A look back: The brutal, decades-long Broughton battle in Wake County courts
Note to readers: This story by former staff writer Sarah Avery ran in The News & Observer on Dec. 3, 1995. Robert Bain Broughton died in 2007. Read our prologue published on Oct. 23, 2020.
The house sits on a hill, looking down through a forest of tall oaks at the grand old-money homes to the left and right.
On an autumn day, the tall black shutters are closed over the windows. Withered leaves litter the circular drive.
For 30 years, the White Oak Road address has been the home of Celeste Gold Broughton. She and her husband, lawyer Robert B. Broughton, moved in two months before their first child was born. But barely four years into the marriage, Robert Broughton - son of a former North Carolina governor - left the stately house on the hill, and the couple began a 26-year domestic battle that rages to this day.
Convinced that her husband would use his power and influence to ruin her, Celeste Broughton took to the courts to fight for what she said was rightfully due her and her children - a just division of the property he controlled during their marriage.
She is still fighting.
The war between the Broughtons rates as one of the most protracted and contentious domestic battles in Wake County court history. Celeste Broughton has become such a familiar visitor to the courthouse that she is known there by her first name only. She has become a self-schooled lawyer adept at legal research and litigation.
To date, she has been a party to at least two dozen lawsuits, complaints and criminal actions involving her lawyers, her ex-husband’s lawyers, state and federal judges, district attorneys, The News & Observer and the Internal Revenue Service. Robert Broughton has suggested the actions are frivolous. Celeste Brougton has insisted they were necessary and, in many instances, were responses to his court actions.
Through them all, she has accused Robert Broughton of forcing their children to live in poverty, claiming she couldn’t afford to heat the nine-room White Oak estate. Her sons have testified that their teenage years were marred by a chronic lack of money.
Now, Celeste Broughton is back in court. This time, she is pressing a $4.2 million lawsuit against her former husband for educational expenses and property she contends he owes their children.
Like most of her earlier actions, the bulk of the current claims were dismissed when a judge last month ruled she had no grounds for a lawsuit.
And like earlier actions, the dismissal has not stopped Celeste Gold Broughton. She is challenging it, contending that the law is on her side.
Celeste Broughton would not discuss her case on the record for this story, saying she thought publicity would hurt her chances of succeeding in court. She has threatened to sue The News & Observer over this report.
Robert Broughton and lawyers on both sides also refused to be interviewed until the current suit is settled. Court officials and Broughton friends declined comment as well, some saying they feared they would be sued.
The following details of the long-fought Broughton case come from court files and other records.
The early years:
Celeste and Robert Broughton were married on Dec. 5, 1964, at First Presbyterian Church in Wilson. He was 40; she was 39.
She had known her husband for years: Prominent families of the region all socialized in the same circles. Her family owned the Wilson newspaper, and she was graduated from Vassar College, where she trained as a social worker.
The wedding made top billing on the society page of The News & Observer, what with Robert Broughton being the son of the late J. Melville Broughton, who was elected governor of North Carolina in 1941 and U.S. senator in 1948. Robert Broughton was a World War II Navy veteran and a well-known lawyer in his own right, practicing with his older brother in the now-defunct firm of Broughton and Broughton.
The newlyweds bought the house on White Oak Road in the fall of 1965, and on Nov. 19 of that year, their first son, Robert B. Broughton Jr., was born. Two years later, they welcomed another son, Justin John Gold Broughton.
Early on, however, the couple experienced what was referred to in court documents as “some unhappy differences.” In one of the first affidavits in a thick court file, Celeste Broughton said her husband had “no intention and desire to be a good husband and father.” She said examples of his “wrongful conduct” were “too numerous to set out.” Without providing specific details, Celeste Broughton also accused her husband in civil court of battering her - a charge he repeatedly denied as malicious and spurious.
Their “unhappy differences” had become irreconcilable by Nov. 25, 1968, when Robert Broughton was served with papers informing him that his wife was seeking a legal separation. He indicated in an affidavit that he believed the marital strife had been repaired.
“Prior to receiving said letter, the parties hereto had successfully resolved some of their differences and had resumed their full marital relationship with the view of having another child,” he wrote.
On Jan. 3, 1969, as soon as the holiday season had passed, Robert Broughton moved out of the White Oak Road house and in with his aging mother.
After two years of separation, Robert Broughton began dating a woman in Maryland in the summer of 1971. Divorced with four children of her own, Sumner Parham Campen told her children she hoped to marry and resettle in Raleigh as soon as Robert Broughton’s divorce was final.
In a deposition he gave to court officials in Maryland (during a hearing about custody arrangements for the Campen children), Robert Broughton indicated he expected little trouble getting his divorce. All that stood between him and the divorce, he told the Maryland court, was a financial settlement.
But there was ever so much more.
He said, she said:
At first, Robert Broughton’s petition for divorce in June 1972 appeared civil enough, but as the summer drew on, the heated exchange of legal demands between the Broughtons escalated.
She wanted him to disclose everything he owned, down to the contents of his safe deposit box. He eventually complied, but later it was determined that his listing of property had excluded stocks he held in trust for his sons and the structure of his ownership in a large tract of prime North Raleigh real estate.
After much wrangling, the Broughtons were divorced on Jan. 4, 1973.
Robert Broughton took from the marriage a portfolio of stocks, real estate holdings and other investments, as well as his substantial earning capacity as a lawyer. He agreed to support his former wife and children with $1,500 a month - the equivalent of $5,165 a month today - and to give her the house on White Oak Road, although she had to keep up the house payments.
He also agreed to pay her $7,500 to cover bills she accrued during the separation, plus $10,000 in $1,000 installments as a property settlement.
Robert Broughton also was obligated to “provide each of his children with a four-year college education upon the child’s request and at such colleges and such further graduate study there as the child and his parents mutually agree.”
That sentence, in addition to the property division, became the crux of the dispute that has put the Broughtons back in court.
Sixteen days after the divorce decree, Robert Broughton married Sumner Parham, and the two set up house down the street from Celeste Broughton on White Oak Road.
By May of 1973 - just four months after the divorce was granted - he went back to court to reverse the judgment of permanent alimony, money that at that time included child support. He wrote in his motion that Celeste Broughton had failed to pay bills at local merchants - Kerr Drug, Carolina Fuel, Ivey’s and Thalhimers department stores. The businesses eventually filed suit for payment, and she attached her ex-husband’s name as a third-party defendant, making him liable.
Celeste Broughton countered her husband’s request to vacate the property settlement with a request to have the entire divorce set aside. Both actions were denied.
Back and forth they went.
Robert Broughton paid support checks late, and fought, unsuccessfully, to get the payments decreased. He also deducted from her support checks money he spent to clothe his boys.
Celeste Broughton had her former husband arrested on trespass charges when, after she had warned him not to, he made a surprise visit to see his children. Facing such obstacles, Robert Broughton said, he gave up trying to see his sons.
After that, the youngsters mainly saw their father during battles in the courtroom, where they told of living in the huge house on the hill without enough food to sustain them and no heat in the winter. They complained that they subsisted on an income Robert Broughton provided that was “about the same as the income of a Raleigh sanitation worker.”
“All through high school, I was embarrassed by my lack of proper clothing and school supplies and lack of funds for school activities,” states a 1986 affidavit signed by Justin Broughton.
Robert Jr.’s affidavit reads: “For as long as I can remember we have had inadequate food, transportation, no heat in our residence, and nothing whatsoever to allow me to participate in the normal sports, school, academic and recreational activities of my peers. ... I have always been aware that the sole reason that we are poor was simply that that is the way our father wanted it.”
Fighting her own fight:
By the mid-1970s, Celeste Broughton quit hiring lawyers to represent her because she said she couldn’t afford them. She continued her fight on her children’s behalf by working as her own lawyer.
Her battles included malpractice lawsuits against two attorneys, complaints against state and federal judges and a libel lawsuit against The News & Observer, which had reported her arrest for contempt of court. All the actions were dismissed before trial.
As her own lawyer, Celeste Broughton was a dogged litigator, writing lengthy affidavits and motions on a manual typewriter. She also grew skilled in legal research, examining the web of personal finances Robert Broughton had established for his holdings.
In that pursuit in the late 1970s, she discovered a land deal that she said proved her theory all along - that her ex-husband had sheltered his assets to cheat her and her children. She termed it “a classic flimflam scheme.”
At issue was a 1969 land transaction that restructured the ownership of the North Raleigh acreage into a partnership that consisted of Robert Broughton and his two brothers. Celeste Broughton contended the partnership was set up shortly after her marriage dissolved with the intent of blocking any claims she or her children had to it.
She produced deeds of the land - now the future site of Triangle Towne Center Mall off Capital Boulevard north of Mini City - and argued that the brothers never actually transferred ownership from them individually to the partnership.
As a result, she argued in a 1981 federal lawsuit, the three brothers individually were the actual owners, giving her a right to stake a claim as a creditor. She also questioned the subsequent sales of the land, given the inconsistency in the deed. Her lawsuit sought upward of $19 million.
Federal judges dismissed her argument, although a bankruptcy judge questioned the deeds.
She pursued the issue all the way to the Fourth U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals. She lost. She wrote an argument last fall to the U.S. Supreme Court, urging it to hear her case. The court declined.
Meanwhile, a new battle had erupted in another courthouse. This time, Celeste Broughton had gained an unexpected ally who said Robert Broughton had “demonstrated insincerity, misrepresentation and deception.”
The ally was Robert Broughton’s brother and former law partner, J. Melville Broughton Jr.
A will and a way:
By the mid-1980s, Celeste and Robert Broughton’s two children had been accepted to Davidson College, one of the most respected private schools in the South.
Although Robert Jr. and Justin Broughton won scholarships and grants to cover the tuition, Celeste Broughton began pressing the children’s father to pay educational expenses as the divorce decree had stated. He declined, despite pleas from the boys themselves.
“Dear Father,” Justin and Robert wrote in a July 1985 letter, “Please let us know immediately whether you are going to pay the costs of our attending college. We made a request that you pay over a week ago. We must know your intentions, so that we can plan accordingly. ... If we do not hear from you ... we will have no choice but to assume you are again refusing to pay.”
Shortly thereafter, for reasons unexplained in court documents, Melville Broughton told his nephews about money they were due from their grandmother.
He then made his revelations official court record. In three affidavits in 1986 and 1987, Melville Broughton said his brother was a “man of considerable wealth” who had “shown no concern or interest (in fact a callous indifference) as a father in helping to provide his children with an education.”
Piece by piece, he reconstructed how.
Melville Broughton said his mother, Alice Broughton, wanted to set up trust funds of $30,000 for each of Robert’s two children, with the proceeds paying for their educational needs.
Melville Broughton wrote in the court document that Robert objected to his mother’s request, and “stated he should have control of the funds at a lesser amount (i.e., $48,000 total for his two sons) and that he would carry out the intent of the decedent that said funds be utilized for the education of his sons.”
In a subsequent affidavit, Melville Broughton said his mother had given Robert Jr. and Justin numerous stock gifts, including interest in the Wake Memorial Association. Robert Broughton was supposed to control the stocks until they became adults, but Melville Broughton said his brother converted the stocks to his own name and held onto them long after the children turned 18.
The existence of these assets surprised Robert Broughton’s sons.
Robert Broughton - whose salary in 1986 was $103,000, according to court records - eventually paid the children what he said was their share of the stock proceeds, but Celeste Broughton and her sons maintain the money was a fraction of what was owed.
Melville Broughton, reached at his home, said the issue is old and best left alone. He declined to comment.
But his revelation sparked a 1986 lawsuit in which Celeste and her children demanded that Alice Broughton’s dying wishes be fulfilled. They also pointed to the original divorce judgment as proof that Robert Broughton had been “wantonly cruel and oppressive” in denying funds for his sons’ educations.
She and her sons sought a lump sum of $700,000, plus punitive damages of $1.5 million.
In his response, Robert Broughton claimed that the divorce decree was not a mutual agreement. He said he was “under no court order, contract, covenant or binding agreements to pay for the college education” of his sons.
He also argued that, while he had been denied the benefit of a relationship with his sons, he had been supporting them monthly; income earned from Alice Broughton’s gift stocks had indirectly gone into those payments, he said.
As for his mother’s dying wishes, he said they were just that - wishes. He contended he was not legally required to fulfill them.
In court, a judge tossed out all of Celeste Broughton’s claims, but kept alive her sons’ demands to educational expenses. Celeste Broughton maintained that the judge’s 1987 order was wrong, since she had moved to have the lawsuit dismissed before he ruled. With a dismissal, she was free to file the lawsuit again within a year.
In 1988, Celeste Broughton and her sons did just that, this time seeking double the amount of the earlier lawsuit for a total of $4.2 million. Robert Broughton and his longtime lawyer, Bernard Harrell, filed a motion to dismiss the 1988 lawsuit on the grounds that it was the same case as the 1986 lawsuit, and that a judge already had rendered a decision. The motion was not immediately heard.
Then Celeste Broughton filed an amended claim. Under court rules, the opposing side must answer within a set period, or essentially admit to the allegations by default. Robert Broughton failed to answer the amended claim, so Celeste Broughton went to the clerk of court’s office and got a default. That was in the summer of 1988.
The final round:
After being scheduled for hearings periodically, the case was finally put on the civil trial calendar this fall. For the first time in nearly two decades, Celeste Broughton hired an attorney, Hayes Hofler of Durham.
In court files, Hofler argued that the default on his client’s 1988 amended lawsuit should stand because it was legally obtained and because so much time had elapsed. Such action would mean that Robert Broughton would be compelled to pay his wife $4.2 million.
Every step toward court and in court was hard-fought.
As it stands now, the case has again been narrowed to the very issues decided in court nearly a decade ago: Celeste Broughton’s claims were dismissed, and her sons’ demands for educational expenses were allowed to stand.
Late last month, Celeste Broughton moved to have that judgment vacated on the grounds that the judges who heard the case committed errors of law. She also called for her lawsuit to be designated an “exceptional civil case” so it could be handled by a judge who has never heard of her case.
Now the suit awaits yet another hearing in Wake Superior Court.
The sons were just babies when Celeste and Robert’s marriage fell apart; now, they are grown and, by all accounts, doing well. Justin is a resident physician at a Richmond hospital, and Robert Jr. lives and works in Raleigh. Neither appeared in court with his mother last month, and neither could be reached for comment.
Robert Broughton’s successes are evident: a partnership in the Raleigh firm of Maupin Taylor Ellis & Adams, a 4,300-square-foot inside-the-Beltline home, a membership at the exclusive Carolina Country Club.
Still married to Sumner Parham Broughton and stepfather to her children, Robert Broughton has no relationship with the sons he fathered almost three decades ago. He expresses hope for a reconciliation.
Celeste Broughton long ago put the house on the hill in a trust for her children, saying in court papers that it would be the only nest-egg they would ever have. And while the three acres span some of the most desirable real estate in Raleigh - easily worth several times the $400,000 tax value - the 3,500-square-foot house shows signs of age. A gray mildew climbs the six columns that establish its grand front.
Still, she refuses to sell the house and subdivide the land. It’s the principle of the matter: Why, she demands, should she sacrifice the only home her children have ever known because they are owed what she considers a legal and binding debt?
It is that same principle that has fueled two decades of litigation. She has never taken a job and instead focused her attention on her sons and her mission, logging more hours in court than many lawyers.
All she has lacked is a win: a final judgment saying, after so many years, that she had a valid claim.
This story was originally published October 23, 2020 at 10:50 AM.
