Closing the Loop
If you remember the news from the late 1980s, especially if you lived in Southern California, you probably remember the McMartin Preschool child molestation case, in which several pre-school teachers were accused of sexually abusing children in satanic rituals that included flying around the city (no airplane), drinking the blood of a beheaded baby (though no headless babies were found and no babies were missing), and of using a room full of lions to scare children to do what they were told. (More examples at the end of this page.)
When the case came to trial, a survey commissioned by the defense found that 97.5% of people in the area believed the defendants were guilty, but their motion for a change of venue was denied. Nevertheless, all defendants were found not guilty of all charges except one, who deadlocked two juries before the charges were dismissed — after he spent five years in jail during the investigation, preliminary hearing, and two trials, and was financially ruined by the cost of his defense.
The loop is now starting to close — one of the children, now 30 years old, has told the Los Angeles Times what happened: how he was induced to lie, how not even his mother believed him when he tried to take it back.
Anytime I would give them an answer that they didn’t like, they would ask again and encourage me to give them the answer they were looking for. It was really obvious what they wanted. I know the types of language they used on me: things like I was smart, or I could help the other kids who were scared.
I felt uncomfortable and a little ashamed that I was being dishonest. But at the same time, being the type of person I was, whatever my parents wanted me to do, I would do. And I thought they wanted me to help protect my little brother and sister who went to McMartin.
…
But the lying really bothered me. One particular night stands out in my mind. I was maybe 10 years old and I tried to tell my mom that nothing had happened. I lay on the bed crying hysterically—I wanted to get it off my chest, to tell her the truth. My mother kept asking me to please tell her what was the matter. I said she would never believe me. She persisted: “I promise I’ll believe you! I love you so much! Tell me what’s bothering you!” This went on for a long time: I told her she wouldn’t believe me, and she kept assuring me she would. I remember finally telling her, “Nothing happened! Nothing ever happened to me at that school.”She didn’t believe me.
