Almost all details about the religious group to which Lisa Webb's family belonged were hidden from the outside world.
Its believers met in homes rather than churches. Its leadership system was difficult to understand, and its finances were opaque. It didn't even have an official name.
But for decades, no secret has been more closely guarded than the identities of the sex offenders in the group known as the “Two by Two.”
Now, a growing number of public accusations around the world are prompting a wide-ranging investigation by the FBI and shining an uncomfortable spotlight on a long-silent Christian sect.
Survivors say the group's leaders pressure victims to seek forgiveness, ignore legal reporting obligations, and move abusers to new locations to live with unsuspecting families. It is said that by deporting the children, they protected the pastors who had committed child abuse.
Department leaders publicly condemned the abuses, but some declined to answer questions from The Associated Press.
For Webb, who was sexually abused as a child by one of the group's pastors, the attention has provided an unexpected sense of “strength in numbers.”
“There are a lot of people who are frustrated and disappointed,” Webb said. “But there’s also a sense of camaraderie and support.”
websitea hotline and social media page set up by victims have documented allegations against more than 900 abusers, there are survivors in more than 30 countries, and cases continue to occur. Over the past year, news articles and Hulu documentaries have focused on the cult's predatory preachers and the leaders who enabled them.
Although perpetrators have been sentenced to prison in individual cases, the cult has largely avoided legal repercussions, protected by a decentralized structure, hidden finances, and state laws that limit the time limit for criminal prosecution.
The origin story of a secret cult
The sect, also known as “The Way” or “The Truth” to its followers, was founded in Ireland in 1897 by William Irvine, who vehemently criticized the existence of the church. The only way to spread Christianity, he argued, was to do what Jesus taught in the book of Matthew: to send apostles to live among the people they were converting. .
The sect grew as volunteer preachers, known as workers, lived in members' parents' homes “in pairs” for days or weeks at a time. Historians of the sect say it had up to several million members just a few decades ago, but current estimates put the figure at 75,000 to 85,000 worldwide. It is said that
Unlike the Boy Scouts and the Catholic Church, which have paid out billions of dollars to sexual abuse victims, the sect's aversion to property has left it with no apparent assets that could be used to pay settlements. legal experts say.
Workers are to shun worldly possessions and become dependent on believers for food, shelter, and transportation. But it also ensures that abusive workers have access to potential victims.
When Webb was 11 years old, he and his family were molested by a preacher in Michigan. The man, Peter Mousseau, expressed interest in visiting Ms Webb in 2008, and Mr Webb was convicted much later after he decided to press charges. A district superintendent who had previously reported abuse was later convicted of failing to report allegations of abuse against another local employee.
“You have this idea that they're angels in your home. They can't do anything wrong, so they don't have any walls,” she said. “It was just the perfect storm that created, the perfect recipe for this kind of behavior.”
the abuser lives inside the victim
When Sheri Autry had just turned 14, a 28-year-old worker moved into her family's home in Visalia, California, for two months.
He soon began abusing her, sneaking into her room at night and taking her for drives during the day. Every time the Hall & Oates song “Maneater” came on, he would turn up the radio and sing, “Watch out, she's gonna bite you.”
Years later, when Autry disclosed the abuse to her mother, she reported it to the sect's regional overseer, who oversees all workers in the area.
The director refused to warn other family members. Instead, he sent the employee back to Autry's house to apologize.
Autry, who was raised to be quiet, had an emotional outburst. Her family took her to the district attorney's office, but they declined to press charges.
“I'm going to have to give a clear explanation of what happened,” Autry said. “And I was completely unprepared for it.”
Decades later, Autry was at a baseball game when “Maneater” came on. She had to walk around the stadium to calm herself and decided to send a letter to hundreds of sect members about the abuse.
“I wanted other victims to know that she wasn't the only victim,” Autry said. “She needs to know there is help.”
More incidents of abuse occur
Americo Quispe, a worker from Peru, was sent to Garland, Texas, in the early 2000s after being accused of inappropriate behavior in his home country. He soon found a new victim, and some of his family members contacted the police. He returned to Peru before being arrested.
Quispe was later convicted of sexual abuse in Peru and sentenced to 30 years in prison. He has never been charged in Texas.
Another worker, Ruben Mata, abused dozens of boys, including 10-year-old Douglas Patterson, who was abducted from his family during a sectarian convention in the early 1990s. Patterson said he kept quiet about it because he feared that if he spoke, his family would leave the sect and be excluded from eternal salvation.
Mata was ultimately convicted in 2006 in a separate sexual abuse case. He died in a California prison.
Members told to keep abuse reports quiet
Months before Mata's trial, Saskatchewan Superintendent Dale Schultz sent two letters to his colleagues.
One of these was to be presented to the members concerned. Mata admitted to being a pedophile and that workers had been warned at least three times about his abuse. The church only contacted authorities after Mata resigned, the letter said.
The second one was for staff. The first letter said not to copy.
“The purpose of this letter is to help those who are concerned, not to promote Kingdom issues to those who do not know or do not have them,” Schultz wrote. .
In another case, Arizona Regional Superintendent Ed Alexander wrote a letter to an elder who was a child abuser in 2005, saying, “We love our people so much that we do not want to report their misdeeds.'' ” he said.
The letter suggests that sects can meet their abuse reporting obligations by recommending that offenders receive professional counseling, so that the counselor, rather than the sect's leader, reports to police. Because you will be obligated to do so.
“They believe that child sexual assault is just a sin. It's like you're a sinner, they're a sinner, it's all just a sin,” said Eileen Dickie, one of the male victims. Ta. She reported the abuse to sect leaders because she feared other children would be targeted.
“I was told never to talk about it,” she said.
Alexander would not speak to The Associated Press, instead texting: “Unfortunately, the media coverage has been so negative and one-sided that I have to decline the interview.''
Former minister speaks of a culture that downplays wrongdoings
Jared Snyder worked as an itinerant pastor for more than 20 years before becoming disillusioned and resigning. Snyder said no one told him directly about the abuse, but he heard rumors from time to time.
He said the cult's culture, which makes gossip taboo and puts enormous pressure on members to be merciful, means wrongdoing, big or small, is ignored.
“One director told me very clearly, 'The less you know, the better off you are,'” he says.
As a worker, Snyder received no paycheck, retirement or health benefits, and was discouraged from using a bank. But he wasn't without money: His followers regularly provided cash to workers, and Snyder said he often had thousands of dollars in his pockets.
Snyder said most of the money will be spent on building materials, food and other supplies for the regional convention.
Incidents that put sects under even stricter scrutiny
In June 2022, a regional director named Dean Brewer died in a motel room in Oregon. Since 1976, Mr. Brewer, 67, has been involved in at least 22 He served in seven states and territories and seven countries.
Nine months after Brewer's death, Doyle Smith, the head coach at Idaho and Oregon, wrote a letter to members. Evidence left on Brewer's cell phone and laptop shows he raped and abused multiple underage victims, Smith wrote.
“Dean was a sex offender,” Smith wrote. “We do not in any way respect or defend such completely inappropriate behavior. There is great unity among us that we have no choice but to be transparent with you for obvious reasons. There is a consensus, but this is very difficult.”
That transparency did not extend to its dealings with local police. It was only after fellow abuse victim Autry and private investigator Cynthia Lyles, both former members of the sect, pressured Smith to turn over Brewer's laptop to detectives, Autry said. told the Associated Press.
By then, the computer had been tampered with, according to records from the Clackamas County Sheriff's Office in Oregon. Your web browser search history has been cleared. Bruer's Apple ID had been changed and the files were being transferred from his DropBox account. Brewer's cell phone was never provided to police, and the Find My iPhone feature was disabled.
“What web browsing history exists on your laptop that you don't want others to know about?” Detective Jeffrey Burlew wrote in the police report. The police department was unable to find any evidence of a crime within its jurisdiction and closed the investigation.
Smith did not respond to a phone message from The Associated Press.
Survivors and law enforcement dig deeper
Autry and others had been seeking reform of the sect for many years, but Bruer's death served as an impetus. Autry, Lyles and another survivor have set up a hotline, website and Facebook page for survivors.
In February, the FBI's field office in Omaha, Nebraska, announced a study.
The outcry prompted some sect leaders to denounce the abuses and seek advice from consultants on how to better protect their members. But at least some district superintendents ultimately refused to adopt the recommended child abuse prevention policies, citing the New Testament as the only true code of conduct.
And some leaders still warn members not to criticize the cult.
At a convention held in August in Duncan, British Columbia, officials who help lead the convention did not directly address the abuse scandal but told members to put aside “name-calling.”
“It's easier to be critical than to be right,'' said Australian worker Robert Dokke. “Feeding on problems only creates more problems, but focusing on the Lord brings solutions.”
