What follows is part one of a three-part personal account of the hearing and some of the events leading up to it, written by a member of the Recovering Grace leadership team who was there. (Part Two) (Part Three)

Hearing Day

The morning of the hearing started for the plaintiffs at the Fairfield Inn and Suites in Lombard, Illinois. They had congregated there as early as Tuesday, to spend all day Wednesday preparing for the hearing with their attorneys and to connect with each other and with others who had traveled to Chicago in solidarity. Staying with them at their hotel were spouses, siblings, and former plaintiffs from the original lawsuit who had not been filed against by Bill Gothard. A free breakfast was provided—some congregated there after getting ready, and some skipped breakfast altogether.

They wouldn’t have had to be here at all, had Gothard been willing to settle in negotiations, as the judge had practically begged them to do, partly to avoid the need for long-distance travel for seven plaintiffs to testify. Some speculated that Gothard wanted to punish the women for the time, expense, and embarrassment of a lawsuit that they voluntarily dismissed before it got really good. The fact that they dropped it before they finished seemed, to me, to have more to do with the statute of limitations and the fact that even a legal win would likely not sufficiently compensate their hardworking attorneys for their time. But I didn’t have all the details, and I didn’t ask for them. Gothard was, perhaps, hoping to regain the helm of his former ministry and its dwindling assets, and to get there, he needed to completely discredit all of the women’s stories. One of the plaintiffs told me that Gothard would accept no settlement but complete denial of their claims. His settlement proposals apparently were so over-reaching they were ridiculous. So, the women made their travel plans and booked their hotel, and didn’t pay a penny of it. All travel expenses were covered by donations from hundreds of former Gothard-followers who’d heard their stories, believed these courageous women, and validated them through a non-profit organization called THOS.  Their hotel stay was paid for by the generous donation of a former member of the Los Angeles Seminar Committee, who resigned during the 80s Scandal. These women were able to attend this hearing without any financial stress, due to the generosity of others, and when they spoke to me about it, they mentioned how bolstered they felt emotionally by the financial gifts, because it meant they were not doing this alone.

The mood was anticipatory. There was not an expression of fear, but certainly of the unknown—the women clearly held, like a talisman, to the knowledge that the kinds of tactics this public figure was willing to engage in to silence his detractors were no match for the strength of their convictions in bringing forth their claims. Their courage was bolstered by those who planned to attend, as well as by those who planned to stay at the hotel and pray. All seven of the plaintiffs responding to these motions for sanctions were women. So they prepared themselves as women, in the peculiar way that a woman prepares to enter the same room as the man who once used her as though he would never be held to account for his behavior.

They groomed themselves. Their way. One plaintiff told me she intended to style her hair in just the way Gothard had told her that he liked it. Her tone and expression when she told me this was not subservient—the choice was hers to make now, and she had determined that her hair did look good that way. Another of the plaintiffs did the opposite—she had asked her hairdresser to cut her hair much shorter than she usually wore it—shorter than Gothard would have approved of twenty years ago, when he would have told her how he liked it and expected her to comply. Makeup was applied. Five of the six women wore dress pants; one wore a pencil skirt. All wore primarily black, with some exceptions. Grooming, when utilized as armor, takes on the personality and strength of the wearer. When I watched these women exit the elevator to the lobby, their combined strength was palpable. I don’t know how each of them felt that morning individually, but they made me feel that everything was possible.

One of the seven women stayed home, and though it was only 4:00 AM in New Zealand, she was already up and praying. Rachel Lees was unable to travel to the U.S. due to visa issues, and, as Mr. Gothard’s attorney never responded to Mr. Mincieli’s attempts at a resolution to her absence (such as a video hearing), she would not be placed under oath. By the time noon came around, the sun would have risen in New Zealand, and the other women intended to call her with an update.

DuPage County was bitterly cold at nine o’clock in the morning. Most of us attending the hearing on behalf of the plaintiffs no longer lived in Chicago, but the feel of the cutting Chicago wind acted like a memory. We hustled inside as quickly as possible, entering the long lines queued at the security checkpoints. Cell phones were not allowed, but we’d been forewarned and had left our devices in our rental cars. We’d also been warned by the attorneys that this would likely be an uneventful hearing. Judge Popejoy was known to be a no-nonsense judge who allowed for no disruption in his courtroom. The plaintiffs and their supporters would be expected to remain silent and unobtrusive. Another issue was the size of the courtroom. Rumor had it that Gothard had invited a number of people to attend the hearing. Between his supporters and those of us who were there to support the plaintiffs, the gallery might be overcrowded. A few of us were prepared to sit in the hallway if space was an issue.

After passing through security, we took the escalator to the second floor, and then took the hallway on the left as we’d been directed. There was some concern that Gothard’s supporters might make unwanted overtures toward the plaintiffs, but, although we saw a few people we recognized, no attempts were made to communicate with anyone on the opposing side. Judge Popejoy’s nine o’clock calendar included several items; Wilkinson v. IBLP et.al. was scheduled for nine-thirty. I entered the courtroom and took a seat on the left side of the gallery facing the bench along with a few of the other non-parties. The six plaintiffs remained in the hallway with their attorneys. Behind us sat Alfred Corduan, author of a pro-Gothard blog launched in response to Recovering Grace some years ago. His wife sat with him, as did Tim Jaycox, a longtime vocal supporter of Gothard via social media. I heard Alfred identify me to his companions in a stage whisper. (He frequently refers to me as a co-founder of RG. I suppose that reference is close enough; I have certainly been a part of RG from its beginning.) Besides them, I recognized three additional people: the most recent IBLP Board President, IBLP’s in-house counsel, and IBLP’s head of finance.

As the early calendar wrapped up, I stepped into the hallway and introduced myself to the plaintiffs’ attorney from Illinois, Jon Mincieli. If he’d ever been truly concerned about the potentially unruly numbers that might crowd the gallery on behalf of the plaintiffs, I couldn’t see it on his face when I shook his hand. He had the air of a man who felt relaxed and confident. I had been told by the plaintiffs that he had won their respect, and from our brief conversation, I could see why: they had clearly won his.

Back in the courtroom, a couple of the attorneys from the early calendar were asking the judge for some extra time to discuss their case, and in refusing them he waved over to the half-full gallery, “Do you see what I’m dealing with here?” The nine o’clock calendar began to clear out of the courtroom. I did a quick count—there were eighteen seats on each side of the gallery, with an aisle down the middle leading up to the bar. Thirty-six seats, then. I wondered if it would be tight.

The judge left the courtroom for the short break in between calendars. Mr. Mincieli crossed the bar and chose a recently vacated table. He crossed over to me and indicated the empty right side of the gallery. “We’re allowed to choose either side. If you’d like to sit behind the plaintiffs’ table, we’ll be over here.” Once we had moved ourselves over and the plaintiffs filed in, the right gallery was full. Besides the plaintiffs and their supporters, a professional courtroom artist took up an extra seat on the plaintiffs’ side, as did two members of a documentary team. On the defense side, about a third of the gallery was filled, and the spectators included a second interested documentary team, who had requested camera access to the courtroom in a hearing that Monday and been denied. (Interestingly, the only party of the three—Gothard, IBLP, and plaintiffs—that filed documents opposing the media recording was IBLP. They apparently made a really solid argument based on the fact that they had been making a concerted effort for years to protect the identity of the Jane Does, and to allow media recording would nullify their efforts. The judge strongly agreed with IBLP and denied media access.). 

Besides Jon Mincieli (from the Illinois law firm Meyers & Flowers, LLC), two attorneys from Bryant Law Center, PSC (the firm that originated the lawsuit), attended on behalf of the plaintiffs: Mark Bryant and Emily Roark. Shortly before the hearing was to start, Bill Gothard’s attorney, David Sotomayor, entered the courtroom and approached the plaintiffs’ table. This was not Gothard’s original attorney, whose name was Mr. Gaffney. We were told without explanation that Mr. Sotomayor had been attached to the case for only a matter of weeks. Reaching for a briefcase that had been left on the table, he turned to Ms. Roark, indicated the opposing table, and asked with a smirk, “Do you want to move this over there for me?” He didn’t explain himself, but my impression was that he meant to snark at her, since he was clearly moving the files himself. Ms. Roark was a tiny, slender woman dressed no less powerfully than the plaintiffs in a black skirt suit and four-inch heels. She ignored him; a classy lady. I think I would have taken it personally. It wouldn’t be the only time that Bill Gothard’s attorney obliquely insulted Ms. Roark that day; he forgot her name at least twice.

In addition to those of us observing from the gallery and the three attorneys for the plaintiffs, four individuals were seated at the defense table: David Sotomayor, Robert Dawidiuk and Jeffrey Cisowski (IBLP’s attorneys from The Collins Law Firm, P.C.), and Bill Gothard. Gothard wore his signature dark suit and carried his own dossier of files, which appeared to include a stack of personal letters. He did not look around, though he occasionally spoke quietly to his attorney. His lack of presence hardly changed throughout the day.

The judge entered the room, and the bailiff called the court to order. During the nine o’clock hour, attorneys had approached the bench to identify themselves and their cases, but, as this promised to be a several-hour hearing, Judge Popejoy indicated that the attorneys could remain seated as they introduced themselves to the court. The judge reminded the parties of what he’d already stipulated ahead of time: that each motion would only be allotted forty minutes. “The movant will have 20 minutes to complete whatever presentation they wish in regard to their motion, including any testimony, argument, or the like. There will be 15 minutes for the respondent to the motion to provide any testimony, argument, or the like. There will be five minutes for the movant to do any final testimony, rebuttal testimony, or argument and the like.” Bill Gothard was the movant. He was also on the list of witnesses who could be called, as were IBLP President Dr. Tim Levundusky, Jon Mincieli, and Alfred Corduan.

Motion for Protective Order

Before the motions against the plaintiffs were heard, the judge first called the motion for protective order filed by the plaintiffs. My understanding of this motion was that the plaintiffs had felt harassed by Bill Gothard through communications they believed he was encouraging his supporters to initiate, including contact with their families or friends, in order to convince the women to communicate directly with Bill. They also seemed to be concerned about a “gag order” Mr. Gothard was trying to impose on them and others (such as Recovering Grace) never to write or speak against him publicly again. It seemed impossible that any judge would order such a thing, but the women told me that they felt strongly that if a judge did so order, Bill Gothard himself wouldn’t obey it, leaving them open to even more harassment, with very few avenues left to defend themselves. To me, it seemed that, essentially, the plaintiffs were feeling bullied.

Mr. Dawidiuk spoke for IBLP, offering to help “shortcut” the hearing by excusing IBLP from the arguments entirely. He pointed out that allegations against IBLP’s behavior weren’t included in the motion for protective order: “If counsel agrees that at the end of his presentation he is not going to seek an entry of any order that affects IBLP or its employees, then we can short this because I will have no need to cross-examine these witnesses to elicit testimony to support my position, which is that—which is that it should not affect or impact or be directed to go against the IBLP.” Mr. Mincieli conceded, “To the extent that the individuals named in the motion are not employees of IBLP, then it is not directed at the IBLP.” The judge agreed, and IBLP’s attorneys did not speak again throughout the entire hearing. They did, however, remain in the courtroom. They did not remain expressionless. In fact, at times during the testimonies, IBLP’s attorneys appeared to be greatly affected by what they heard.

In the end, the protective order did not get much courtroom time. Mr. Mincieli primarily rested on his arguments on the motion itself and the pleadings, and, the judge having acknowledged that he had read through everything, Mr. Mincieli chose not to rehash those arguments during his allotted time. He asked if he could roll the time over as needed for any of the other motions, but the judge denied his request, so he used his time to briefly state some of the ways Gothard and his supporters had sought to invade the plaintiffs’ privacy, without regard to their Jane Doe status. Mr. Sotomayor countered with what he termed “essentially, the most prominent argument”: that a first amendment right allowed them to defend themselves in regard to what his client contended were false allegations and defrauding the court. He also took the opportunity to poke at Jane Doe III (who had outed herself on social media as Emily following the non-suit in 2018) asserting that her choice to give up her anonymity was inconsistent with her request for relief from harassment. Mr. Mincieli reiterated his argument that, regardless of their Jane Doe status, all the plaintiffs had a right to “a reasonable amount of privacy and to be free from harassment.”

The judge denied the motion for protective order, stating that he wasn’t going to assign himself the task of policing everyone’s social media for years to come, and reminding the plaintiffs that he was considering the rights of free speech and association. Judge Popejoy did not stop at this denial, but rather took the time to detail alternative remedies to harassment, including specific orders of protection on an individual basis. And then the judge went one step further, denying Mr. Gaffney’s suggestion in his pleadings that the court take judicial notice of “the adverse publicity Gothard has been inundated with over the years from Recovering Grace.” The judge said unequivocally, “I do not take judicial notice of anything.” Finally, Judge Popejoy addressed a personal request that Bill Gothard had asked to be added to Mr. Gaffney’s pleadings: “This Court does not consider his personal request for biblical reconciliation. There is a difference between church and state, and this part is State, and I don’t get involved in any biblical reconciliation.” The plaintiffs had been warned by their attorneys that this motion would probably be denied. For a denial, this ruling came across as more of a workshop on what the court deemed itself qualified to take ownership over, rather than a denial of the validity of the harassment allegations.

This motion was the only one of the eight that the judge ruled on immediately following the hearing—he withheld his decision on Gothard’s motions against the seven plaintiffs until all of those motions had been heard.

Motion for Protective Order
Response to Motion for Protective Order

At this point, the entire courtroom seemed to take a collective breath as we prepared for the first plaintiff to be called to testify. The gallery was quiet. IBLP’s attorneys had established themselves as well-prepared observers who had no intention of inserting themselves in the proceedings. They did not speak to Gothard, who sat right next to them, nor did they converse with Mr. Sotomayor. Nor did they leave, though the judge told them they might do so if they chose. Jon Mincieli was the clear spokesperson for the plaintiffs’ side, and, in fact, the Bryant attorneys spoke very little throughout the day. Mr. Mincieli was deferential to both the judge and the opposition, and rarely raised his voice. He came across as quietly confident, and his composure did not falter even later in the day, in the face of very personalized verbal flagellation. In comparison, the highly demonstrative Mr. Sotomayor came across as more of a caricature. He moved a lot, despite the fact that the microphones required him to stay seated. He was sometimes loud, sometimes calm, sometimes scattered, sometimes focused. He worked from handwritten notes on a yellow legal pad, and, when asked to produce the documents in evidence to which he referred, was often hard-pressed to find them in his piles. He made several choices throughout the day that felt to me like blunders.

Mr. Sotomayor’s first apparent blunder was his motion to exclude witnesses just as Jane Doe III was being called to the stand. Of all the potential witnesses, only one was not a party to the lawsuit. The judge sent him out, and, just like that, pro-Gothard blogger Alfred Corduan found himself outside the courtroom for the rest of the day. As it turned out, he was never called as a witness by either party.

Motion for Sanctions: Jane Doe III (Emily)

Emily was first on the stand. Emily’s outer persona is joy in the face of sorrow. In the days before the hearing, I had a chance to meet her and the other plaintiffs, and she brought to mind the “unsinkable Molly Brown” of Titanic fame. She is indomitable. Irrepressible. She embodies grace and inner strength, and she makes everyone smile who crosses her path. Emily is in her late twenties. When she read the first account of Gothard’s behavior toward women on Recovering Grace and realized that she was presently experiencing something similar with him, Emily was just nineteen years old. Gothard was in his late 70s. Emily had asked to be named as a Jane Doe for reasons she would eloquently detail in the hearing, and she would be equally eloquent in her explanation as to why her name was now connected to the case on her social media. Emily walked past Bill Gothard to the witness stand with her head held high and with a small smile on her face. She turned to face the judge and was sworn in. During the hearing, she was referred to as Jane Doe III, respecting her original request to be unnamed.

We’d been told to expect the judge to be no-nonsense. He was known to demand respect and decorum in his courtroom, and he would not tolerate interruptions from the gallery. We were also told not to expect any big courtroom moments or grandstanding. This would be a very simple hearing responding to the motions, and the judge would not likely allow things to go off course. The morning did start out as we’d been told to expect, but from the moment the first plaintiff took the stand until Judge Popejoy read his ruling, I was riveted. The hearing was everything we were told not to expect, and then some.

It became quickly clear that it was not Mr. Sotomayor’s intention to win the judge’s favor. He was loud and abrasive in a courtroom known for its decorum. He paced the floor even though the judge reminded him that the microphones were at the attorneys’ tables, and that he needed to remain seated. Occasionally, he addressed the plaintiffs’ side of the gallery with thinly veiled disparagement and sarcasm. At one point, he challenged the judge’s bias, and asked him to recuse himself. Judge Popejoy was so incensed by this effrontery that he actually seemed to grow larger on his bench. The judge leaned forward, and the rest of the courtroom—except for Mr. Sotomayor—shrank back. Then, in his final arguments, Mr. Sotomayor paced the room again, this time between the empty jury box and the judge’s bench, telling humorous anecdotal stories that nobody laughed at and throwing out one-liners intended to appeal to—well, to a jury. Not to a judge, and certainly not to this judge. It felt in those moments as though Bill Gothard’s attorney lacked awareness, or was unprepared; however, as I have had time to consider his behavior throughout that day, I suspect that he was speaking, not to the room, but to “the record,” as he kept saying throughout the day. Mr. Sotomayor’s agenda will likely become clearer in the weeks following the hearing, but I was left with the distinct impression that his lines of questioning were designed to gather testimony that might help him discredit the entire proceedings. He improperly accused the judge of telling him that he would lose, but I have begun to suspect that he never actually believed he would win—not on January 10th, that is.

It was evident from the start that Judge Popejoy was familiar with the minute details of this case. For this reason, the motions and original complaints were referred to in the hearings but were scarcely read from.

Mr. Sotomayor set the stage with Emily’s testimony, questioning her first about specific dates and then about the line in the complaints that alleged “repressed memories.” Mr. Sotomayor also called the plaintiffs’ attorney Jon Mincieli to the stand to answer questions related to his due diligence in filing the complaints (a frustrating endeavor for him since Mr. Mincieli did not, in fact, file the initial complaints). Then, in his final arguments, Mr. Sotomayor referred to the motions to compel that had not been complied with due to the non-suit, stating that he believed that the plaintiffs were still in violation of that order regardless of the voluntary dismissal. These four items seemed to be the primary focus of Gothard’s attorney for each of the seven hearings.

I don’t know why he asked about the dates the plaintiffs had last communicated with Gothard. He asked it of four of the plaintiffs, and he followed that line of questioning with questions about the “repressed memories” allegations, which he questioned every plaintiff about. His use of the word “memory” was erratic, and he said it well over one hundred times. (Yes, I counted!) He sometimes referred to just “memories” and sometimes to “suppressed memories” and “repressed memories”—all of which are defined differently: “memory” being the human ability to remember the past, “suppression” being a conscious forced avoidance of a memory, and “repression” being an unconscious dissociative-amnesia due to trauma or severe stress. The only term used in the complaints was “repressed memories,” and it was paired with “and/or did not know the injuries were caused by the abuse.” The “and/or” distinction seemed carefully ignored by Sotomayor, and the interchangeable use of the memory terms seemed to be deliberate carelessness. It seemed to imply an attack on the credibility of the repression claims, although the way Mr. Sotomayor approached this was to question the lack of official diagnosis by a medical professional of any condition that would give rise to this symptom of repression of memories, as well as a vigorous objection to the testimony of those plaintiffs who volunteered their diagnoses.

Mr. Sotomayor’s obsession with the “repression” complaint may have been designed to cast uncertainty on a questionable diagnosis or lack thereof, but I can’t think why he would bother, except perhaps to confuse witnesses who might not be familiar with the case law, using that confusion to launch his allegation that the women’s agenda was to destroy Gothard, thereby eliciting some kind of confession from them. Perhaps he was hoping to establish that all the plaintiffs chose to sacrifice the privacy of their personal lives and selves to a very personal public accounting in a civil court due to some unnamed and unaccountable hatred of a man who did them no harm, and that the “repressed memories” were made up to bypass the SOL. That there would be nearly twenty individuals willing to falsify memories in order to do so is incredible to me, but what is more incredible to me was Mr. Sotomayor’s fractured attempt to discredit the women. He never seemed to argue that Gothard did not do the things he was accused of. Not one doctor or medical professional was called upon to testify regarding the accuracy of repressed memories—or for any other reason. And, as the judge later mentioned in his ruling, “their allegations of emotional distress and sexual contact and the like are sufficient for them to have a reason as to why they might want Mr. Gothard not to stay in the position that he is in.” Why wouldn’t they want him to leave his position? Why wouldn’t they want him never again to be in a position to use other women as he once used them?

If Mr. Sotomayor’s approach to these hearings was to unsettle and confuse the plaintiffs, he certainly gave it his all. Each of them had a moment during their testimony that seemed to leave them off balance, but, for the most part, they maintained their composure and demonstrated the collective clarity and intelligence they have shown throughout the entirety of this lawsuit.

Emily’s best moment was when Mr. Sotomayor attempted to call her out on her choice to go public with her involvement in the lawsuit. He must have been unaware of the details she revealed, because, in retrospect, any agenda he may have had was surely overshadowed by her astonishing testimony. He started by clarifying that she wanted to protect her identity due to her ongoing involvement with pro-Gothard individuals, and then he asked her to admit that this was her sole reason, that her assertion that she feared retaliation by her father was false.

She answered, “The reason I came out with my name is because Gaffney called my father and told him I was involved in the lawsuit before it was dismissed.”

Mr. Sotomayor seemed taken aback and immediately objected to her answer, to which the judge responded, “Overruled. You asked for it.”

“Okay,” he responded, “So your father told you this or—”

“My father called me,” Emily replied. “My father called me immediately after Gaffney called him and wanted to talk.”

The obvious objection at this point could be hearsay—that Emily was relying on what she’d been told by a third party (her father). But, as the judge had said, Mr. Sotomayor had opened the door, so the best he could do was try to discredit her account. “That is what your father told you; is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“So you never heard from Mr. Gaffney. This was something that you believed to be accurate solely based upon your father’s statement to you, right?”

Emily’s responses came back just as quickly as Mr. Sotomayor posed his questions. “I have a voicemail from Gaffney left on my mother’s cell phone that said he called my father. I listened to it.” Mic drop.

Mr. Sotomayor pressed harder on Emily during his cross examination, interrupting her so often that the judge called him out for it. Her worst moments, though, were when Mr. Sotomayor pressed her on dates. At one point, anxious to get it right and not being able to recall exactly, she seemed to freeze on the witness stand. I could understand her distress—the way Mr. Sotomayor pelted her with his questions made even my heart pound. When she was dismissed from the stand, Emily seemed somehow taller to me. She had faced Gothard and a difficult attorney, and she’d risen above the verbal assault like a boss. But her eyes were wide, and she seemed a little shell-shocked. Out of respect for the courtroom rules, nobody spoke to her aloud, but there were side hugs, nods and whispers, and notes of encouragement. These silent demonstrations of support toward the plaintiffs took place after every testimony. So much love was given and accepted on the plaintiffs’ side of the courtroom throughout the day.

Sanctions against Emily / Jane Doe III (pg 16-26)
Response to Sanctions by Emily / Jane Doe III

Continue reading Part Two