Why Me? (Part 5 of 8)

In 2011, an article in USA Today profiled serial molesters. It came out because of the charges against coach Jerry Sandusky at Pennsylvania State University. Donna Leinwand Leger interviewed psychologist Michael Seto, director of forensic rehabilitation research at the Royal Ottawa Health Care Group in Canada.

Here are excerpts from that article.

• “Serial child molesters seek out vulnerable children and cultivate relationships with them . . .”
• “They are not picking children at random . . .”
• “They are seeking out children who will be more receptive to their approach—children who may be socially cut off, impoverished, lacking a father figure.”[1]

Experts have a name for what those predators do by giving gifts, having outings, sleepovers, and other ways to have physical contact with their prey. They call it grooming. That is, they gain a child’s trust and ultimately get them accustomed to sexual behavior.

“When the grooming starts, the child may like the attention. They like the individual. The children are oftentimes very conflicted,” said Ryan Hall, a forensic psychiatrist in private practice in Lake Mary, Fla.[2]

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[1] “Predator Profiles Mere Sketches” by Donna Leinwand Leger, USA Today, November 16, 2011, 6A.
[2]Ibid.

Knowing and Not Knowing

On February 19, 2016, I posted a blog called ”Unpleasant Things” about families refusing to know about sexual assault in the home.

Andrew Schmutzer, a frequent responder to this blog, commented, “They don’t know, because they don't want to know. This is an ETHICAL issue, not a cognitive one.” His response resonated with me.

Immediately I thought of the trial of Jerry Sandusky of Penn State. He sometimes took his victims into his basement, and one survivor said he screamed for help. Sandusky’s wife testified that she never heard any cries.

I can only conclude Sandusky’s wife didn’t want to hear.

We often don’t hear or see those terribly unpleasant things. Too many men have told me that other family members didn’t believe them or insisted, “You’re angry and making up things.” Or “He would never have done such a thing.” Those words add more pain. Like Andrew says, “They don’t want to know.”

In the film, A Few Good Men, Colonel Jessup (Jack Nicholson) is asked to tell the truth. He ends his diatribe by shouting, “You can’t handle the truth!”

Too often those who should believe us can’t accept the truth. But then, I realize that all of us have some of that not-knowing-the-truth.

When any criticism or accusation is something we’re not ready or unable to hear, we deny it. I think of many times my friends or enemies tried to tell me something distasteful or repulsive about myself. Until I was open, I never “heard” them.

I make this point to say, we also need to learn to forgive those deniers. They help victimize us without realizing their wrongdoing.

I forgive my perpetrators;

I also forgive those who hurt me by being unable to face the truth.

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Are there questions or specific topics you'd like Cec to address in upcoming blog entries? If so, please send an email to his assistant at the following address: cecilmurphey(at)mchsi(dot)com.

"Who Would Believe Kids?"

(an encore post by Cecil Murphey)

"Who would believe kids?"

I read those words in the newspaper as part of the testimony of a then-12-year-old boy who testified in the Jerry Sandusky sexual abuse trial.

Since then, I've pondered those words.

It's strange how it works with parents. We know those overly protective parents who believe anything their children say and become angry over the slightest injustice they suspect someone has done to their precious child.

It's the other kind of family that troubles me. "Who would believe kids?" That's the cry of a child in pain, a boy who knew he wouldn't be believed and didn't have an adult to stand up for him.

Why wouldn't he ask that question?

His words haunt me because it's a question I might have asked. It didn't occur to me to tell an adult—any adult. I didn't feel anyone cared enough so why would I consider telling? I felt totally alone.

I wonder how many molested kids have asked, "Who would believe kids?"

Victimized Again

(By Cecil Murphey)

I heard comments on TV after the sentencing of Jerry Sandusky for sexually molesting ten boys—and most people know there were far, far more. At his sentencing, one of the survivors said "You had the chance to plead guilty and spare us the testimony. Rather than take the accountability, you decided to try to attack us as if we had done something wrong."

As I listened to that statement and the rest of the report, two words hit me: Victimized again.

To his great credit, Judge Cleland said to Sandusky, "The crime is not only what you did to their bodies but to their psyches and their souls and the assault to the well-being of the larger community in which we all live."

Sexual molestation shatters our lives. Even after we begin to heal, we still face being misunderstood, questioned, and even contradicted. That victimizes us again. Cleland and the jurors understood; the "larger community" doesn't seem to grasp the meaning—or perhaps they're too uncomfortable to ponder the message.

When we need compassion, we feel accused; when we speak, others tell us to be quiet; when we need to be believed, they question our integrity.

I doubt that any of us expected an apology from Sandusky. But he not only maintained his innocence and made a horrible statement, "I would cherish the opportunity to be a little candle for others as my life goes on as they have been a huge light to me."

(This post first appeared at Joyful Heart Foundation.)

"I'll Never Forgive You."

(This entry from Cec Murphey was originally posted on Mariska Hartigay's Joyful Heart Foundation site on 10/25/12.)

For several days, one sentence has continued to trouble me: "I'll never forgive you." Those words were spoken by the man identified only as Victim 4 at the Jerry Sandusky sentencing on October 9, 2012. His emotional cry says several things to me.

The most obvious is that he expresses the unhealed pain that comes from betrayal. At the trial itself, Victim 4 and other survivors referred to the gifts and personal attentiveness from Sandusky, who became their role model. Then came the molestation. Until then, Sandusky had probably been the most trusted man in their lives. His wooing them through seductive actions and evil motives caused an unrelenting pain that still remains.

Perhaps the words are also an unconscious cry to the perpetrator to admit what he did. If I faced someone and shouted those words, it would signify an unconscious or unspoken plea: "Please tell me you're sorry for how deeply you wounded me. Help me understand why you would hurt me." When the victimizer is someone we admire and love, the hurt becomes far more intense.

The words also speak of despair. What Victim 4 lost as a boy won't ever be restored, even if his perpetrator confesses. As a survivor of sexual molestation, I know how abuse damages us for life. We're emotionally shattered and we don't know how to trust others. We're suspicious of the motives when someone treats us kindly. We push away many good people because one bad person took advantage of our naïveté and youth.

Possibly the words are also a threat. It's as if to say, "You want absolution for your wrongdoing but you'll never, never get it from me." They seem like words to withhold forgiveness and that will punish the guilty.

Even worse, the words mean we carry the pain and refuse to offer compassion for the wrongdoer. I call myself a serious Christian and many of my peers would jump on Victim 4's words and insist, "You must forgive him."

If I could speak to Victim 4, I'd say, "Feel your pain. Don't release it until you're ready. If you move forward to find your own healing, the day will come when you'll shed your anger and freely offer your forgiveness (even if you never tell him).

I think of his statement as much like people who grieve after the death of a loved one—an awareness of the abuse is like death—the end of a powerful, emotional relationship.

"Number 4, grieve as long as you need to. Don't push yourself or allow anyone to nudge you toward letting go. When you're ready, you won't need prodding."

"We Didn't Know."

(This entry from Cec Murphey was originally posted on Mariska Hartigay's Joyful Heart Foundation site on 7/5/12.)

"We didn't know," the civilians said when asked about the gas chambers after World War II.

"We didn't know," neighbors say when they learn that the man across the street had molested a boy.

"We didn't know," parents say when their adult children talk about their past sexual abuse.

When I began to deal with my abuse, I told my three older sisters. They said the same thing.

I don't think they were lying. I think they couldn't accept the enormity of the revelation. If they had known, perhaps they wouldn't have been able to face the personal guilt for doing nothing.

What about abused kids' point of view when they hear those responses? One of the witnesses against Jerry Sandusky said he never told anyone. Asked why, he repeated an answer that rang true to me and to many others, "Who would believe a kid?"

When the perpetrator is a prominent person in the community, leads a scout troop, teaches Sunday school, or runs a charitable organization for kids, who wants to hear such stories?

The answer: No one wants to hear such stories.

Perhaps the question should be, Who needs to hear such stories?

When asked that way, the answer is obvious. Parents, religious and civic leaders need to hear. But too often they don't.

Sandusky's wife said she never heard the boy screaming in the basement. Apparently, she also didn't know when their adopted son said Sandusky molested him repeatedly for several years.

When will they believe us?

When will the cries of bruised and raped boys be heard?

Until they are, the survivor on the witness stand has spoken for all of us who were abused in the past. He speaks for those who are or will be molested.

"Who would believe a kid?"

Goliath Won

After his sentence on October 9, 2012, Jerry Sandusky wrote a letter to Judge Cleland in which he compared his court trial with the biblical encounter of David and Goliath. "I was supposed to be David but failed to pick up the slingshot. Goliath won . . . "

He's right—Goliath won.

However, Sandusky was Goliath—a giant—when he abused those small boys, who didn't have slingshots and stones with which to fight. He won again when he denied his guilt. A third win was the re-victimizing of those boys in court when they were forced to recount their molestation in front of strangers and doubters.

No one knows how many little Davids suffered because of that one overpowering giant. But a few finally picked up slingshots. With tears and deep-seated anguish, those brave Davids testified about their abuse. And the jury believed them. The words at the sentencing make it clear that Judge Cleland believed it was time to punish Goliath.

For a few of us, there is justice.

But what about the cost to those once-innocent children? Those survivors again faced shame, rejection, pain, as well as criticism and denial for justice to prevail.

"I Just Dealt with It."

The eighth young man, a recent high-school graduate, was the last prosecution witness to testify in the Jerry Sandusky trial. When questioned by the defense lawyer, he said, "I just dealt with it."

I doubt it.

Or maybe he did—the way many of us dealt with our molestation. We struggled inwardly. We tried to deny it happened. We determined not to talk about it and thus we'd forget. None of those strategies worked.

So we didn't deal with it. But we tried.

And we tried.

And too many are "just dealing with it" even now.

It takes courage to speak up about our abuse and to let the world see that we were victimized by older, larger people. We didn't expect to be believed as children; why should we expect to be believed after 10 or 40 years?

But some—like that 18-year-old boy and the others who have testified in the trial—have come into the open. They've told their story.

And many of us believed them.

"I just dealt with it."

I hope I never have to hear another survivor say those words.

"I Wish I Were Dead."

"I wish I were dead."

An investigator in the Jerry Sandusky trial claims he overheard those words as well as statements about being sorry.

Those words didn't come from an accuser; they came from the mouth of Sandusky himself. The statements ring true. As a survivor, I believe the testimonies of the boys who have spoken against the one-time hero and humanitarian.

The investigator stated Sandusky also said he was sorry, but in the news flash on CNN, there were no details. I truly hope the accused man said—and meant—those words.

Why wouldn't the former coach hate himself? Why wouldn't he wish to be dead instead of facing up to his crimes? This is the day of reckoning to fit the words of Moses, who cried out, "Be sure your sin will find you out."

What must it feel like to be faced with the accusing voices of several boys whose lives he ruined? No matter how self-deceptive he may be or how many lies he's told himself, why wouldn't he want to be dead? Why would he want to be publicly maligned?

Sandusky's reputation is gone and he's lost fame and respect. He'll probably face civil suits as well. Who will remember the good things he did and the people he helped? Because I believe he is guilty, I also believe he deserves punishment.

Despite that, I feel sorry for Sandusky—and I may be one of the few survivors who does. Like many predators, he must despise himself for the damage, self-hatred, and shame he brought to those young boys. How must it feel to be so addicted to children that he did it year after year after year? Even after authorities attempted to intervene in 1998.

So he continued and everybody loses. Those boys—now adults—will probably spend the rest of their lives trying to heal. For some of those survivors, this is a long-yearned for opportunity for help.

I hope Sandusky will spend his remaining years repenting over his actions.

He probably does wish he were dead.

"Who Would Believe Kids?"

"Who would believe kids?"

I read those words in the newspaper as part of the testimony of a then-12-year-old boy who testified in the Jerry Sandusky sexual abuse trial.

Since then, I've pondered those words.

It's strange how it works with parents. We know those overly protective parents who believe anything their children say and become angry over the slightest injustice they suspect someone has done to their precious child.

It's the other kind of family that troubles me. "Who would believe kids?" That's the cry of a child in pain, a boy who knew he wouldn't be believed and didn't have an adult to stand up for him.

Why wouldn't he ask that question?

His words haunt me because it's a question I might have asked. It didn't occur to me to tell an adult—any adult. I didn't feel anyone cared enough so why would I consider telling? I felt totally alone.

I wonder how many molested kids have asked, "Who would believe kids?"

A Penn State Lesson for Parents: Don't Get Star Struck (Part 2 of 2)

This is from Diane Obbema, a 27-year veteran of law enforcement.

Parents can significantly reduce the threat of a pedophile victimizing their child. Involved parenting and healthy boundaries go a long way in running interference with a child molester’s game plan. Here are simple suggestions:

Be your child’s hero. Build a relationship of trust by being involved and accessible. Ask about your child’s day and really listen. Show genuine affection. Be quick to praise and slow to criticize. Enjoy each other.

Discuss appropriate and inappropriate touches. Let him know you want to be told if he ever feels uncomfortable with someone’s behavior. Assure your child you won't blame or be angry with him for another person’s actions. Say you will listen and help no matter what the situation.

Be leery of adults who show too much interest in your child. Don’t be star struck! A title doesn’t vouch for character. Healthy adults spend time with other adults--not alone with children. Keep to group activities with multiple adults supervising.

You don’t have to parent in fear. Just parent wisely.

Diane Obbema is a 27-year veteran of law enforcement. She resides in Colorado. Contact her at: dobbema@gmail.com.

A Penn State Lesson for Parents: Don’t Get Star Struck (Part 1 of 2)

This is from Diane Obbema, a 27-year veteran of law enforcement.

Reading the grand jury findings in the Penn State child abuse scandal made me think of a conversation I had years ago with “Hank," an intelligent, accomplished man, who did volunteer work. Hank was considered an upstanding man in the community.

Hank was also a pedophile.

I was a detective, specializing in child sex abuse cases, when a mother reported to our agency that Hank had placed his hand on her son’s thigh. It happened while Hank drove the boy home from a sporting event. It made the boy very uncomfortable.

The mom did not know Hank was a convicted child molester. Neither did the organizations where Hank volunteered. Long before sex registries existed, Hank had done his crime and done his time.

Hank openly acknowledged to me his prior conviction. Yes, he had molested two boys. “I’m a pedophile,” he said. But Hank maintained he learned a lot “back then” through sex-offender therapy. He assured me, he knew how to deal with his “urges.”

When I brought up the current boy Hank was “befriending,” Hank admitted he felt that old temptation when he placed his hand on the boy’s thigh. He resisted going further, which kept it non-criminal. "It was just a lapse of judgment.” In typical denial fashion, Hank stressed the purity of his motives in helping youth, and minimized the effect of his actions on this young boy.

Hank willingly answered my questions about how he thought back then. He shared how he selected his victims, won over the victims’ families, made his first sexual overtures, and dealt with victim resistance. All those things eerily mirrored the behavior documented in the grand jury’s report regarding former Penn State coach Jerry Sandusky.

Although Hank is a convicted child molester, Jerry is not. But the parallels between these men are worth highlighting as a warning to parents about the behaviors of pedophiles.

Pedophiles seek to be near children. Being a coach, teacher, religious leader, daycare worker, or volunteer increases the opportunity to select accessible victims. It also offers a cover of respectability.

Pedophiles endear themselves to their victims and victims’ parent by meeting a need. Offers of helping a stressed-out parent, providing a father figure, or treating a less-advantaged kid to gifts and events they could never otherwise have, all serve to gain parents’ trust and enable the molester to have alone-time with a child.

Pedophiles usually keep with a pattern that has proven successful for them in the past. They first test the water to see a child’s response to an invasive touch or situation. For some, it could be a hand on the thigh, groping during wrestling, sitting on one’s lap, or having back rubs. Should the child react negatively, or if someone inquires about it later, they explain them as a misunderstanding or honest mistake

Children exposed to such touches usually feel uncomfortable. They recognize it as a departure from the norm, or a violation of a private area. Confusion sets in because the child cares about the person who is making them uncomfortable.

Most children lack the confidence to challenge an adult. They are more likely to accept the perpetrator’s explanation for the touch and choose to discount their own internal warning signals.

Pedophiles bank on the child’s vulnerability to manipulation. As the sexual touching increases, a child feels deeper shame, often blaming himself. Often the child is told that no one will believe him if he tells and senses there is no way out.

Fear of rejection, or retaliation from the perpetrator, forces the child’s continued silence and insures a continual compliance. It’s no wonder that child victims delay disclosures of sexual abuse, sometimes for years.

Diane Obbema is a 27-year veteran of law enforcement. She resides in Colorado. Contact her at: dobbema@gmail.com.