"Telling the stories of institutional cover-up of abuse can be a difficult thing, but most victims whom I’ve interviewed would say, by doing so, they helped make things better."
Kristen Lombardi, a staff writer and investigative reporter at the Center for Public Integrity (CPI) since 2007, has worked as a journalist for more than 13 years, mainly at alternative newsweeklies. Her work has explored such social issues as the family courts, criminal justice and child abuse. As a staff writer at The Phoenix (Boston), Lombardi was widely credited with helping to expose the clergy sexual-abuse scandal in Boston.
Her investigative reporting has been honored by the Association of Alternative Newsweeklies, the New England Press Association, and The Livingston Awards, and she was awarded a fellowship from the Dart Center for Journalism and Trauma for her coverage of abuse.
How do you get beyond the single sex abuse story to a much bigger, informative story that puts the problem in context, as you did with the clergy abuse stories?
Part of it had to do with me being a reporter at an alternative newsweekly. Back in 2001, when I started digging into the clergy sexual-abuse scandal, I was working at the Boston Phoenix and was always looking for stories the daily newspapers weren’t covering. By then, both dailies had written the occasional story about victims accusing John Geoghan — the pedophile priest about whom I wrote and who has since died in prison — of child molestation.
The question these stories alluded to, but never answered was what the Boston archdiocese had known about Geoghan’s abuse, and when. So when I began digging, it was my main question. And it’s a question that naturally takes reporters beyond the single sex-abuse story to the bigger-picture institutional response.
How can a journalist gain access to a victim of sexual abuse and build a relationship, in order to produce a thoughtful, sensitive, well-researched piece?
With every investigative piece I’ve ever done involving sex-abuse victims, I’ve gained access to them through the people they trust — their lawyers, their advocates, their family members. Unless a victim calls me on the phone and says, “Hey, I want to tell my story” — a rarity — I’ve never reached out to a victim directly first. Instead, I go through other channels.
This approach requires a lot of patience because you’re dealing with intermediaries — you reach out to the lawyer, for instance, who weighs your sincerity, and then, hopefully, contacts the victim. Sometimes, when that doesn’t work, I write snail-mail letters to victims explaining what I’m working on and providing past articles involving sexual abuse so they have a sense of who I am as a reporter. And when that doesn’t work, I pick up the phone — a voice helps. By then, a victim has gotten your letter and knows what you want and perhaps just needs to hear your voice.
But I’ve found that victims are much more willing to not just open up to you, but give you access to case records and all the documentation you want if you give them the power to decide whether to contact you or not. If you go through the trouble of writing them, or of reaching out to those they trust, they will separate you from any past reporter with whom they’ve had a bad experience.
What are the ethical/legal/professional considerations when interviewing victims of sexual abuse, or any other kind of abuse or trauma?
Well, there are probably too many to contemplate right now. What I’m keenly aware of during the interview is that this person is re-living the trauma by sharing his or her story, and I don’t want to re-traumatize anyone. That doesn’t mean I don’t ask probing questions; it means I think about when and how to do so.
When I interview a victim, I block out chunks of time because I’ve found that the best way to build a relationship and get people to open up is to just sit and listen. Even an hour might not be enough. People need to feel comfortable talking about sexual abuse, a very uncomfortable topic. I don’t ask too many questions at first. I loosen people up by encouraging them to talk about themselves. Then I steer the conversation toward the abuse, and let them first tell me what they want to. I always offer the chance for victims to use a pseudonym; more often than not, those who say they’ll only talk on the condition of anonymity decide, after speaking with you, that they want to go public, so I never make that a condition.
Whenever the abuse is documented — in a complaint, for instance — I seek access to those documents. Most victims I’ve interviewed have gone to court so there are court files, but I try to gain access to other documents like personal letters and journal entries. Reporting on these cases makes a journalist vulnerable legally, so you want to verify. If there isn’t paper to back up anecdotes, then I talk with friends, family members, or institutional sources who may have known about the abuse. I just try to be as honest and as upfront with victims as possible about what I’m writing, which I think is a valuable principle for reporters generally.
Who are other sources? With whom, other than the victim, could a reporter forge connections?
Lawyers who represent victims of abuse are my best sources; they tend to specialize in these types of cases and to know a lot. Sexual assault advocates are generally weary of the press, but they can tell when a reporter’s interest is earnest and will open up to you. If there are federal or state legislators who seem to be sponsoring all the bills that the advocates like, or who head up the committees dealing with vulnerable populations — like children, elderly, the mentally ill — I try to reach out to them.
On the one hand, you have to be proactive because most abuse victims remain in the shadows. On the other hand, I’ve found that once you start covering sexual assault — and you do it well — people who work in this field will notice you because there aren’t too many reporters willing to do it.
Is the data out there -- federal studies, major academic research, reliable advocacy statistics -- on sex abuse?
There is a ton of data out there. I always start with the researchers that the victims’ advocates recommend, or I go to the National Institute of Justice Web site or do searches in the academic journals. I always find there are way too many studies to read so do your homework and figure out who is getting the federal funds for researching abuse in whatever arena you’re covering -- or who is respected by all sides of an issue and focus on them. They’ve got a credibility beyond reproach.
What has been your experience with family courts, and how sex abuse cases are handled? How effective are family advocates -- guardians ad litem -- on whom family courts rely to examine child-abuse claims?
In 2003, I wrote a 9,000-word investigative piece on the family courts and how the system can fail to protect children from abuse. As part of my reporting, I discovered cases where the guardians ad litem didn’t seem to be responding in the best interests of the child — the client. I haven’t focused on that topic since then, although I know there are plenty of family court reformers who believe that guardians ad litem are too easily influenced by one parent or another, and don’t necessarily represent the child well. Or they think guardians ad litem are not trained enough in the nuances of sexual abuse, or are given too much power by judges in family-court cases. The system, overall, seemed hidden, with its business often conducted behind closed doors, and that’s not necessarily a good thing.
How can reporting on sex abuse issues protect children from sexual predators and educate the public about preventative measures in a community?
The one thing I can say is that social change often comes from good, solid journalism. Telling the stories of institutional cover-up of abuse can be a difficult thing, but most victims whom I’ve interviewed would say, by doing so, they helped make things better.
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