"Would you like to hear the boy's statement?" my counselor asked not too long after the charges had been filed.
I said yes, and that answer changed my life.
What she read turned the charges into realities that I couldn't hide from. Realities that my husband could no longer say were "no big deal." The charges were a huge deal—two felony counts of child molestation.
The Truth Comes Out
The irrefutable truth started to reveal itself two weeks before that conversation with my counselor. I was teaching Sunday school, when my husband, Tom—a Bible teacher and deacon—was confronted by a suspicious mother who claimed that Tom had inappropriately touched one of the boys in our home fellowship.
That night the pastor came to our house to tell Tom he'd have to make an official incident report.
"Don't do this. You'll ruin my family," Tom pleaded.
I was in the other room trying not to listen, trying not to hear, trying not to know. But after our pastor left I asked Tom, "Did you do it?" I couldn't say, "Did you touch him?" or worse yet, "Did you fondle him?"
"Yes, but he was the one who came on to me," he answered.
I was stunned.
My Unwitting Action
I was already in counseling for problems with depression, so during my appointment with my counselor, I told her about Tom's confession. "I'm going to have to report this," she said. "I'm a mandatory reporter according to law."
I was horrified. I'd unwittingly betrayed my husband. How could I have done this? I loved him. The pain was overwhelming; my words had backfired.
When Tom found out, he called our friends Bill and Lynn who persuaded him to let me go home with them for a few days so I could regain my wits. Within the week, Bill and the pastor took Tom to the police station so he could turn himself in.
During my next appointment my counselor secured the child's official police statement and read it to me. I asked her to reread it. Then I had to read it for myself. I couldn't believe it was true, but it was. The boy wouldn't lie, and I knew it. This spiritual man I loved and respected was leading a double life. My husband had somehow become evil.
I knew I couldn't go back home. I couldn't see him. I couldn't be in the house with him, in a room with him, or share a bed with him. The core of my being was convulsing. Instead of going home I stayed with Bill and Lynn.
When I went to bed that night, I couldn't sleep. I got out of bed, fell to the floor shaking, sobbing, and curled into a fetal position. Helpless. Alone. Suffocating in ever intensifying darkness. Lynn found me and tried to console me. But finally she took me to the hospital. I had broken down. ...
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Posted By: Jen Fad
Sunday, July 24th 2011 at 9:45PM
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