Many of you currently posting on the public forums may not know me as I've kept mostly to the member's side for a while now. I however felt that the confrontation I just had with my perp might serve as some sort of light or encouragement to others in their struggle that I felt I should post it over here as well. I'm not suggesting that this is for everyone to do at all, but in the sense of taking back my "self" from my abuser which is something we all need to find a way to do.
A short version of my story is here in the members side... my story- short version on public side
So this is now my report on my confrontation with my perp. It took place Easter Sunday at his church.
I noticed in my calendar a few weeks ago that I would have some free time over Easter weekend, and I decided that it was too perfect of a date to let pass up to go back to my hometown and confront my perp.
Here’s the thing…my perp was and is a minister of music at a church. I decided some time ago, that I would confront him in some way and that it would be at his church. It would be a place I could reasonably count on him being at a certain time in advance, without him knowing I would be there and it provided the safety of being in public, he couldn’t just toss me out like if I came to his door.
I also very much wanted to have what I hoped would be an intense experience for him in the very place where he feigns his holiness and piety along with his enlightened perfection bullshit role to the max. My wife later on pointed out to me that in her opinion I created a trigger for him…I hadn’t thought of it that way, but she’s absolutely right. That’s precisely what I was consciously doing, but without realizing what I was doing…if you know what I mean.
My plan you will see below was simple. In a way, I had very low expectations…I merely wanted to stand in front of him without fear and intimidation. I also wanted to make a case, an airtight case to him that he really was a child molester. I decided that HIS arguments weren’t the arguments I was going to discuss. So, it became clear to me, that this was going to have to take the form of a few simple but clear words to him and giving him a letter which I would have to be certain he would read, BUT without any contact from him to confirm that he had read it. The idea of contact from him is unacceptable to me. Of course I can’t really know whether he would read it, but in my mind I set it up in such a way that he would simply have to know what it said. I did have concern over whether he would take a letter. I tried to imagine plans and different lines to use which would induce him to take it. I’m good with that level of certainty.
If any of you who don't have access to the member's side would like to see the letter, I"ll be glad to PM it to you. It just dispassionately lays out the simple case that having sex with a child of 13, 14, 15 etc. is wrong for an adult to do and makes them a child molester. Period. I didn't get into recriminations about what terrible things he did to me or my life. I could imagine his have enjoyed that part way too much for having hurt him so deeply!!!
On Saturday April 3rd my wife and I arrive in my hometown at about 3:30 in the afternoon. We go straight to the hotel to check in and begin our drive-about reconnaissance to the church and general tour of my hometown to get me in the mood.
On Sunday I’m up at 6:15 drinking coffee thinking through a few possible scenarios and worked my reactions to them to try and make them second nature…like selecting a file depending on criteria. I tried to think of ones I hadn’t already thought of. We had breakfast, got ready and drove to church. My wife gave me a really beautiful note to read when she stepped out of the car…it really gave a great last minute jolt to my determination.
We get to the church and without too much attention being made to us newcomers, we get a seat on the side near the back of the church.
About 3 minutes before it is to begin he comes in. That first sight of him again was …well, fuck I don’t even know what it was. I never looked at him before with the freedom to just feel what I really felt about him I guess is how I would say it. It was revulsion, hatred, anger, and a thousand other such feelings combined with a fear that was no longer present in the same way, but there nevertheless there. I could be misreading the general adrenaline rush but I kinda think not. Even though I wasn’t scared of anything, I was afraid of him because that’s how I was supposed to be. He set up an entire construct whereby I was to be afraid of him or my world would be finished. It of course wasn’t that obvious. Anyway, all of these feelings were all surprisingly familiar. It is striking to me how that terribly uneasy feeling in my stomach, which was nearly impossible to deal with during the service, was such a constant feature during those years. Talk about not remembering the stuff that hurts the most. I put on a good show back then. He is entering to go do his thing…on show…on display…it’s Easter everyone! If I had needed further confirmation that this man had traumatized and abused me, it was the way I felt right then. This wasn’t something normal, not even normal bad feelings about someone…no way man, this was the fucking boogey man come to life. I haven’t really gotten into trying to analyze the feelings yet at all, but that was weird…even in and among weird things.
So it begins.
The usual Easter Sunday service with lots of music. Each note he played was nauseating. For the communion particularly he played this slow hypnotic kind of music that just got under your skin and made you want to pull your insides out because it hurt so much. It couldn’t be over quickly enough. The loud music when he would let it rip was like having a dagger rammed into your gut with each accent. This wasn’t fun.
So fine, just as expected he is playing a big postlude finish to the whole Easter Sunday Service. As soon as he finishes, and is saying something to the a violinist who had played some solos during the service, I make a firm and fast move up to the alter.
Now the organ in this church is placed in the middle of the alter with the choir loft. The back of the organist is to the congregation while playing. There is a typical pew height wooded railing separating the alter from the organ and choir loft. He has just hopped off the organ bench when I reach the center of the alter and the railing.
“******(his name)” I say forcefully but not very loudly. At this point my version of his reactions are subjective of course. What I first register is abject fear and terror the moment he looks at me…I should point out that I have the letter in my outstretched hand at this point. I decided I didn’t want to reach into my pocket while talking and had gone up to him basically thrusting the envelope at him. He without hesitation in his obvious discomfort takes the letter from me with shaky hands and with sweat beginning to form on head and upper lip. He is trying however to hold it together of course. “Yes” he replies as I’m handing it to him. I tell him “this is a very important thing for you to read…it’s important for your future”. He says very docile, “should I read it now?” At this point I had the flash of feeling that the man in front of me expected to be performing his last free act before handcuffs were put on him. OK… maybe that’s a little melodramatic, but that is what came into my mind. The way he asked it, the way he was shaking and sweating gave me a really visceral sense that this guy felt like the game was up. Obviously, I have no clue what he was really thinking. “You can decide that for yourself” is my answer.
I continue with “****, what you did was wrong”. A concerned look of puzzlement on his face, tilting of head, a little leaning forward as if to say, I have no idea what you’re talking about…I get the idea suddenly he means to even play it as if he doesn’t know who I am let alone know what I’m talking about. There are many easy ways to find pictures of me on the web, so I feel sure he has looked me up since the web has been a common thing.
I say “you know what I’m talking about…don’t you know who I am? I’m ***** ******, you know who I am. Picture me at 13 on my knees”.
For those who don't know my story or have access to the member's side where it is posted in full, this is a nearly 7 year sexual and mental abuse situation which took place for me between the ages of 13 to 20. It included near the end, his buying a house for which I gave him the down payment after my father passed away when I was 18 as well as many, many other significant events. I wasn't some anonymous kid he screwed on moved on from.
I should say at this point I have been speaking very quietly so that anyone not directly within 3 feet of us would have difficulty hearing. I’ve been aware of the violinist who is still sitting right near the organ looking at me the whole time. Now, if I had been in her place, I woulda found something really interesting to look at, but no, the bitch is just “trying” to stare daggers through me. My deflector shields weren’t even touched let alone their efficiency impaired by the likes of her. As a matter of fact, I was running with shields down I felt so confident by this point.
She was a friend of his and as he once told me, they bonded over the “difficulty of having this wonderful secret of having a beautiful relationship that you couldn’t tell the world about”. Hers was with another woman who was another professional musician at the time while his was with me…I was 15. I guess she didn’t have a problem with it. In other words, I knew her.
So after delivering my “picture me at 13 on my knees line” I turn my head to her fix her with a look and say “*****(her name) knows me, don’t you *****”. So back to my perp…he goes “well thank you”…so that anyone within earshot would not think anything amiss and hopefully get me out of there. He actually puts out his fucking hand for me to shake…the one not holding the envelope…what an SOB! I just look down at his hand as if it were fecal matter, point to it and say “under no circumstances, under no circumstances whatsoever”. Turn around march down the alter join my wife who is standing at the side and we purposefully leave the church.
We get in the car and drive to brunch. It was exactly what I was hoping for and then some. I’ll look at that that with a little hindsight soon.
In the meantime, please feel free to comment or ask questions as you like. Please don't feel like this isn't something to discuss...I hope those who are contemplating confrontation can use what I did to help them in their own process somehow...certainly not by using mine as an example to be followed but as jumping off point for your own discussions.
Thank each and every one of you from the bottom of my heart... all of you have helped me get to this point and I thank you. I wish I could send this to all of the guys who have shared this road of the past 9 months with me, but have moved on from MS...so many come to mind, but maybe they'll come back here sometime and see what sono was up to.
all the best gentlemen,