date of testimony: January 22th 2018
location of testimony: Lansing, Michigan
statement read by court official Ms Snyder
To truly believe that you know someone and then to find out that the very truth you believed in is a complete lie will sink you in a way that was never expected or anticipated. The only word that comes to mind when I think of what I should say to you is sad. I am sad for the community. I am sad for MSU. I am sad for your colleagues who supported someone they thought they could trust. I am sad for every single young woman who was a victim of your abuse. I am sad for myself and the pieces that I am left to put back together.
And I am sad for you. I am sad that you chose to act on your urges with young women who put all of their trust in you. I wish there was a big enough word to tell you how I feel towards you now.
I truly believed that you wanted to help me, but now, looking back, everything I thought I knew looks like it was all a facade. It’s all twisted, and my brain can’t make sense of any of it. How could someone who seemed so genuine be harming not only himself mentally but hundreds of young women both physically and emotionally?
What seems the most unfair is that I’m the one left to pick up the pieces. I was the one who needed a doctor because of the pain that I was and still am in. I sought you as a last resort. The pain I experienced then still persists. What doctor can I even see? There are very few men that I trust anymore.
My job requires me to shut the doors so as to not breach confidentiality, but I can’t. I can’t bring myself to shut the doors with a man I don’t know in the room with me. I can’t talk about it with anyone because if they ask me how I’m doing, I’ll lose my words and tears form in my eyes. It makes me so mad because I don’t want to deal with any of it.
I wasted my time for years going to appointments at your office and now I have to continue wasting my time and my energy trying to figure out how to pick up the pieces.
I’m so sad that young girls’ Olympic success will always be shadowed by the horrific choices you made. I am sad that you have taken away the school I grew up cheering for. I am sad that I cannot drive down Hagadorn without seeing the room on the fourth floor where you treated me and other patients. The day I walked into the clinic to request my medical records for the attorneys made me sick.
I cannot replace the tears that have streamed down my face, or worse, my mother’s. I can pick up the pieces for myself. I picked myself up from the physical pain I’ve experienced and I can do it for this. What I can’t do is take the pain away from my mom. I can’t make it better. The regrets that she holds are damaging. The relationship that we have now is fragmented. She wants to talk about it to help heal — her healing process but I don’t.
Nothing in me wants to say anything more than, I’m fine. I can’t find the words.
Just typing this makes me sick. I can’t stop the tears from forming in my eyes. The hurt that I feel goes way too deep. I don’t want to think about it, which is why I chose to remain anonymous. Something in me believed it would be easier. It’s not. If anything, it makes it more difficult because I left myself with no support. Only a few people are there to support me, but what can they even do? They don’t understand. They never met the loud, funny person that grabbed the attention when they walked in a room. Reports say that you’re quiet and soft spoken now. Who are you really? That’s the only question I’m left with. Number 142.
THE COURT: Thank you. I’m hoping that her statement will help her and her mother and her hurt heal. I don’t think she realizes how important just writing that statement is, and I’m hoping that she’s hearing me speak or that you’ll pass on that message to her. I’m hoping her sadness is replaced with hope and happiness for a bright future, which she clearly has.
She has found her voice. She just needs to realize how strong she is, and hopefully she’ll do that with her sister survivors. Thank you.