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Lawsuit: Church to blame for rape

Tim Evans, The Indianapolis Star
Silvia Gameros holds a religious candle in honor of her daughter inside the bedroom of their Jasper, Ind., trailer on April 24.
  • Indiana law says mentally disabled cannot give consent
  • Gameros says she allowed daughter to attend retreat because friend would keep an eye on her
  • Suit claims church tried to cover up incident

WASHINGTON, Ind. -- Silvia Gameros' daughter had attended overnight church events in the past. This time would be different.

Shortly after midnight on Nov. 4, 2007, while attending the church-sponsored abstinence retreat, she came upon a man standing in a stairwell. She didn't know the man but they talked a bit and began hugging and kissing. Then he led her to a bathroom, where things became more serious.

In the moments that followed, the then-23-year-old woman lost her virginity.

It's unclear if it was consensual, but in a legal sense, it didn't matter. Gameros' daughter is developmentally disabled; she has the mental capacity of a preteen. As such, she couldn't legally consent.

Five years later, the man having long ago been convicted of rape and deported, what happened to Gameros' daughter at the retreat — and the events that unfolded before and after — is the centerpiece of a civil lawsuit that pits a conflicted and guilt-ridden mother against her beloved Catholic church and former friends.

The lawsuit, which is pending in Daviess Circuit Court, raises provocative ethical and legal questions: Should anyone besides the rapist be held accountable for what happened in that bathroom? And, more broadly, what responsibility do organizations and individuals have to protect bad things from happening to vulnerable people at their events?

In her lawsuit, Gameros alleges that employees of the Diocese of Evansville failed to protect her daughter.

The basis for that, Gameros says, is her contention that she allowed her daughter to attend only after she had received assurances from a friend, who worked for the Catholic outreach group organizing the event, that she would personally keep an eye on her daughter. And there are other allegations: The lawsuit contends that church officials tried to cover up the incident, blamed the victim for what happened, suggested she take a "morning-after" pill to prevent pregnancy and even aided in the rapist's criminal defense.

"I felt like they tried to sweep all this under the rug and lay all of the blame on (my daughter)," Gameros said in Spanish during an interview with The Indianapolis Star. "One thing we hope from the lawsuit is that they realize what they did so there is not even a possibility this would happen to someone else in the future."

The lawsuit also names Our Lady of Hope Catholic Church, the Washington parish that owned the center that hosted the retreat for Hispanic youths, and Sister Karen Durliat and Gameros' former friend Kande Batz, who are outreach workers with the diocese's Guadalupe Center in Huntingburg.

A spokesman for the diocese declined to comment on the lawsuit's allegations. But in court filings, church attorneys say no one was aware of the young woman's mental state or had agreed to directly supervise her.

More significantly, they argue that no rape occurred, saying the young woman consented to the sexual encounter. And even if she had been raped, the church's attorneys say, the diocese should not be held accountable for the unforeseen, independent actions of the rapist.

"This is an ongoing civil case," said Rick Jillson, director of communications. "We at the Diocese of Evansville pray that a just verdict is reached."

The situation has created much heartache and hard feelings among those involved in programs at the Guadalupe Center, a Hispanic outreach ministry where Gameros and her family were active. The center helped sponsor and provided supervisors for young people attending the overnight retreat.

Lives turned upside down

Gameros said she was reluctant when Batz, whom she considered a close and trusted friend, extended a last-minute invitation for her daughter to attend the retreat.

The short notice meant the young woman — then 23, with the body of an adult but the mental capacity of an 11-year-old — would not have a family member watching out for her as had been the case when she attended other retreats. Gameros went against her maternal instincts, though, because, she assured herself, her friend would be there to keep an eye on her daughter.

The decision also was influenced, she said, by a sense of duty to help Batz pull together a large crowd for the program. Gameros explained she wanted to see the friend, who had helped her family in the past, shine in the eyes of the out-of-state facilitators putting on the event.

"As a mother, this is the worst thing that could have happened," Gameros said. "I had never left her alone before. It was due to my deep friendship that I let her go, and I think this was my error, truthfully. If it was done to me, I could have handled this better."

Batz, through Guadalupe Center Director Durliat, declined to comment for this story.

While many issues regarding what happened at the retreat remain in dispute, one central fact is not: Gameros' daughter and Fredy Mendez-Morales, then 25, engaged in a brief sexual encounter in the early morning hours of Nov. 4, 2007.

It occurred in a bathroom after most of the participants had gone to sleep.

Females had been sent to one room to spend the night. Males were assigned to sleeping quarters in another room.

Shortly after midnight, Gameros' daughter left the girls' sleeping area to use the bathroom. As she returned, she saw Mendez-Morales in a stairwell, and they started talking.

Before long — even though they had never spoken before — the two were hugging and kissing. At some point, Mendez-Morales and the young woman crawled over a stairwell security gate and slipped into another bathroom on an upper floor.

The pair briefly engaged in intercourse, according to a police report, before being startled when they heard Batz and quickly put their clothes back on.

It remains unclear exactly what happened next, but records show Batz and others in charge were aware the young woman and Mendez-Morales had engaged in a sexual act. In a deposition taken by church attorneys, Mendez-Morales said Batz "was yelling and saying that she is going to call the police because you raped her."

At some point after that, according to the lawsuit, the scene "was cleaned of (the victim's) blood."

But the incident was not reported to Indiana State Police until nearly 20 hours later — after Gameros took her daughter from the retreat and drove to Jasper Memorial Hospital. An emergency room nurse who examined the young woman saw blood and other signs of a possible sexual assault and called police.

In an interview with an investigator a few weeks after the incident, Mendez-Morales acknowledged having sex with the victim but insisted it was consensual.

In April 2008, Mendez-Morales was arrested and charged with two counts of rape: one alleging the intercourse was compelled by force and the second alleging the victim "was so mentally disabled" that she could not consent to the encounter.

The criminal case against Mendez-Morales came down to the issue of whether the victim, although an adult, was legally able to provide consent to the sexual encounter because of her mental state — and if he was aware of her mental state.

Even when no force or threat is involved, a person can be charged with rape in Indiana if they are aware "the other person is so mentally disabled or deficient that consent to sexual intercourse cannot be given," explained France Watson, a criminal law professor at the Indiana University Robert H. McKinney School of Law in Indianapolis.

Mendez-Morales initially claimed "he did not notice anything wrong with her and thought she was normal," but ultimately agreed to a plea deal that resulted in a 10-year prison sentence and set up his deportation to El Salvador.

His decision was influenced by the findings of two psychologists who examined the victim.

"It is my opinion, based upon the medical and educational history, as well as psychological testing, that (the victim) is not capable of engaging in consent and is consequently incompetent," Thomas E. Holsworth wrote in a letter to the Daviess County prosecutor.

Another psychologist hired by the public defender representing Mendez-Morales agreed: The young woman was not legally capable of consenting to sex.

Defense relies on consent issue

The issue of consent remains a cornerstone of the church's defense against Gameros' lawsuit.

Attorneys for the diocese, who did not return a call seeking comment, say in court documents there was no rape and that the sexual encounter was consensual. It's a contention they have continued to make despite Mendez-Morales' criminal conviction based on the victim's inability to consent.

Watson said such cases are complicated and highly fact-sensitive. But she added that the guilty plea could make it more difficult for the church to mount its defense.

"The conviction shows that a crime occurred under their watch," she explained. "It also makes it harder for them to argue the sexual encounter was consensual."

The lawsuit, however, is less focused on the rape itself than whether organizers had any responsibility to protect the victim and, if so, whether they breached that duty.

Gameros filed the lawsuit in October 2009, seeking monetary damages to cover medical care and counseling for her daughter and punitive damages "to deter the defendants and others in similar situations" from failing to protect children and vulnerable adults in their care.

But the litigation has progressed slowly. Most recently, it's been on hold while another case that could help clarify the liability issue works its way through the Indiana Supreme Court.

That case focuses on the responsibility of a property owner — a hotel operator — when a guest is the victim of a crime. The state's top court heard oral arguments Feb. 14, and a potentially precedent-setting decision is expected soon.

If Gameros' suit is successful, the Supreme Court ruling could help determine whether the church would be responsible for financial damages.

But there is a difference in the two cases. Gameros contends Batz agreed to take responsibility for her daughter at the retreat, which could add to the church's duty.

That assertion is among the legal battle's many contested allegations — most dealing with widely differing accounts of what happened after the sexual encounter was discovered.

The victim asked to call her mother, according to the lawsuit. Batz refused but promised to call her mother in the morning. In the meantime, the victim was instructed to take a shower and go back to sleep.

Attorneys for the diocese say the young woman never told anyone she was raped and admitted to having consensual sex. They say she pleaded with Batz not to call her mother, but Batz called Gameros at 7:45 that morning.

The diocese attorneys also argue that no one associated with the event tried to bully the victim into taking responsibility for the incident or recommended she take the morning-after pill, as the lawsuit alleges.

Diocese and the defense

Waiting for the case to go to trial, Gameros said it is difficult to say what angers her most: what happened to her daughter or the reaction of friends and church leaders.

Of particular concern, she says, is evidence that attorneys for the diocese provided legal assistance to the man who raped her daughter.

"The diocesan attorneys worked hand in glove with Mendez-Morales' attorney on the criminal case," Gameros attorneys claim in one court document that includes copies of emails between the lawyers.

"I hate to have to bother you guys," public defender Blake Chambers wrote in a July 1, 2009, email to diocesean attorneys David Miller and Clay Havill, "but any assistance you can give me ... would be appreciated."

Miller responded a few hours later: "We will prepare a draft response for you to use as you see fit."

About two weeks later, Chambers sent Miller and Havill another email.

"Thanks again for the excellent work you did in providing me the legal basis for the judge to rule in our favor," he wrote in the July 13, 2009, message. Chambers went on to explain his client had been offered a plea deal.

"I know that can't be a good thing for the Diocese, ..." he added.

The legal collaboration may appear troublesome but probably did not violate professional standards, according to Geoffrey C. Hazard Jr., a legal ethics expert and professor at the Hastings College of Law in San Francisco.

"Some things are not illegal or malpractice, but they still aren't good things to do," he said. "That's what I see here. It's worrisome, but more like a question of 'civic morality.'"

Beyond that, Gameros said she can't fathom why the then-25-year-old rapist, a father of two who had a history of gang affiliation, was at the abstinence retreat. She suspects that, like her daughter, he was invited in a last-minute push by Batz to bolster attendance numbers.

"I considered we had a deep friendship," Gameros said of her relationship with Batz. "It was due to that deep friendship that I let my daughter go. Kande Batz knew (my daughter) was in special education classes. She knew full well (my daughter's) mental state."

Gameros said Batz and others from the church and Hispanic outreach center — a cultural and social institution central to the area's Hispanic community — turned their backs on her family after she confronted them about their handling of the rape. Batz did call a few days after the incident, Gameros said, and left a phone message asking about her daughter. But Gameros was still angry and didn't return the call.

"From that point on, they never called me or came near me. It was like we were excommunicated when this happened," Gameros said. "It was like they wanted to lay all the blame on (my daughter). It was like they wished we would just go away."

Gameros and her daughter now spend most of their time in Louisville, Ky., where another daughter is attending college. They hope the distance will help them heal.

But the victim, now 29, still has nightmares, Gameros said, and often spends hours crying in her room.

"It seems like there have been no repercussions for anyone there," she said. "But for me and my daughter, our lives have been turned upside down."

The incident, however, has not shaken Gameros' deep inner faith.

"I still believe in God," she said. "What I have lost faith in is the people."

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