Topics: A Victim’s Statement to the Court

Your honor: I stand here today to tell you how the accused hurt me, abused me, exploited me for his own gratification, and to describe to you what his actions have done to my life.

Regardless of how he has rationalized and justified his sick behavior, this was no affair.  This was abuse of the most base kind: This was abuse of a therapist’s powerful position over someone wounded and at risk. He abused his responsibility to protect the psychologically vulnerable and to above all “do no harm.”

He complains that he is the victim here, saying on the stand that this hurt him. How exactly was he hurt?  When he was abusing me, it wasn’t hurting him at all.  He was getting sex, money, power, control, an ego boost, and someone to take care of him and fix him and try to make him “all better.” He was not hurting at all as he lay on the therapy couch in his office, without his clothes on, while I listened to his problems.  How sick. How insane. But, I do believe he is hurting now, not because of what he did but because he got caught, because someone had the courage to stand up to him and call him out on what he did.

I don’t know which is worse, what he did or the pathetic and desperate attempt he made to defend his behavior. There is no defense for his actions.  There is no excuse. There are no “two sides” to this story. There is only one unethical and negligent and destructive “professional” responsible for this. We were not “equals.” We had a totally imbalanced relationship: My consent to what took place was impossible.

When I met him, I was in my weakest and most vulnerable state. I had relapsed badly from earlier trauma and was very ill.  I sought counseling because I was very sick, damaged, and looking for help.  I am a sexual abuse survivor, an alcoholic, a bulimic, and a child of an addict. I grew up in chaos and dysfunction. He knew all of these things about me, all of my pain, and all of my darkest deepest secrets.  He is a “professional” with over 20 years of experience who knows the mind of an addict and who knew better than to do what he did. 

I did not “lure” him.  He lured me with his seductive, sick, twisted, perverse, illegal, and unethical behavior. Nobody lured him to the bank with the checks he was receiving from me after abusing me during my sessions.  That was my money: The money I asked for him to give back was mine and not his.  He did not earn that money.

While I was being abused, I tried to stop him. I went to him and said that I was like his daughter. He showed zero emotion. I told him that I was scared, that I felt, as usual, that I was taking care of everyone, and no one was protecting me or helping me. It didn’t phase him. Why didn’t he stop at that point? How could he not know that what he was doing would damage me in a life altering way?

I wanted to make him proud of me. I wanted to fix his pain. I did what I thought would gain his approval and please him. My heart broke at the abusive childhood he told me he had to endure. He knew that I had a problem with feeling like it was my job to fix and take care of wounded men, men like my father. Instead of treating my problem, he chose to exploit it. I know now that it was never my job to fix him, yet he chose to make the focus of my “therapy” about him.

I have been hurt beyond comprehension by his violations.  Every problem I went to him for got worse. I became emotionally violent, full of rage, depressed, anxiety-ridden, and self destructive in a way more extreme than any of my past addictive behaviors. I hated the person I had become. I did things I still can’t explain. I was so confused and filled with self-hatred. I can’t believe that I trusted him and confided in him. He was the first person I told about my rape

I hit bottom after I ended his abuse of me.  I ended up in the ER with a 0.324 blood alcohol level. My husband and son carried me into the hospital where I lay in a pool of my own blood, vomit and urine in front of a packed waiting room of people, my four-year-old boy looking at me with fear in his eyes, wondering if his mommy would be okay. 

I was humiliated and in pain over what he did and his complete lack of remorse. As they put me on IVs, it was his name that I said over and over as I went in and out of consciousness while my chin was being sewn up with a dozen stitches. The doctor handed my husband AA pamphlets. The pain he caused me pushed me to near suicide.  Behind my smile was a little girl with a lot of pain and hurt, feeling worthless and betrayed over what he did.

I am not saying I am not responsible for my actions. I am far from perfect. I am an addict who fights her demons every day and whose self-destructive actions and rage have hurt many people. I cannot and will not go through life blaming this abusive therapist for my actions.  But I am not responsible for what he did to me. Not even a little bit. I stand here today knowing the truth, knowing I did nothing to provoke or cause this. He is the one who has hurt so many people. He cared only for himself. He failed me.

He never tried to offer help after I confronted him and when he knew I had started drinking again. He was concerned only about himself, telling me all the ways it was going to screw up his life if I told.

The day I confronted him was the most empowering day of my life.  I ended it. I was the one who terminated the relationship, not him, not the professional with all of the addiction expertise and experience. I had to end it because he never wanted it to end. I ended this not because I was a woman scorned or a vindictive person and not because I wanted his money. I ended it because what he did was and is wrong and dangerous and horrible and abusive. 

I am here today because I have fought for me, the person this abuser had forgotten about because everything was about him. I finally know that I am worth fighting for and defending. My life, regardless of how he or anyone else views it, matters. I matter. 

Katie

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