Updated July 13, 2013

I’ve added more to this post, so if you have read it, you may want to reread.
(If you are new to this blog, you may want to read the posts “In a Nutshell” or go to July and read “Sending out a Letter.” Both of these posts give a brief description of what happened. As Emma’s mom, I am blogging my experiences with Emma and the things she did/does. This is a child who made up a story about rape, accused a priest of molesting her, and then as her attorney was about to file a lawsuit against the priest and the church, Emma accused her mother of physical abuse to stop the lawsuit because she knew her lies were about to be discovered. Emma is now living in Ohio with her some of her boyfriend’s family and talking about getting married to Tyler Buchheim, an architecture student at Notre Dame.)
Chapter 3

Emma Accuses a Priest

Up to 10% of child abuse claims turn out to be false.
 

On her Dad’s 52^nd birthday, Sunday, March 21, 2010, Emma told us she’d been molested. 

Sundays were usually a family/church day.  We went to church and Sunday school in the mornings, and then took Emma back to church for her youth group in the evenings.  Emma had been the secretary to the youth group, and enjoyed the position.  Maybe it was her need for control, but Emma liked knowing what was going on with everyone and keeping tabs on who was coming to what.  The only complaint I heard about her was from a couple of adults who mentioned that Emma was a little pushy and somewhat rude in some of her e-mails, being a little bit ugly when people did not respond to her requests for head counts and such.  I tried to discuss this with Emma, occasionally proof read her e-mails and point out that she needed to be a little more polite in her writing, but of course this did not go over well. 

I don’t really remember what we did on that day.  I think it was a quiet day, and it may have been the year that I’d found a recipe for brussell sprout stuffed meatballs, which sounded like something Phill would love, and I spent the afternoon cooking.  Emma went to her youth group, and Phill picked her up and brought her home. 

That night, I was sitting in bed, reading, when Phill came in and said Emma had something to tell us.  Emma hemmed and hawed about wanting to tell us, but not wanting to tell us, and finally said she had been molested by someone at church.  Again, Emma went back and forth about telling us and not wanting to tell us who it was.  My mind seemed to be going about a million miles an hour.  I could not see how it could happen.  Emma was never more than a few minutes away from me.  If I didn’t know where she was or who she was with, I went to check on her.  When she served as an acolyte, I would go downstairs to the Parish Hall after church, and if Emma didn’t show up within a few minutes, I would go back upstairs to check on her.  I couldn’t understand how Emma could have been molested.  I couldn’t think of anyone who would have had access to Emma long enough to molest her.   Phill had suspected a gentleman who trained the acolytes.  That was something I could not see because when the acolytes were training, they were always in a group.

I got upset and kept asking Emma, “Who?………Who molested you?”  and told Emma to answer me.  Finally, Emma cried and said, “He Baptized my dad!”  Phill and I knew immediately whom she was referring to.  Phill was baptized by an interim priest who served at our church for one year.  This gentleman was retired and worked as a supply priest, filling in for different parishes and had agreed to serve at our church the year our priest left and the church was in the long process of looking for a new priest.
To file a complaint with the church, we had to write up a statement. Emma was reluctant to do this, and I had to push her to get it done. She and I wrote up her statement, and here is an excerpt of her description of what happened:
The first time it happened was after I had taken off my vestments and went across the hall to the ladies’ room. I was wearing shoes with a strap, and they were a bit too big for me. The strap kept falling down, so I stopped, just inside the doorway, to fix it. He walked in behind me, closed and locked the door. I didn’t know what was going to happen, but I knew something was wrong. I was really scared. I backed up against the wall. I could see he was saying something because his lips were moving, but I think I was scared and shocked and didn’t really hear what he said. I couldn’t move. I just stood there and watched him. He was still talking, and he looked angry. I started to cry, and I closed my eyes. I could feel him lift up my dress and pull down my panties. He stuck his fingers inside me. I kept crying. I don’t know how long it lasted. It seemed like a long time, but it wasn’t. Afterwards, I was starting to process a little of what was happening. He told me he was going to baptize my dad, which I already knew, and he told me that if I told my family about this it would break my dad’s faith and tear my family apart. He washed his hands, then he went out of the restroom and closed the door behind him. I stood there crying for a few minutes, then I dried my face and went downstairs. I was very careful about how I acted; I believed what he said about my family, and I wanted so much for my dad to be baptized. So I acted like nothing had happened, and I didn’t tell anyone.

It happened four times after that. The only difference was that after the first time, it always happened in the sacristy. He would shut the door and do the same thing. And he always told me that if I told anyone, I would break my dad’s new faith. The times were about a month apart, until he left the church. Occasionally I would get unrobed and downstairs fast enough that he didn’t have a chance, so it didn’t happen every time I served.

Some side notes:

Does it seem a little odd that Emma claimed her friend had been raped on her birthday, just a few months before, and then announces her own story of molestation on her dad’s birthday? 

There was one other thing that was odd that night.  Several months before, Emma had overheard something and had been carrying it around, ruminating on it, and possibly, like on many other occasions, I believe Emma may have taken something she heard and made the story about herself.    Emma heard something about a case of molestation, and months later, Emma had to be the victim of molestation.  Did she really believe she was molested?  Did she need to top the story she’d heard?  Several people have mentioned to me that Emma may be a pathological liar.    Some of the characteristics of a pathological liar seem to suit Emma:

1.       The stories told are not entirely improbable and often have some element of truth.

2.       The stories told tend toward presenting the liar favorably. For example, the person might be presented as being fantastically brave, knowing or being related to many famous people.

Another interesting point about pathological liars is that the average age of onset it 16 years old, the age Emma was when she told us she was molested.

Looking back on Emma’s lies, there was usually some element of truth to her stories.  For example, she talked about drug parties at school after reading about the drug parties in the Reader’s Digest. 

Emma told a story about having to call 911 on a boy she was babysitting, and that she had to lock herself in the bathroom, although she never babysat that child, BUT she had heard about the parents having to call 911 on their son.  This lie also put Emma in a favorable light, showing how brave she was.

Emma told stories about her friends on the school bus.  According to Emma, the four girls she rode the bus with all drank, and/or smoked, and/or did drugs, and/or were having sex, etc. 

I have many more lies to share, but you can see a pattern of 1) some element of truth and 2) Emma portrayed as favorable in her stories.

I’m not trying to diagnose Emma.  I am just a mom, and will share from a mother’s perspective.  After so many people mentioned their own thoughts to me, I had to look up and read about pathological lying, and I can see why people would think that about Emma.

(If you are new to this blog, you may want to read the posts “In a Nutshell” or go to July and read “Sending out a Letter.” Both of these posts give a brief description of what happened. As Emma’s mom, I blogging my experiences with Emma and the things she did/does. This is a child who made up a story about rape, accused a priest of molesting her, and then as her attorney was about to file a lawsuit against the priest and the church, Emma accused her mother of physical abuse to stop the lawsuit because she knew her lies were about to be discovered. Emma is now attending Piedmont college in Demorest, Ga. She has been telling people she is engaged to Tyler Buchheim, an architecture student at Notre Dame University. Emma does not care who she hurts to get what she wants, and I hope Emma gets some help before she gets married.)

I have a stack of letters that Emma wrote to her friend “Lacey”, the on-line friend that Emma called her “best friend” whom she had never actually met in person and who Emma claimed was raped and tried to commit suicide. This young lady was kind enough to turn over all the documents from Emma. I will be posting these documents on the blog at a later date.
In one of the e-mails, Emma mentioned her need for being in control. This is almost ironic, as Emma called her mother a “control freak” and claimed I “micro-managed” her life. Part of the reason Emma turned so viciously on her mother was because by getting rid of her, Emma gained complete control. Her dad was on the road for several days a week, and what more could a teenage girl want than to be in control of the family home by getting mom out of the way and with dad being on the road? Dad had the purse strings, so she couldn’t get rid of him completely, but Emma could use him to her full advantage by getting rid of mom. It’s also ironic that Emma is thinking so much about marriage after she destroyed her parents marriage with her lies. But then, she got away with accusing an innocent man of sexually abusing her, so what’s a divorce in the grand scheme of things?

One of the things Emma took control over was her education. Emma went to Jackson County Comprehensive High School for 9th grade. At first she loved the school and the freedom, but then hated the school, exaggerated stories about drinking, drugs, sex, pregnancy, claimed that African American kids got preferential treatment, told stories about cross dressers, and claimed that her drama group was full of lesbians. She ended up throwing up so much, that we took her out during the 2nd semester, and she finished school on line. We decided to let her continue with on line school for 10th grade, and that was when she made up the rape and molestation stories. Emma never made any friends as JCCHS, and then after the molestation story, Emma became even more isolated, not attending church, youth group, etc., so we decided to put her in Jefferson High School for 11th grade. Again, Emma hated public school, and hated me for putting her there. When I would pick Emma up from school, I always had to wait for her, so if the weather was nice, I would put the windows down in the car. When Emma got into the car, she would not speak until either I put the windows up or we were out of earshot of the other kids whom she called, “The Creepers.” Emma wanted to start college early, but after I she pulled her little DFACS stunt, I told her that would not be happening and that she would be finishing 12th grade at Jefferson High School. Emma knew, by getting rid of her mother, she would be able to get out of the school she hated so much. She was able to start college, and her dad even got her a car (one of two that she totaled, I was told later). Emma was in full control. I will go into more detail about our experience with Jefferson High School (Jefferson, Ga.) later.

Stay tuned for Chapter Three which will be the story of Emma Accusing the Priest of Molesting Her, and I am also about to start an essay about Emma Getting Married. Below is a picture of Emma next to a cabinet that Phill got me for my 50th birthday. Emma was jealous of the money Phill spent on me and griped that I did not need and did not deserve the cabinet.

Emma, A GCU student! (Emma Roey, Emma Katherine Roey, Emma Kate Roey, Sophie Buchheim)
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(If you are new to this blog, you may want to read the posts “In a Nutshell” or go to July and read “Sending out a Letter.” Both of these posts give a brief description of what happened. As Emma’s mom, I blogging my experiences with Emma and the things she did/does. This is a child who made up a story about rape, accused a priest of molesting her, and then as her attorney was about to file a lawsuit against the priest and the church, Emma accused her mother of physical abuse to stop the lawsuit because she knew her lies were about to be discovered. Emma is now attending Piedmont college in Demorest, Ga. She has been telling people she is engaged to a boy she met on line, Tyler Buchheim, an architecture student at Notre Dame University, originally from Liberty Township, Ohio.)

Emma Turns on her Dad

Around the time Emma came up with the rape story, we were having problems with Emma at home. She did what I considered the typical teenage things, treating Phill and I like we just weren’t cool, weren’t “with it,” we were an embarrassment to her, etc. Emma did this more so to her dad than to me, usually trying to make me an ally when she made fun of her dad. He was a “dork” a “nerd” a “geek” and I would remind her how handy it was to have a geeky father who could do just about anything with the computer that she liked to use so much. I let her get away with some of her talk because I did think she was a normal teenager, but I put my foot down when she went too far. Emma would speak poorly of her dad for not finishing college and for being a truck driver, saying things like, “All he does is sit on his butt in a truck all day.” Phill may not have a college education, but I always thought he was one of the smartest people I knew.
I would tell Emma that I would not listen to her speak that way about her dad. I reminded her that her dad made a good living, we had a nice home, and because he worked so hard (Granted, I was working when we bought the house, so I should get a little credit too.), I got to stay home with her, drive her to all her activities, and homeschool her.
Sometimes Phill was really hurt by the way Emma treated him, and he was a little envious of my relationship with Emma. We could argue like cats and dogs, but I was the one she wanted to talk to, cuddle with, seek comfort from when she was upset, etc.

Emma became much more vicious to her dad. She would hug me and make a point of not hugging him, and then give this little smirk like she was pleased with herself. She would say, “I love you, mom.” emphasizing the “mom” in front of Phill and act like he wasn’t even in the room. Sometimes, you could tell by her tone that she was trying to make it obvious that she was saying it to me and not him. Other times, she would come into our bedroom to say goodnight to me, and again, ignore Phill completely unless one of us said something to her about her rudeness.
When Phill was on the road, I tried to talk to Emma. I knew Phill was upset by the way Emma treated him, and it hurt me to see Emma treat her dad this way. He did nothing to deserve her rudeness and her wrath.
Emma and I got in many arguments when I did try to talk to her about the way she treated her dad. She said some horrible things about him. She told me she just didn’t like him and that she didn’t like him touching her or hugging her. This bothered me because we had always been what I would call a very touchy, huggy family. Emma probably hugged me 15 times a day. If I was in the kitchen and she walked through, she would stop and throw her arms around me. When we watched television, Emma would lean against me, snuggle up to me, or hold my hand. When Phill was working, she still wanted to have a “slumber” and we would usually watch some tv or a movie in our bedroom, and Emma would sleep in the bed with me.
Then Emma said something pretty bizarre. She told me that her dad called her a “bitch” and a “slut” every day. I was shocked and argued vehemently with her over this. I knew it wasn’t true and was not going to tolerate her saying such a thing.
There was one time when Emma was teasing Phill, and he was joking back with her and imitated Gilda Radner and said, “Bitch” in a high pitched voice, and then we talked about Saturday Night Live and he went on line and showed her some of the old SNL skits so that she could see the character he was referring to, and Emma knew it was a joke.
Emma continued to argue with me several times over her “bitch” and “slut” comment, and she told me that she had talked about it with her on-line friend, ”Lacey”, and her other “best” friend, Kayla Benefield, a girl Emma had met at church camp several years before, but only saw once or twice a year at most.
I was pretty angry that Emma would say these things to other people when I knew it wasn’t true.

Looking back at the way Emma was turning on her dad, I wonder if she was going to accuse her dad of abuse, but she knew she couldn’t get away with it with me, so that’s how she came up with the priest story. I defended and stood up for Phill when Emma turned on him. It’s a shame he couldn’t return the favor when I needed him to be there for me. I wonder how he would have reacted had he been the one falsely accused.

IN A NUTSHELL

On her 16th birthday, my beautiful daughter, Emma, did something horrible. She made up a story, claiming that a friend of hers was raped. I’m not sure why she made up the story. At the time, she liked a boy at our church who had liked her for a while, but had moved on. She was at her church youth group when she told the story. Perhaps it was for attention, since she wasn’t getting the attention she wanted. A few months later, on her dad’s birthday, Emma confessed to her dad and I that she had been molested by a priest when she was 12, and claimed that the rape of her friend brought up repressed memories of what had happened . I’m not sure why Emma made up another bizarre story at this time. She was still in love with the boy who had lost interest in her, and who seemed to be paying attention to another young lady at our church. Or, could it be because Emma was failing a physics class? Everything came to a grinding halt, and because Emma was so upset and traumatized by her repressed memories, we let her drop the class, so she didn’t have to live with a failing grade, or had she been able to pass, she would have had a barely passing grade. Emma prided herself in being a good student and never wanted anything below a “B” on her record. Being a horrible mom, I chose to believe my daughter. My first instinct was suspicion, and I said to my husband, “Do you believe her?” He replied, “Don’t you?” making me feel like the worst mother in the world to question what my daughter had told us, so I chose to believe her. I couldn’t turn back and have my daughter think her own mother doubted her, so that was that. Again, being a horrible mother, I wanted the man who hurt my daughter punished. I listened to Emma tell her story over and over again to the police, DFACS, church officials, etc. While her story still bothered me, I chose to ignore my intuition, and never questioned Emma. (Kind of ironic that some time later, a friend gave the Meyer’s Briggs test which showed I don’t trust my own intuition. Instead of trusting my gut instinct, I’ve always tried to reason things out, or find a way to explain something that I knew wasn’t right.) When I felt the church did not handle our complaint about the priest properly, and later sent a church attorney, a rather nasty woman, to interview Emma, eventually, we talked to an attorney who wanted to take Emma’s case. This was a pretty big Atlanta attorney who takes about 1 out of 1000 cases, and Emma was so convincing when he interviewed us that he wanted to represent her. He told us he would investigate and we would sue the church, the diocese, and the priest himself. About a week before Emma’s 17th birthday, I had let her know that her attorney would be filing the lawsuit. Two days after Emma’s birthday, she had someone call the police to say that her mother physically abused her. When DFACS came to our home, she gave them three dates that I supposedly shoved, pushed, or shook her. Interestingly enough, one of these dates was her 17th birthday, when her dad had been home with us all day. Because I don’t have the time or the inclination to sit down and write a book, I will be writing a series of essays about the whole experience and sharing them on this blog. Why did Emma do what she did? Why would she want to destroy her own family? Emma was backed into a corner. She knew the attorney was going to have to talk to her friend that had been “raped” and then she would be exposed as a liar. Some of the other answers are about Emma’s need for control, and the fact that she wanted out of public school. Emma chose to sacrifice her mother rather than admit what she’d done. She knew her mother loved her no matter what she did. Later on, when she continued with the lies, Emma knew that her mother was on to her, and that her mother suspected there was no molestation. Emma couldn’t have someone around who didn’t fall for her stories around. It’s kind of ironic now that Emma is “engaged” and dreaming of rings, weddings, and beautiful dresses. Does she know she increased the odds of her marriage failing since she now comes from a “broken home?” Sadly, I hope for Tyler’s sake, that this marriage doesn’t take place. I think we can all see the handwriting on the wall if Emma doesn’t get some help, but she is so deep into her lies, that she can’t lose face by telling the truth. I know it will come out eventually. I’m just afraid of who else may be hurt by Emma’s actions. I will be sharing the entire story here. I have given Emma the chance to keep this between herself, her dad and myself, and she continues to lie, so I will continue to document the story. I have pages and pages of notes, but am working full time, so it will be a slow project. Thank you to those of you have supported and encouraged me with this project. This story needs to be told, and parents need to be warned about therapists and what can go wrong when you have a very smart child and only average therapists. I will also share my adventures with this experience. I had planned on picketing one of the therapists today, but didn’t get my sign made. Since I don’t have a lot of days off, the picketing will just go on when I can get to it, but I’m sure that will be interesting. I will also share my thoughts on dealing with divorce and attorneys. Phill’s attorney definitely had some interesting things to say about Emma. He was willing to handle Phill’s divorce, but wanted nothing to do with Emma (more on that later). He told my attorney that he didn’t believe Emma and that Phill was letting Emma run the show. If you have any questions or comments, many of you have my private e-mail, or you can e-mail me through the blog. Thanks for reading, even if it is a horrible and a very sad story.

(Updated 11/25/12)

Dear Emma,

I just wanted to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving.  I am thankful you are my daughter.  Being your mom was one of the greatest gifts I ever had.  I’m thankful for you, and thankful that I got to stay home to raise you.  You were such a fun baby and little kid.  I got to see all those milestones like walking, talking, discovering a water fountain, hearing all the funny things you said….

Even though you’ve chosen to go down this road you are on, I still love you and miss you.  I will be here to help you pick up the pieces when you are ready.

I’m also thankful for some wonderful friends (new and old) and experiences I’ve had in the past year and a half.  I’ve been amazed at God’s timing, so I will continue to trust him.
Love,

Mom (Mommy, Maze, Momaise, and even Plotakiss!)

(Update)

I was thinking about our last Thanksgiving together Nov. of 2010, just before you pulled your little DFACS stunt.  We had Thanksgiving at Janice’s and had a wonderful evening.  We were sitting in the kitchen, looking at the paper, and you wanted to go to KOHL’s for Black Friday.  Even though I am NOT a shopper, and I had NEVER gone Black Friday shopping, I agreed to get up at 2 or 3 am and take you shopping because it was what you wanted to do.  We went and spent over an hour in line just to pay for our purchases.  We had fun talking to the other people in line who were out in the Black Friday madness.  You got a couple of those sweater mini-dresses, and I think that was when you got your suede grey boots, too.  I think the only thing I got for me was a green faux suede blouse for church and school.  That was probably my first and last experience with Black Friday shopping.