Child sex abuse survivors say institutions that employed predators betrayed them too

As North Carolina slipped into the first day of 2020, a new law opened what were once locked courthouse doors to people who endured sexual abuse at church, school or anywhere while growing up in North Carolina.

Hundreds of childhood sex abuse survivors seized the opportunity and filed civil lawsuits filled with tragic stories of religious leaders, coaches and club volunteers grooming, groping or raping them.

Many accused organizations that should have protected them of turning a blind eye or, worse, trying to keep reports of abuse hidden.

There is a term for that behavior. It’s called institutional betrayal and it can often exacerbate harm for those who have suffered abuse, said Jennifer Freyd, a psychologist and a researcher who created the institutional betrayal theory.

The lawsuits, made possible due to the SAFE Child Act opening a two-year window allowing previously barred claims, exposed many such betrayals in North Carolina, said Skye David, an attorney for the North Carolina Coalition Against Sexual Assault.

“Many people have failed these child survivors of abuse, with layers of cover-up, and it impacted all corners of the state,” David said in an email.

Despite a legal limbo for many cases caused by constitutional challenges to the SAFE Child Act, the legislation improved the environment for children across the state, attorneys and experts say. It’s led to publicity on patterns of abuse, settlements with plaintiffs and conversations about mandatory reporting and best practices, they say.

“Knowing that not reporting is a crime should be enough to make institutions change, and I hope that it is affecting that change,” David wrote.

The more than 250 lawsuits make plain what institutions should look for to protect children, such as employees or volunteers spending too much time with children or taking them home, said Bobby Jenkins, a Greensboro attorney who represents some SAFE Child Act plaintiffs.

It puts the onus on institutions to be more diligent, Jenkins said.

About the SAFE Child Act

In 2019, the General Assembly unanimously passed landmark legislation that sought to recognize challenges that young sex abuse victims face in coming forward quickly enough to not be shot down by statute of limitations.

The law, which followed a national trend of recognizing delayed child-abuse reporting, temporarily allowed victims of child sexual abuse here to file civil lawsuits against abusers and institutions that enabled them. The lawsuits could be filed regardless of how long ago the assaults occurred.

The SAFE Child Act also made permanent changes. It extended the deadline by when people can file claims, from age 21 to age 28. It also allowed civil lawsuits filed within two years of a criminal conviction for a felony sexual offense against someone under the age of 18.

From Jan. 1 2020 to Dec. 31, 2021, hundreds of people filed and joined lawsuits. Defendants included churches, camps, schools and many more organizations that employed people who plaintiffs accused of abusing children and teens, trauma that can send some down a path of depression and drug abuse.

Many of those suits are in legal limbo due to legal challenges against allowing individuals to file lawsuits that were previously barred by the statute of limitations. Arguments for and against will are scheduled to be heard before the North Carolina Supreme Court on Sept. 18.

Even if many get struck down, they will have a lasting impact, say supporters of the law.

For one, the stories of abuse in the 250 cases filed support research finding it can take people decades to understand they were abused, Jenkins said.

There were more lessons, said state Attorney General Josh Stein, whose office drafted and has defended the law.

“We learned that too often, the unthinkable happens in the places we thought our children would be safe,” Stein said in a statement.

Critics of SAFE Child Act

Critics of the law, including defendants challenging lawsuits, say the legislation doesn’t remedy a wrong. Instead it harms organizations trying to help children today and floods courts with emotionally charged, decades-old claims.

“However well-intentioned the Legislature may have been, the attempt to revive long-barred claims plainly violates the North Carolina Constitution and would have devastating effects on the people and organizations in this state,” Elizabeth Troutman, an attorney representing the Gaston County Board of Education, wrote in a court filing.

That board is facing a SAFE Child Act lawsuit contending school officials didn’t take action to stop a wrestling coach from physically and sexually assaulting players in the 1990s and 2000s. And it is among the organizations challenging boththe law and naming organizations as plaintiffs in lawsuits.

What is institutional betrayal?

Institutional betrayal occurs when an organization harms those dependent on it, said Freyd, who founded the nonprofit Center for Institutional Courage. This can be explicit harm, such as a government ordering genocide. But it often takes the form of a failure to protect or respond well when there has been some sort of abuse at an institution.

In many cases, victims may be unable to grapple with the trauma until years later, Freyd said, describing what she calls “betrayal blindness.”

The antidote is institutional courage, in which institutions pledge to protect those who depend on them, “despite unpleasantness, risk and short-term costs,” according to Freyd’s research at the Center for Institutional Courage, which studies institutional betrayal and related solutions.

State laws and policies can hold institutions accountable, but they could also reward organizations when they take proactive steps to prevent problematic behaviors, Freyd said.

Many organizations have made changes to better protect children.

The Catholic Diocese of Charlotte started protective protocols and practices more than 20 years ago to prevent child abuse and increase accountability, according to Liz Chandler, a diocese spokesperson.

Those practices include establishing mandatory training for all clergy, a reporting hotline and annual compliance audits, she wrote in an emailed response to questions.

Virginia Bridges covers criminal justice in the Triangle and across North Carolina for The News & Observer. Her work is produced with financial support from the nonprofit The Just Trust. The N&O maintains full editorial control of its journalism.

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