26/08/2026
When I found out my daughters’ grandfather had been sexually abusing them, I got in my car and drove to his house. I was going to kill him.
I was consumed by a rage, I had never felt before. When I got there, the confrontation became heated, and before long I put him on his knees in his own front yard, and he admitted to what my girls had told us. I could have let my anger take over. Instead, I called the police. My girls didn’t need revenge. They needed their father to protect them, believe them, and make sure the truth was heard. I’ll never forget the strength it took for my girls to come forward. They were children. They shouldn’t have had to carry the weight of what happened to them, much less find the words to tell adults about it. At school, they had been taught about “safe and unsafe touch”- lessons that gave them the words and understanding to recognize what was happening to them, was wrong. They spoke about things that were painful, confusing, and terrifying. They sat through forensic interviews and told the truth, when it would have been so much easier to stay silent. They had to face questions no child should ever have to answer. And through all of it, they kept going. They found their voices. There was another part of this story, I had kept buried for most of my life. When I was 10, an older boy in my neighborhood m0lested me. I never told my parents. I never told my friends. I carried that secret for decades. My girls courage, changed something in me. It forced me to face the little boy I had been, who never told anybody. For the first time in life, I finally said out loud, “This happened to me, too.” In protecting my daughters, I finally began healing a part of myself that I had left behind at 10 years old.
My wife’s father was 74 years old- someone who should have spent his later years creating memories with his grandchildren, and being someone they could look up to. Today, he is serving a 5 year prison sentence, for r@pe. From the day I confronted him, to the day he finally stood in court and pleaded guilty, 505 days passed. That sentence can never give my girls back the innocence that was taken from them, but it is a consequence of what happened. My girls no longer have to carry the burden of keeping, his secret. Doing the right thing came with a price. Our family was shattered. People took sides. Some people didn’t understand why we couldn’t simply move, on or why we continued to fight. Holidays, birthdays, and family gatherings, suddenly looked completely different. There is a grief that comes with losing family while everyone is still alive, I don’t think people talk enough about that. We lost people we never wanted to lose because we refused to sacrifice our children’s truth, to keep everyone else comfortable. I realized how important it is for a child to hear, “I believe you. None of this is your fault. I am here. And I will protect you.” My girls deserved nothing less. Today, they are in junior high, growing, laughing, learning, making friends, and slowly becoming the young women they were always meant to be. They are living, healing, and finding pieces of themselves again. I am so proud of them, that I don’t know if words will ever be enough. There is no relationship, no family gathering, no reputation, and no amount of discomfort that is more important than protecting a child. And even though doing the right thing cost us… I would make the same decision, every single time.
You can help a child protect themselves from abusers, by gifting them a FREE Tell Somebody book! 📚 gofundme.com/GiveAFreeBook
Child abusers, please stop and seek therapy and God.
Parents, talk with and believe your children. ❤️
Survivors, seek therapy. 💪🏽
(To share your story of abuse, message me)
www.TellSomebodyToday.com
