Mike Gunter,

I’ve waited 27 years to say these things to you.

There are questions I’ve carried for decades, questions I’m not even sure I want the answers to.

How many girls were there?

Do you even know?

How many before me?

I know of two, possibly three.

How many after?

That question haunts me, because I know my family and the church could have stopped you. Or at least tried.

I sometimes wonder what went through your mind that day.

If I were you, and I had confessed to a room of two men, including her father, that I had groomed and assaulted a teenage girl…

Yet I was allowed to stand just feet away from you hours later, in church, like it never happened…

If I just got a slap on the hand…step down from choir, take a year of mandated counseling…

Why would I stop?

This reality has haunted me for years.

For the first few years, I told myself I was the only one, even though deep down, I knew it was impossible. I told myself the church had done the right thing. I was wrong on both counts.

I was also told for years not to speak your name publicly, that I needed to protect your family.

Why???

Mine hasn’t been protected for 27 years.

In one way or another, we all had to live with it. My parents have had to live with it. My husband has had to live with it. My girls have had to live with it.

It doesn’t just go away.

It resurfaced in so many aspects of my life without even knowing it. No one tells you about the intangible layers of grief and healing. In one form or another, we have all counted the cost.

What is the cost?

My voice. Years of feeling like my voice and needs didn’t matter. The choices I made from that mindset have haunted me. They’ve robbed me. You robbed me…of my innocence, my trust in people, of so many things. You robbed me of the ability to feel safe even with my own husband at times.

Your family also never protected me.

Because the one that you harmed six months before me confronted you and your family. You knew. And whether you and your family wanted to face it at the time, THEY were alerted that something was seriously wrong. You denied it then.

But years later, when she finally made a police report, they ran your name through the system, and what did they find? Nothing.

If only we had filed charges. She thought she was alone.

She was a pregnant teen. Vulnerable. In need. You took advantage of her. And then she was told to leave your home because she dared to confront you. She was your daughter’s best friend.

How cruel do you have to be to assault a pregnant teenage girl and then deny it, while watching your family cast her out?

The other one? You harmed her five years earlier. The same pattern, the same disgusting comments.

Which begs the question…

How many more did you violate in that five-year span?

She never told a soul until 3 years ago. Why?

Because you and your family knew everyone. Because she didn’t think she would be believed.

When she finally told her husband, he wasn’t surprised. You seem to have a type: teenage girls between 16-17.

We were all 16-17.

You see, the worst part of all this wasn’t just what happened…

Yes, I was harmed. I had been groomed, touched inappropriately, and violated. Two others were as well.

But the tragedy also lies in what everyone else did not do.

The church leaders essentially became accomplices when they did nothing to prevent you from doing this to anybody else after me. And then they learned that you had done this to yet another girl and did NOTHING to pursue justice or healing.

To my knowledge, they did nothing to prevent you from being around more teenage girls, ever.

One of the other victims came to them needing help, wanting to protect others. They cut off contact with her. They put you back on stage with me.

They knew. You knew. Your family knew.

How many more are there?

How many girls did you groom by seeking them out and finding reasons to have conversations with them?

How many girls did you make comments to about their body?

How many backsides have you touched in a dark hallway?

How many have you offered to help them change their clothes?

How many molesting hugs have you given?

How many girls have you groped or grabbed inappropriately?

Do I really want to know?

Yes. Because they deserve their chance to speak, to be believed, to be vindicated.

Also no. Because the weight of the potential number haunts me. If there are more, how many could have been stopped? How many could have lived a life without this reality?

You aren’t the only one to blame.

Yes, you were the one to do this, but the impact goes far beyond you.

You had pastors, more concerned about a Christmas production than removing you for mine or anyone else’s safety.

You had school leaders who placated and offered help only to ghost one of the victims and cut off all contact once it had to go up the ladder to the Senior Pastor.

You had a wife who asked me if I was sure you weren’t joking.

You had daughters who followed me through the church and hissed threats and then gave dirty looks every time they saw me.

You had people in the church who, after hearing of you in the same hallway with another girl not even two months later, still did nothing.

You STILL haven’t come clean.

This same church is STILL covering stories like this up. It no longer exists and has had multiple lawsuits against it for coverups and utter failure to do right by victims.

None of us have ever had an apology. I was told you guys offered to apologize at the time, but my family decided I had been through enough at the time. I am only one with a confession. Your family is STILL likely protecting you.

What you don’t know is how all of this has affected us over the years.

You don’t understand the emotional weight carried into our marriages and parenting.

You don’t understand what it’s like to feel your voice, your protection, and your safety doesn’t matter.

You don’t understand what it’s like to try to protect your own daughters from this same thing.

You don’t know how nauseous I was the day you were at my daughter’s volleyball tournament.

You don’t know the feeling I got every time I walked back into that hallway and remembered the hugs, the comments, the uneasiness.

You don’t know the regret I carry after everything in my gut was screaming at me to run away that final night.

You don’t know what it’s like to have nightmares of this event on and off for years.

You don’t know what it’s like to question every pastor and church leader in how they would approach this issue. Are they safe? Would they protect me, my kids, or themselves?

I want you to know. You need to know…

Your name is no longer a secret. It was time for me to finally tell the truth of what happened, and who did it.

I’ve had to forgive you several times over the years. I’ve had to pray so many times to let go. You don’t hold any power over me anymore.

All that said…

I do forgive you.

I also pray that if you haven’t already, you repent before God for your harmful and destructive actions. I pray that you have repented to your family for the burden your actions have placed on them. You put them in an unimaginable position. I pray you get the courage to apologize and make amends, even though it can never be taken back.

I sincerely pray you receive healing for all the areas you need it. People who do this kind of thing undoubtedly have things to heal from and I know the God I serve is capable to bring you that healing. He is a God who forgives, redeems and restores.

Sincerely,

Someone you don’t have power over anymore.

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