**This letter is specifically addressed to the leaders of my home church at the time this all happened. It has been part of my healing process.

Dear CCC Pastors and Leaders,

It has now been 27 years since a man in your congregation and choir groomed and violated me.

Three years ago, I learned he also harmed two additional girls over a span of five years, one only six months before me. Both of them attended Capital Christian Center and Capital Christian School.

It has also been 27 years since this same man sat in an office with my dad, Pastor Rick, and admitted to what he had done. My dad later described how excruciating it was to sit across from him, to hear that confession, and to stay composed, but he was grateful that the truth was spoken.

And it has been 27 years since you allowed him to step back on stage with me just hours after that confession. Whenever I share this part of my story, people freeze. They close their eyes, wince, or stare at me speechless, because it makes no sense.

Did you know that on the same day he confessed, I could still feel him watching me from the stage? That even being confronted didn’t stop him. Did you know that I, the one he harmed, was the one questioned and pressured by his friends and family?

The question I have carried for decades is this:

Why? Why was he allowed to continue?

I later learned that some ushers and staff were told to “keep an eye on him.” I still can’t understand the logic of that. It was not the job of ushers to keep watch over a man who had confessed to harming a minor. If he was unsafe enough to require monitoring, then he should not have been anywhere near minors or participated in the show. Protecting me and any other young person was your responsibility.

I sometimes tell myself that if he had been seriously injured or got sick and physically couldn’t sing, you would have found a way to continue the production without him. But when he admitted to harming a child, suddenly the show could not go on without him.

That decision has stayed with me ever since.

What he did to me was devastating.

But the secondary wound, the wound that lingered for decades, was your decision to let him remain in the building, on the stage, and near the very girl he harmed. A child whose innocence had been violated. A girl who needed protection. She needed adults to guard her safety and to honor her trust. She needed to see that when a child is harmed, everything stops until safety and accountability are secured. She needed to know that shepherds protect their flock before protecting a production.

Instead, nothing meaningful was done to ensure he could not harm anyone else.

And tragically, I am not the only one. Many others before and after me were targeted in your church halls and school offices, and they too were not protected.

I have often wondered whether any of you regret how this was handled.

And I have wondered this:

If it had been your daughter, would your response have been the same?

Would you have allowed him back on stage if the victim had been your own child?

Would you have looked her in the eyes and said,

“Sweetheart, I know this man harmed you, but the show must go on”?

I pray the answer is no. But I may never know.

What I do know is that I was that girl.

I have also learned that Reverend Kelly Stack Scott (formerly Sapp), one of the music pastor’s wives and my youth choir leader, challenged your decision. She called to ensure he would not be allowed to continue in the show because she knew it was wrong. She was dismissed and told it was “being handled” and “not her concern.” She was, from everything I know, the only one on the church side who fought for the right thing to happen, not only for me, but for others. I remain deeply grateful for her courage.

I have learned there were many other incidents involving other leaders, staff, and students but those are not my stories to tell.

As shepherds, your calling was to protect the flock God entrusted to you. Yet as more stories and scandals from CCC have come to light over the years, I have felt physically sick. In every case, protection seemed to go toward the person who caused harm, or the church itself, not the one who suffered it.

The list of individuals who were shielded, teachers, counselors, coaches, pastor’s kids, and more, is long. The ones left behind were the victims, trying to gather the shattered pieces of their lives alone.

For years I told myself that at least you offered me counseling. But then I learned you offered the same to him as part of his “consequences” in exchange for not reporting him to law enforcement. To our understanding, he was removed from choir leadership and later resigned from choir on his own.

To my knowledge, sadly nothing was done to prevent him from repeating this pattern.

And while I have no proof (yet), I would be willing to bet he did repeat it.

Just two months after my assault, I saw him in the hallway talking to another girl my age, in the very same place where he first approached me. And why wouldn’t he? He had just walked away with virtually no consequence.

In 2022, the other two victims found me. When I reposted my original blog during the Scott Sorgea story, without even naming this man, two women immediately recognized who I meant. One had been ghosted by church leadership when she reported him years later. The other had never spoken of it to anyone until then.

What I want you to understand is this:

Silence and inaction are not neutral.

They are choices, choices that harmed me and harmed others. Choices that left children vulnerable to someone you already knew were unsafe.

I have carried the weight of your decisions for nearly three decades. I have lived with the consequences of his actions, and your inaction, far longer than he ever did.

So today, I am calling you to something you avoided for 27 years.

Do now what should have been done then:

Acknowledge the harm.

Name the failures.

Protect the vulnerable.

Tell the truth.

Your church may have closed its doors after lawsuits, but closure is not accountability. A building shutting down does not absolve leaders of the choices they made, the protection they withheld, or the children harmed under their care.

Even now…especially now, you still have the opportunity to act with integrity:

Tell the truth.

Acknowledge your failures.

Take responsibility for choosing image and convenience over safety.

I cannot undo what happened to me. But you can choose honesty and courage in how you respond today.

The doors of CCC may be closed, but your responsibility is not.

I also recognize that some of you reading this were not part of leadership 27 years ago when my assault occurred. This letter is not about placing blame on those who were not present at the beginning of this story. But the pattern of mishandling abuse at CCC did not begin or end with my story. In the years that both preceded and followed, additional victims came forward, and the same culture of silence, dismissal, and protection of the wrong person continued. Some leadership changed, but the institutional response did not. This letter is therefore addressed to every leader who was part of CCC’s lineage, anyone who inherited this culture, contributed to it, or unknowingly allowed it to continue through inaction. Whether or not you were present during my specific incident, the responsibility to tell the truth and acknowledge harm rests with all who held spiritual authority within this institution.

I want you to hear this clearly:

I forgive you.

Not because what happened was small or forgettable, but because I refuse to let your silence define my life. Forgiveness is freedom for me, not absolution for you.

Forgiveness does not mean I will be silent.

It does not mean I will stop advocating for the vulnerable.

It does not mean I will stop calling the Church to do better.

It does mean that I release the harm, the pain, and all of you to Jesus.

In fact, it is precisely because I believe in what the Church should be that I will continue to speak. Since then, it has been friends and other believers (including other victims) who stepped in to provide the care, wisdom, and protection that were withheld from me. They embodied the heart of Christ when I needed it most.

So I will keep speaking.

I will keep advocating.

I will keep holding the Church to the standard it proclaims.

The doors of CCC may be closed, but the call to truth, accountability, and protection remain open.

And last, but most importantly, I will not stop fighting for every child, every survivor, and every community of faith that deserves safety, truth and courage.

Sincerely,

Jennifer Patin (formerly Carrington)

Survivor and Advocate