Secret Tapes Priest Sued for 'Malpractice'

Oct. 3, 2002 -- When Julie Mabus' husband, former Mississippi Gov. Ray Mabus, invited their Episcopal priest to come over and talk about their deteriorating marriage, she did not know what both men knew: that her husband planned to secretly tape-record the conversation.

The meeting was confrontational: her husband told her he knew about the affair she was having, and she lashed out, telling him she hated him and would make their two daughters hate him too.

The former first lady says she believed the conversation was in confidence. But in the ensuing divorce proceedings, she learned that her husband had taped the conversation — and that the priest, Father Jerry McBride, had known about it but did not tell her. In a bitter custody fight, a judge ruled that the couple's two daughters should split time evenly between their mother and father. But he awarded legal custody to the father, saying that he was the "more emotionally ... stable parent."

The taping itself was legal, but now the former first lady — who is now known as Julie Hines — is suing McBride and his church for "clergy malpractice," claiming that the priest violated his position of trust by not revealing that the 1998 meeting was being taped. Her lawsuit argues that priests should be treated like doctors, attorneys and other professionals. Hines is not suing her ex-husband.

Previous "clergy malpractice" lawsuits have failed, with courts reluctant to intervene in an area protected by the First Amendment's freedom of religion clause.

Bright Young Couple

The Mabuses both came from affluent, well-connected backgrounds and their marriage in 1987 attracted a lot of attention in the Mississippi capital, Jackson. "They were seen as a very attractive, powerful couple with a bright future," said Sid Salter, veteran political columnist for the state's Clarion-Ledger newspaper.

Ray Mabus was state auditor at the time, but later that year was elected governor. He was defeated for reelection four years later, but the couple remained in the limelight when he served as ambassador to Saudi Arabia from 1994 to 1996.

When the couple came back to Jackson, though, "the gilded life melted and a lot of the reality began to set in," Hines told Primetime recently. She said she became lonely and started an affair with an old college friend.

By January 1998, Ray Mabus had learned of his wife's affair. He asked McBride to come and talk to them about their marriage, and told him that on the advice of his lawyer he planned to record the conversation without his wife's knowledge.

McBride was rector at St. James' Episcopal Church in Jackson. Hines' parents had helped found the church, and she had attended it from childhood. McBride had presided over her mother's funeral, her marriage to Mabus, and the baptism of their two daughters.

Angry Remarks Preserved on Tape

When McBride arrived at the Mabuses' house, Ray Mabus had three hidden tape recorders running. With the recorders preserving every word, Mabus told his wife he knew about the affair and gave her three choices: to stay in the marriage, a no-fault divorce, or a custody battle over their daughters. He warned that a custody battle could be ugly: "We go to war. I see grounds for divorce, adultery and inhuman treatment.... It will be awful. It will be awful for the children."

McBride had initially told the Mabuses he was at the meeting "for both of you," but when Hines pressed him he told her he was there for her husband: "I've been working with Ray." When she asked him why he didn't invite one of her friends to the meeting to act as her advocate, he told her: "Julie, I had no right to call anybody. That would have broken a confidence. I can't legally do that."

Hines accused the two men of ambushing her. Realizing that custody of their children was at stake, she became angry. "I need my children," she told her husband. "You want to see somebody come after your f—-ing b—-s with a rusty blade? I'll do it in a minute. No one can take the children from me."

And, in a statement that would be repeatedly cited by a psychiatrist testifying for her husband during custody hearings, she said: "Look in my face just a minute. I hate you. I hate you with my very soul. I will hate you till the day I die. And I will tell my children. I will tell my children."

Priest Caught on Tape

Shortly after the meeting, Hines heard from her friends that McBride had called them and told them about the conversation. "I was stunned," recalls Beth Henley, one of the friends McBride called. "It seemed a betrayal of privileged personal information that I didn't feel I needed to know, especially not in that way, from him."

After learning about the taping — and McBride's knowledge of it — during the divorce, Hines decided to confront the priest, this time wearing a hidden tape recorder herself. McBride acknowledged that he had known the meeting was being taped:

Hines: Did you know that Ray was wired?McBride: Yeah, I think so. I think he told me he was going to have a tape recorder.Hines: You knew before he walked in on me that he was going to have a tape recorder on him?McBride: Like I say, Julie, I would do some things differently. I'm not going to get into an argument with you about it.

Hines was furious. "In one fell swoop, my belief system in my church and in one of the closest people in my life was destroyed," she told Primetime, adding: "How could my dear friend and priest perpetrate such a betrayal?"

Reacting 'Like a Lioness'

The judge in the custody case ended up awarding sole legal custody to Mabus as the "more emotionally and mentally stable parent," although he ordered that the girls should spend six months a year with each parent.

Hines says now that she regrets some of the statements she made at the 1998 meeting, but said she made them because she was "terrified" at the prospect of losing custody of her daughters, and reacted "like a lioness in a corner." She says her angry reaction had nothing to do with her fitness as a parent. "Am I a good mother? How do I behave around my children? These are the things that are important," she said.

Mabus declined Primetime's request for an interview. His lawyer said in a statement that the recording was legal under Mississippi law, and was done in order "to preserve without question the statements made by everyone present."

Lawsuit Alleges 'Clergy Misconduct'

By the summer of 2000, McBride had left the church — after a dispute with the church unrelated to the Mabuses' divorce — but was still a familiar sight around Jackson, driving around in his silver Porsche and playing in local clubs in a rock 'n' roll band.

Hines says she complained to the church about his actions in 1998, but says she was offered her no apology and was instead told to keep quiet and "let it go." Angry at their response, she brought a lawsuit in 2001 accusing McBride and the Episcopal Diocese of Mississippi of "clergy malpractice," breach of duty, fraud and negligence. The suit — Mississippi's first clergy malpractice case — alleged that McBride violated his position of trust when he took part in a counseling session that he knew was being secretly recorded.

"What Jerry did was wrong. What the church did was wrong.... I was betrayed. I was abandoned. And I don't want this to happen to anyone else," Hines told Primetime.

The lawsuit claims that as a priest, McBride received "specialized training ... in the area of counseling" so when he allowed the "taping of a confidential counseling session" he violated the "generally accepted standards of care adopted by clergy professionals."

"Whether it's a church or a corporation or a doctor or a hospital, it's the same concept," says Kathy Nester, one of Hines' attorneys. "People entrust priests with a lot more than they even entrust lawyers and accountants with."

McBride and the diocese declined to comment, but their lawyers have said that the taped meeting was simply a discussion among friends, not a formal counseling session, so Hines had no right to expect confidentiality.

"If you're having a conversation with an Episcopal priest, you assume it's going to be confidential," Hines told Primetime.

Lawyers Say Case Will Be Uphill Work

Other priests say they regard keeping confidences as a sacred trust. "The church is a place of safety," said Ron Mumbower, a trained counselor and minister at the First Baptist Church in Jackson. "If somebody came to see me ... and it's broadcast everywhere else, then it could become gossip or become just an instrument to use to hurt them." Mumbower said he had declined requests from parishioners to participate in secret tapings.

Experts on religion and the law say Hines' lawsuit faces tough odds, noting that there has never been a verdict of clergy malpractice that survived appeals. "In order to decide these cases, you'd have to have standards of what constitutes reasonable counseling behavior by a clergyman. And you cannot do that without getting into issues of religious doctrine, religious ideas, and theology. And that would be inappropriate for courts to do," said Ira Lupu, a professor at George Washington University.

In August, a judge threw out Hines' breach of duty claim, ruling that McBride's position as a priest did not mean he had any special responsibility to tell Hines about the taping and that there was no evidence she had placed "a special trust or confidence" in him during the meeting itself. However, Hines' lawyers have asked the judge, Bobby DeLaughter, to recuse himself because he accused Hines of bringing the lawsuit in a "vain pursuit of lucre" that could harm her daughters. They argue that it is inappropriate for a judge to accuse a plaintiff of financial motivation, and that the effect on the couple's daughters is not part of the clergy malpractice case.