Render Unto Rome_ The Secret Life of Money in the Catholic Church - Jason Berry [131]
In September, 2002, Cardinal William H. Keeler publicized the names of 83 priests accused of sexually molesting in the Baltimore Archdiocese over a period of 70 years, saying in a letter to 180,000 Catholic households, “At times we have let our fears of scandal override the need for the kind of openness that helps prevent abuse.” The conduct of the Cleveland Diocese in resolutely resisting this Court even contemplating the Prosecutor’s modest request for an advisory opinion stands in marked contrast to the courage and responsibility displayed by Cardinal Keeler.
The attorneys proposed the naming of a special master to review all files to ensure that no victim or pivotal witness’s identity would be involuntarily disclosed. The issue was under review by the court as the year drew to a close.
THE CHRISTMAS BOMBSHELL
A central figure in the handling of Cleveland diocese finances was Anton Zgoznik, a totemic young man of six foot three who weighed nearly 300 pounds. A defensive tackle in high school football, he was a first-generation American of Slovenian descent. (His last name is pronounced Zuh-goz-nick.) Numbers sang for Anton Zgoznik. After studying business and accounting at John Carroll, he worked as a diocesan auditor in the early 1990s, then formed his own accounting and tax practice. Joe Smith outsourced lots of work: “We had a small staff for hundreds of entities doing audits and reviews. Anton’s firm grew from a three-person office to thirty people and more than $2 million annual billing of the diocese. Anton’s results were impeccable. It was all documented through our comptroller with engagement letters. Our books were regularly audited with no adjustment or review comment.”
But auditors did not see off-the-books accounts, transactions apart from normal payroll or invoiced payment by standard procedure. In a sense, the off-the-books accounts were like the little parish “slush funds,” only larger—sometimes, much larger.
The work between Smith and Zgoznik led to lunches, golf outings, the occasional dinner with their wives. Joe Smith, a dozen years older, had learned to submerge his ego around Pilla; he took some afternoons off to coach his two kids in sports, making up the hours at night. Pilla relied on Smith as a troubleshooter. When two of Pilla’s nephews tried to get lucrative business as diocesan insurance brokers, says Smith, “I told the bishop, ‘You’re gonna get killed on this.’ The commissions for a diocese of that size run half a million dollars and it’s publicly documented. Legit or not, no good would come of it for him. He thought about it, then said: ‘I don’t want anything to do with it—but you take care of it.’ I had to tell the nephews no. They weren’t happy.”
Anton Zgoznik, with an infant at home, put in marathon hours building his company. He drove his employees mercilessly, leaving a trail of people who quit or were fired. The list included the best man at his wedding, Zrino Jukic (pronounced Joo-kich). Zrino was not as tall as Anton but was nearly as large. Zrino idolized Anton. He, too, had an accounting degree, though Zrino Jukic’s work ethic was more casual. He never bothered to take the ethics portion of the CPA certification test, and he neglected to file his own tax returns for several years.60 Catholic high schools had been outsourcing their financial record keeping to Anton Zgoznik’s company. Zrino Jukic assisted the education secretariat of the diocese, as a kind of outsourced CFO. The job overwhelmed him. When Zgoznik slashed his handshake share of the company, Jukic was livid, yet he held Anton Zgoznik in a mixture of awe and fear. Zrino Jukic’s bad feelings spilled out in late December 2003 at a bar with several church employees who were also hostile to Anton. As drinks flowed, they recalled Anton’s blowout Christmas parties: work them