John Broderick spent countless hours over the past two years in a den-like conference room, listening quietly in the background as men and women recounted stories of the abuse they’d endured at New Hampshire’s former youth detention center.
The hearings were “painful to be in the room for,” said Broderick, a former chief justice of the New Hampshire Supreme Court. As the settlement fund administrator, he’d been tasked with assessing accusers’ claims of abuse that occurred under New Hampshire’s watch. If he found them credible, they were awarded financial restitution.
“At the end of the day, I would often go home and say to my wife, ‘Today was the worst day I have ever experienced,'” Broderick said. “If I couldn’t do anything for credible claims, I would just, I could never go back.”
Broderick took that job, he said, because the law establishing the settlement fund allowed him to be “neutral and independent” — an arbitrator who worked for neither side and was committed only to assessing what claims of abuse were true.
Broderick would tell those bringing forward claims: “If I couldn’t be neutral and independent … you wouldn’t be talking to me. I’m not beholden to anyone. I’m trying to figure out what happened to you.”
Changes to the state law took that neutrality away, Broderick said. Gov. Kelly Ayotte and the Legislature altered the YDC claims process to give the governor and attorney general overarching control over how much money is given to victims. Broderick departed from his role on July 31, one month after those changes went through.
“I think I have a pretty good sense of what justice looks like at this point in my life. This is not justice. Hard stop.”
John Broderick
By making the administrator a political appointee and allowing the attorney general to steamroll the process, Broderick said, the new system is unfair to the people looking to receive restitution for the crimes that occurred while they were in the state’s care.
“These aren’t kids who went to bed without TV. There were rapes, anal rapes, with electrified cattle prods on kids who were handcuffed to a bed,” Broderick said. “Who the hell are we as a state?”
‘Just say they abused me’
Former residents have filed nearly 2,000 claims of sexual and other abuse that occurred over several decades at the John H. Sununu Youth Services Center in Manchester. The state-owned juvenile detention facility held children accused of crimes and those involuntarily committed for mental health reasons.
As of June 30, 386 claims had been settled through the fund so far, totaling more than $210 million — mostly on track with the $75 million a year that the Legislature has considered allocating for the fund every year until 2032. Under former governor Chris Sununu, Attorney General John Formella championed the creation of the settlement fund.
But with a new governor came different priorities. Ayotte did not place any money into the fund in her initial budget proposal this February.
Over the course of the state budgeting process, top Republicans questioned the fund’s management under Broderick — both that the state was giving out too much money to victims, and that victims’ lawyers’ fees were being paid upfront instead of in staggered installments.
State Rep. Kenneth Weyler, chair of the House Finance Committee, for example, took issue in February with the size of the payouts and the strain that more settlements may have on taxpayers’ wallets.
“It just doesn’t make sense to me that someone who got abused, abused others and abused themselves should be rewarded and that’s the way it looks: Someone on the streets says, ‘YDC, I’ll just say they abused me and I’ll become a millionaire,’” Weyler said. “This is the example we’re setting.”
He later apologized for his statement.
Despite these questions, a state report requested by Senate President Sharon Carson found that the fund was operating in compliance with state law. Award amounts vary greatly — from less than $250,000 to more than $1.75 million — but as of the report’s completion in March, the average payment was $543,000.
The Legislature, when creating the settlement fund, mapped out the types of abuse and the base amount that would be given out for each claim found to be credible: from $2,500 for physical abuse with no significant injury to $200,000 for penetrative rape.
Due to partisan discontent with how much the state has spent already, Broderick said he believes the changes to the law were meant to move the settlement fund under the governor’s control so the state could lower payment amounts.
Under these changes, the settlement fund administrator — formerly Broderick — is placed under the executive branch instead of the judicial branch. While Broderick was unanimously confirmed by the state Supreme Court, the new administrator will serve at the will of Ayotte and the Executive Council.
The new law also opens the window for Formella and the attorney general’s office to reject a sum awarded by the administrator, meaning that even if the administrator and claimant both support one number, the state can reject it and tank the process, sending claimants’ hopes of financial restitution to court.
“They have now designed a system where the state — the defendant, so to speak — in many cases raped people,” Broderick said, “and who gets to decide what the raped person should get after this facade hearing? The state.”
Broderick said those court cases could get delayed for years. Over that time, some people will inevitably move away, go to jail, quit the process or die — all of which would save the state money, he said.
“I think I have a pretty good sense of what justice looks like at this point in my life,” Broderick said. “This is not justice. Hard stop.”
Ayotte’s office declined an interview for this story, citing the pending class-action lawsuit that claimants brought against the state to try and stop the changes. The governor instead directed questions to the attorney general’s office.
Formella said in a statement that the policy changes “rightfully bring this process in line” with how the justice system operates.
“This is the most transparent, qualified and neutral way of ensuring justice for victims and the sustainability of the fund in the long term,” Formella said, “while prioritizing victims over the trial lawyers who to date have profited more than those who suffered.”
The new policy language will have attorneys’ fees paid in equal installments and on the same schedule that the claimant gets paid.
Less funding
Policy changes aside, Broderick said Ayotte, Formella and the Legislature have backed away from the promises made by Ayotte’s predecessor, Chris Sununu. Formella had also initially championed the fund, saying the state was “committed to doing the right thing.”
But after Sununu initially pledged $75 million toward the settlements every year through 2032, the Legislature, under Ayotte, has changed its tune. Lawmakers assigned $20 million to the fund for fiscal year 2026, plus any revenue from the impending sale of the former detention center. The land and building combined are valued at $35.5 million.
Broderick also accused the governor of favoring her political allies — law enforcement — over the state’s most vulnerable people when she got the Legislature to approve her pension plan for Group II retirees, totaling tens of millions of dollars over the coming years.
“Maybe they deserved it, but not more than kids who have been raped,” Broderick said. “Good for them, but in any real-world circumstance when you have those two unequal trades here, I think you take care of the kids who were abused first.”
Some claimants have brought a class-action lawsuit against the state, alleging the changes breach previous agreements and are unfair to the victims seeking compensation. Ayotte and Formella are both named in the suit. A hearing is scheduled for Aug. 20 in Merrimack County Superior Court.