ALBANY (NY)
Times Union [Albany NY]
September 14, 2025
By Lilli Iannella
When Richard Salamone was 14 years old, a new pastor was assigned to his church in Little Falls in Herkimer County, and his parents “were hooked” on the priest’s charismatic demeanor. Attending Sunday church became a regular occurrence, and the priest would often join Salamone’s family for dinners featuring spaghetti and meatballs.
Little did Salomone and his parents know that was a facade, and that the teenage boy would soon become a target for the predatory priest. Salomone said the priest, Fr. John Patrick Bertolucci, went on to sexually abuse him, starting on a day when the priest had asked Salomone to spend a night at the rectory. Decades later, in 2002, Bertolucci would finally be removed from ministry by the Roman Catholic Diocese of Albany for sexually abusing a 12-year-old boy in the 1970s.
Over a three-day period that began Wednesday, Salamone was among dozens of victims who were sexually abused as children by priests and others in the diocese who finally got their day in court. During an extraordinary proceeding in the packed courtroom, and with numerous diocesan officials and fellow victims looking on, many of them spoke through tears or boiled over with anger as they described the life-altering abuse they had suffered as children.
More: Victims of sexual abuse tell their stories as judge, bishop listen.
“That night would complicate my life ’til this day,” Salamone said in court, referring to the first time that Bertolucci had sexually assaulted him.
The three-day court proceeding approved by U.S Bankruptcy Judge Robert E. Littlefield Jr. unfolded as efforts to obtain a global settlement for the victims with the bankrupt diocese and its insurance carriers has dragged on for more than two years.
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“In the meantime, survivors are dying off,” Salamone said, as tears filled his eyes when he concluded his statement. “I only hope and pray that it makes a difference.”
The Official Committee of Tort Claimants, which is comprised of sexual abuse victims and represents their interests in the bankruptcy case, had asked the judge to allow victims to make their statements on the record, in part, because many of them have failing health and others have died while awaiting the justice they are seeking through their hundreds of lawsuits filed against the diocese. Those lawsuits were paused after the diocese filed for bankruptcy more than two years ago.
“That opportunity (to be heard) has been unjustly denied to them for too long and has been prolonged by a bankruptcy case filed to address their claims, but into which they have minimal insight,” the tort committee wrote in its motion this summer requesting the special proceeding. “Allowing survivors to speak now will provide a small, but meaningful, measure of recognition and justice for the decades of isolation and pain they have endured and will result in the progress toward justice necessary to conclude this case.”
On Friday, as the emotionally charged proceeding stretched late into the third day, the judge reassured the packed courtroom that they would get through all of the statements.
“We’ll stay as long as we need to,” Littlefield said. “Everyone will be heard.”
The diocese — which is affiliated with or operates dozens of churches, schools and other entities — faces hundreds of claims of abuse under both the Child Victims Act and the Adult Survivors Act, which both temporarily lifted New York’s statute of limitations to allow victims to file lawsuits against their sexual abusers or the institutions that harbored them.
Littlefield noted during a conference in January that in the prior 13 months, the only thing the bankruptcy case had produced was “millions of dollars in professional fees.”
Salamone’s statement was one of the more than 50 victim-impact statements shared during the three-day proceeding, providing onlookers with details of how the childhood sexual abuse had inflicted lifelong harm, derailing their lives and in some instances, triggering substance disorders and emotional distress.
After the first day of testimony, which took place in Littlefield’s third-floor courtroom, it was moved on Thursday and Friday to a larger courtroom on the first floor of the federal courthouse — which remained packed.
Most of the statements were delivered in person by the victims, some whom wanted their names to be made public and others who asked to remain anonymous. Others opted to have their attorneys or other victims read their statements aloud to be included in the court record. And while many chose not to go into detail about the abuse they faced, others did and sometimes referenced the locations or church members associated with their sexual assaults.
“These are my earliest memories as a child,” one victim, now 36, said. “I didn’t quite understand what was going on.”
Nearly 200 people — including attorneys, family members of victims and about a dozen employees of the diocese — sat grim-faced through the grueling testimony in which the speakers often described how the sexual abuse they had suffered as children had destroyed their ability to maintain a normal life. Broken marriages and an inability to easily cope with everyday life has been a common thread for those who endured the abuse.
“There’s a lot more out there who are afraid to come forward. But it’s people like us who can help them,” one victim said.
The testimonies shared on Wednesday and Thursday inspired another victim, Michael R. Cioppa, who wasn’t planning on speaking at the proceeding, to share a statement in the form of a poem on Friday.
Another recurring theme in the heart-wrenching stories were the victims who were abused by priests who, under former longtime Albany Bishop Howard J. Hubbard, had been sent to church-run facilities to secretly receive therapy after they had been accused of sexually abusing children. Many priests were later returned to ministry, and some would go on to abuse more children.
Hubbard, who died in August 2013, had finally acknowledged his mishandling of those cases.
“When an allegation of sexual misconduct against a priest was received in the 1970s and 1980s, the common practice in the Albany diocese and elsewhere was to remove the priest from ministry temporarily and send him for counseling and treatment,” Hubbard said in a statement to the Times Union four years ago. “Only when a licensed psychologist or psychiatrist determined the priest was capable of returning to ministry without reoffending did we consider placing the priest back in ministry. The professional advice we received was well-intended but flawed, and I deeply regret that we followed it.”
But victims of the abuse, their parents and others have harshly criticized Hubbard for his actions, noting that he should have called police or, at a minimum, notified parishioners when a priest had been credibly accused of sexual abuse.
As the victims spoke, Albany Bishop Edward B. Scharfenberger, who succeeded Hubbard as bishop in February 2014, sat in the front of the courtroom at a table normally reserved for attorneys during trials and other court proceedings. His presence enabled the victims who spoke to tell their stories to the judge and to the diocese’s leader.
Victims like Jeanne Marron thanked Littlefield and those in the courtroom for “letting (our) voices be heard.”
Marron said she had been a victim of hundreds of incidents of sexual abuse over a five-year period beginning in the fall of her sophomore year of high school that continued through her sophomore year in college.
The incidents of physical, sexual and mental abuse, she said, have left her with depression, anxiety, post-traumatic stress disorder and suicidal thoughts — long-term effects that were a unifying factor in the statements of her fellow victims. And Marron, along with other victims like Salamone, said their faith in the Catholic church was destroyed.
“My biggest fear is if I step off this platform, this is it,” Marron said. “There’s going to be many more that continue to die before this is over with, and that’s not fair.”
In addition to health issues, victims like Gordon Smith said they have also struggled to maintain stable employment.
“The damage didn’t end when the abuse stopped,” Smith said. “Being violated by someone I trusted, someone who held a sacred and respected position, shook the foundation of my life.”
For many, it was their first time speaking publicly about their abuse after decades of silence. It was also an opportunity to be heard that the victims said is much more important than any compensation they may receive from a court settlement or judgment.
“I’d take erasing the abuse over money any day,” one victim said, noting he had been sexually abused starting at the age of 4. “Unfortunately, that can’t happen.”
“I carried the weight of silence because the adults around me failed to carry the weight of responsibility,” another victim said.
Numerous victims shared they faced years of abuse during their teenage years, although some were younger, including three women who said they were abused between the ages of 4 and 8 and that they had been groomed with candy. Many refer to themselves “survivors” because of the emotional harm afflicted on them.
“I’m a survivor, and I’m going to keep on surviving,” said a man who said he was abused as a teenager by a priest who had also baptized him when he was 10 months old.
Throughout the proceeding, some victims were overcome with rage while others broke down in tears, with embraces, tissues and companionship from other victims and supporters serving as the only form of comfort in the courtroom.
“You stole my childhood. You stole our childhood. … I’ll never get that back,” a victim who faced over three years of abuse said. “The abuse I endured scars and continues to leave scars.”
During the second day of the proceeding, Salamone read a statement written by a 57-year-old victim, who recalled abuse at LaSalle School in Albany, a residential treatment facility for troubled youth.
“I am trying, I am healing, and I will not let my voice be silenced,” Salomone said as he read the statement. “We are still here. Broken, hurting but speaking.
Cioppa, after reading his poem, handed Scharfenberger his necktie that he said he last wore during his confirmation 30 years ago, when he was photographed standing next to Hubbard, who at the time “had a grip on my abuse.”
“I told him don’t leave a legacy of distrust like Howard Hubbard did,” Cioppa said. “I never wore that tie again because I knew one day I would make a statement about my childhood abuse.”
After the proceeding ended late Friday afternoon, Scharfenberger told the Times Union about the emotional impact the statements had on him and he thanked those who came forward.
“I am overawed by the courage and the dignity with which so many survivors told us their stories or narratives,” Scharfenberger said. “They deserve to be commended for telling the truth. I heard with my heart, and I could see their hearts really reaching out, albeit covered with thorns and maybe barbed wire because of the pain that they suffered, and it was totally appropriate that they share that pain and that I absorb that too. … I think this should continue and that nobody should be afraid of coming forward.”
Esther Sun contributed reporting for this story.