On Jan. 28, the Maine Law Court issued a highly consequential decision — one that could potentially bar civil suits by hundreds of litigants in this state claiming to have suffered sexual abuse as minors by members of the state’s Catholic clergy.

The case, Robert E. Dupuis et al. v. Roman Catholic Bishop of Portland, pitted two long standing legal principles against one another — the concept (though not always the reality) that for every wrong the law provides a remedy and the idea that there should be only a limited time after the commission of a wrong in which to initiate a legal proceeding to right it.

Time limitations on lawsuits are set by the legislatures of the various states and by Congress through the enactment of laws known as “statutes of limitation.” The rationale behind them is that evidence degrades with the passage of time — memories dim, records disappear, physical evidence is damaged or destroyed, witnesses die — and that it’s unfair to ask the alleged wrongdoer to defend himself when an overly long delay has deprived him of the ability to mount an adequate defense.

Since 1954, Maine has had a general statutory limitation period of six years for most civil suits. (Shorter limitation periods have been procured by certain classes of potential defendants with legislative clout, including two years for ski-resort owners, three years for health care professionals, and four years for architects, engineers and surveyors).

Until 1985, sexual abuse of minors fell under the six-year statute as well as the truncated limitation period of two years for assault and battery (although for the minors themselves, as opposed to their parents, the clock began to run only after they reached the age of majority). A 1985 statute specially established a six-year limitation for sexual acts against minors, which was lengthened in 1991 to 12 years. In 2000, the limitation was eliminated entirely, thereby subjecting sexual abusers to suit indefinitely but only for offenses occurring after the date of the law’s enactment and for previous offenses not yet barred by prior limitation statutes.

Finally, in 2021, the Legislature passed a law which purported to revive even time-barred suits, which stated, “Actions based upon sexual acts towards minors may be commenced at any time.” In the Dupuis case, the Law Court declared this a bridge too far. It would not, in effect, permit litigants to revive a corpse, because, to do so, would be to “impair vested rights” guaranteed by the Maine Constitution.

The Law Court put a lot of effort into deciding and articulating its holding in the Dupuis case, and two of its seven justices filed a lengthy dissent. At 101 pages, the decision is the size of a novella, and, though hardly a page-turner, is a well-crafted and thoughtful analysis. The Court certainly had a lot of raw material to work with. Not only did the parties file briefs but eight “friends of the court,” ranging from the Maine Coalition Against Sexual Assault to the American Property Casualty Insurance Association, submitted “amici curiae” briefs as well.

Not surprisingly, the decision was viewed by victims, their attorneys, and advocacy groups as a miscarriage of justice, and, indeed, it likely will deprive some older victims of their due. But, for a variety of reasons, the Dupuis holding is less a calamity than has been claimed.

Sexual abuse of minors by adults is hardly a new form of depravity. Despite taboos, laws, and religious injunctions, it’s been happening for millennia within families, communities and institutions — typically in secret. What’s different today is that it’s emerged from the shadows. Its victims have become more willing to step forward, and the justice system has become more aggressive in apprehending, prosecuting and punishing abusers.

The Catholic Church, though certainly not the only prominent institution to have found sexual abusers in its midst, appears to have employed more than its fair share. Accusations of abuse by Catholic clergymen worldwide began receiving public attention in the late 1980s and more widespread media coverage in the 1990s.

The Church’s sheer size, immense influence, and extensive involvement with young people historically gave it both widespread access to youth and the imprimatur of unquestioning trust, while its hierarchical structure and administrative secrecy enabled diocesan bishops to cover up the misdeeds of sexually predatory clergy in order to protect the Church’s reputation. The result was a perfect storm.

The commission of child sexual abuses by members of the clergy typically remained shrouded. Not only were the misdeeds concealed, but the victimized children were often too traumatized to disclose what they’d experienced and, until recently, respect for the Church made many parents disinclined to believe complaints of abuse even coming from the mouths of their own children.

After the dam finally broke in the early 21st century and the courts became flooded with lawsuits, the church changed its policies and practices to create more transparency and expel offending members of the priesthood. This development, along with the retooling of the justice system to better handle sexual abuse cases and the passage of legislation eliminating deadlines for child sex abuse suits, now points to a future where this sort of behavior will be neither easily secreted nor readily tolerated.

While it’s true that the absence of a statute of limitation will make it difficult for the Church to defend against accusations of acts occurring decades earlier, it also provides a strong incentive for its leaders to be vigilant in supervising and disciplining clergy to avoid to such behavior from occurring.

However, for the victims of an earlier era, especially from the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s, the ship may already have sailed. Robert Dupuis, one of 13 plaintiffs suing the bishop of Portland, is a case in point. He alleges that in 1961, when he was 12, a priest sexually assaulted him on multiple occasions. The limitation period ran out for him long before any of the statutory amendments to lengthen it.

Still the plaintiffs are not altogether without a chance of remedy. Two events, mental illness and fraud, can delay the running of the limitation period. If litigants can prove they missed filing deadlines due to fraudulent concealment of abuse or that the abuse itself mentally incapacitated them for a long enough time, they may be able to stretch the limitation period, like a rubber band, to bridge the gap.

The law may not provide a remedy for every wrong, but, in protecting minors from sexual abuse, Maine’s law has made great progress in creating a contemporary remedy for an age-old wrong.

Elliott Epstein is a trial lawyer with Shukie & Segovias in Lewiston. His Rearview Mirror column, which has appeared in the Sun Journal for 18 years, analyzes current events in an historical context. He is also the author of “Lucifer’s Child,” a book about the notorious 1984 child murder of Angela Palmer. He may be contacted at [email protected]