Several months ago I did something I rarely do, I turned on the news. I prefer to live in my little bubble where the world is sunshine and roses, so typically when my husband turns it on I slip away to my room with a good book. But one particular night I stayed and watched, and learned of a local high school student who’d been charged with sexually assaulting two four year-old boys in my city. It’s heartbreaking, but its not unusual to hear of pedophiles being convicted…another reason I steer away from the news.
But there was something different about this particular story. A group of about 100 or so people, mostly high school students themselves, were gathering at the school of the accused, Greg Kelley. The anger and passion I saw in their faces and heard in their voices was something you’d naturally expect in a child molestation case, however, the anger wasn’t directed at Greg Kelley. The anger was directed at those who “unjustly accused him” — the children. I was shocked, and for a moment it was as if the television had sucked the breath from my lungs. How was it possible that so many could doubt these children, and how could they be so cruel to doubt them so publicly?