The Wolf in the Mall

A Visit with a Cult Leader

This experience happened just a few days ago, and I wanted to memorialize it here. I don’t believe I needed it to happen in order to know that I have healed in many ways, but I do believe that God, in His kindness, allowed me my desire to face my past in a very tangible way, to see how much has changed in the last 12 years, and continue the journey forward.

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Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves. Matthew 7:15

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I ran into my old cult leader (The Wolf) at a mall on Saturday.

I was visiting family in the town where he still lives, and while there, we wanted to take a walk, but it was very cold, so we decided to walk around the mall. Someone told me he sometimes walks the mall, too.

As my husband drove my daughter and me to the mall, I silently prayed and asked God if I could see my old abuser. I wanted to face him, and just see if I could do it, and maybe say something meaningful, although after all the therapy work the last year, I felt that I really didn’t have much to say to him.

We walked through J.C. Penney and out into the main hall area, walked a while, and then someone pointed him out. There he was. He was wearing a black button up shirt and black pants, doing something on his phone, his hair was bright white, and that was the biggest change I noticed about him since the last time I saw him. Our group was walking past understandably ignoring him, but I knew it was my chance, so I said to my husband, “I want to talk to him. Can I talk to him?” I don’t know why I felt like I needed to ask, but it seemed like such a big choice to make after 12 years.

I walked over to him, said hello, I stared at him quietly, and I let him recognize me. It took him a minute. The last in person interaction we had was a hug goodbye in January 2013 before I took my last road trip from his house to law school. It was January 4, 2025, and I just stood there, my eyes telling him we all know who you are and what you did to me and the people I love. His calculating eyes were reading me to see what I was going to do.

I felt calm.

He took his glasses off and craned his head back to get a better look at me, like a kindly grandpa. But there it was—the deeply cold, heartless, predator, able to pretend that nothing ever happened. Twenty-five years of abuse and trauma never happened. He looked over at Steve who had Marigold on his shoulders, and another family member who was standing next to me. He tried to hug my family member and was soundly rejected, and I know my body language said not to come near. I have had too many nightmares to let him that close ever again.

“Ah, hello there. You here visiting family?”

The family you kept me from for over a decade? My internal response was almost to boiling, but I knew it was pointless to allow my anger to rise to the surface. Not worth it.

“Yes.”

“Oh how nice,” he said it like I’ve always been able to visit my family, and we were never broken and estranged.

He knows he made them shun me. He knows he lied to them about me and tore my family apart on purpose. But I have nothing to prove to him and I don’t need him to acknowledge anything for me to feel validated anymore.

I was relieved to know I didn’t need to try to formulate an argument against him.

I realized he was looking at Steve and Marigold questioningly, and I resented the fact that he could see them. I didn’t want him to have the privilege of casting so much as a glance at my precious family. But I introduced them to him with a mix of pride and protectiveness, and a deepened realization of the beautiful life I have now.

“What do you do now?”

“Enjoy my life,” I said with a pointed tone.

He acted wounded. “I was just wondering if you’re working, or…” his voice trailed off. He was uncomfortable. I think it’s because he didn’t know what I was going to do. He knows I have a lot I could say. But I didn’t say it.

I must admit, I felt a little pang of guilt when he acted hurt, which just goes to show that the danger of such a person is strong, whether you know their game inside and out or are completely unaware.

I answered, “I stay home with my daughter, and I have a podcast that helps people who have been spiritually abused recover and keep their faith.” Thanks to you.

“Well, that is good.”

I know you know what I do. I know what you think of it and me. Are we just going to have a regular conversation?

I was wondering where I was going to go or what I was going to say next, but all my past desire to tell him everything he’s ever done, and it would take a very long time, just wasn’t there. I didn’t feel like telling him to repent. I didn’t feel like trying to do anything. So I just stayed calm and, wanting to really take in and see that he has no power over me anymore, and notice that my body was not entering into fight or flight anymore.

Then, he shifted, again, to victim.

I know they don’t want to talk to me,” he gestured over to some family members quite a ways away whom he had recently terribly abused.

“With good reason,” I met his gaze steadily.

Just like old times, he turned on me, and instantly began his usual manipulations, attacks, and gaslighting, but I stopped him. I stopped my former abuser from talking. It still is mind blowing to me that I got to do that, since he had only ever silenced me for most of my life.

“No. I don’t have to listen to you anymore, and I am taking my voice back. I wish you the best.”

I looked him in the eyes, smiled, and walked away.

I was a little light headed as I walked, but I was also excited. I had faced him. I was ok. God had really done so much healing in me.

As I neared the rest of our group, I turned to say something to Steve, and noticed that he, with Marigold still on his shoulders, was angrily speaking to my old abuser. I walked back over to join the conversation. I don’t know why exactly. I didn’t have anything to say, but I was curious, and I also wanted to take Marigold away. As I neared them, I heard my husband’s voice passionately speaking and advocating for me and the many other wounded.

“The wrath of God is being stored against you, if you don’t repent. You have hurt so many people and you are extremely evil,” was what I heard, as I neared the conversation. Steve also wouldn’t really let him talk, either.

But when he did speak, he said, discrediting me and so many others, “Well, what you’ve heard is just stories, just stories. They just tell stories.”

I reached up to get Marigold from Steve’s shoulders because I didn’t want her around the intensity. But Steve was done, and we walked away together.

That was a satisfying scene. I know and Steve knows that his confrontation was probably pointless. For a while, one of my biggest fears was that my abuser would somehow one day meet my husband and convince him that I was a lying Jezebel. And although he tried that right there, by telling my husband that I was a liar and making up stories, Steve continued to confront him without wavering. (I expect nothing less from my husband!) It was quite a sight to see.

That night, I went to sleep, exhausted, but peaceful, and had no nightmares, no panic attacks. I used to have nightmares and panic attacks in my sleep if I simply talked about the abuse of my past. But that day, I had personally interacted with the one who had tried for many years to destroy and exploit me for his own gain, and my mind, heart, and body were at peace. What amazing things God has done!

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Thus says the Lord God, Behold, I am against the shepherds… I will rescue my sheep from their mouths, that they may not be food for them. For thus says the Lord God: Behold, I, I myself will search for my sheep and will seek them out… and I will rescue them… Ezekiel 34:10-12

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If you’re new to my story, I wrote an article summarizing it here at The Humble Skeptic. I also have a podcast (hosted here on Substack, but available anywhere you listen to podcasts), and you can hear an introduction to what I am doing with Reconstructing Your Faith here.