confessed to a two-decade-old affair with a boy.

Stokes’ lead attorney, Thomas McNicholas, said his law firm had received numerous offers to contribute to or set up a legal defense fund. The family, which has received calls of support from around the country, has opened a post office box to receive contributions and to encourage other abuse victims to come forward.

But Friday was the first time that Cardinal Keeler publicly acknowledged Stokes’ anguish and apologized to him and others sexually abused by Catholic priests.

“We know that there have been painful breaches of trust, and have dedicated ourselves to seeking solace for victims and fair punishment for perpetrators,” Keeler wrote in the Baltimore Sun.

But it was Keeler’s remarks, delivered from the pulpit of the city’s grandest cathedral at a midday Mass for the archdiocese’s youth ministers, that most directly addressed his own actions regarding Stokes.

“I take this occasion to apologize to Mr. Stokes, who has suffered immensely,” Keeler said. “I express my sympathy to him and his family members.”

Across town, meanwhile, about 100 of Stokes’ family members, co-workers and friends left no empty space in District Courtroom 4.

When Stokes, wearing handcuffs and a black jumpsuit, appeared on a closed-circuit monitor from the jail, his fiancee, Tiffani Taft, began wailing and was briefly escorted outside before regaining her composure and returning.

His 20-month-old daughter, Tenay, in a light blue dress, white stockings and white shoes, pointed at the monitor and said, “Daddy.”

Stokes’ father, Chinor Coleman, came from his home in Fayetteville, N.C. “That’s my son,” Coleman said proudly when psychiatrist Steve Siebert testified that Stokes was “praying for [Blackwell’s] recovery, and he is remorseful for his actions.”

In the courthouse parking lot, more openly jubilant family members managed to reach Stokes by cell phone. “We love you,” they took turns shouting.

Despite the prosecution’s support for the unusual outcome in the hearing, assistant state’s attorney Sylvester Cox said his office intends to fully prosecute the case.

Charles Stokes Sr., Dontee’s grandfather and the old-fashioned patriarch of a family that includes 47 grandchildren, tried to temper his happiness with realism.

“This is just phase one,” he said after the hearing. “Don’t kid yourself. You can pray all you want, but an act of violence was committed.”

But, he added, “Dontee has already served his time: nine years in hell. I hope the judge will see it that way.”