Part 2: Becoming a pawn in the culture war, Ashley hides her abuse from the world

Butch and Sandy Kimmerling wasted no time.

Soon after child welfare officials voted to allow a gay man to adopt the foster child who had been living in the Kimmerlings’ home for five years, Butch and Sandy contacted their pastor.

On Aug. 26, 1998, the day after the adoption of Ashley and her three brothers was OK’d, Pastor Brad Brizendine wrote a biting letter that was peppered with boldface and italicized phrases. It lambasted child welfare officials for having “little or no signs of heartfelt concern for the moral well-being of the children.” Area churches and media received the letter.

What Brizendine didn’t know was the man the pastor was supporting was secretly using 8-year-old Ashley for his own sexual gratification.

No one in the child welfare system knew what Butch was doing to Ashley. Were signs missed? It is hard to tell, but one thing is certain: When it came to Ashley’s well-being, America’s political and cultural divide only added to the trauma that would change her forever.

Brizendine, pastor of the Center of Faith Church in Anderson, called for area churches to “support the effort to intercept this moral injustice.”

“Is this a suitable and acceptable environment for our children, who for the most part have been abused, neglected and even molested,” Brizendine wrote. “Are we really concerned about their future and wholesome development? Or have our most needy children become a ‘pawn’ on the gameboard of politics and bureaucracy.”

He signed the letter “upholding righteousness.”

Battle lines were quickly drawn. Craig Peterson wanted to adopt Ashley and her three brothers. Brizendine, the Kimmerlings and others were bent on stopping him.

A media storm began.

In interviews with state and local media, Butch and Sandy argued it would be destructive for Ashley to be raised by two gay men — Craig and his partner Richard Weaver. They did not refer to her by name.

The Kimmerlings’ decision to publicize their unhappiness was extraordinary. Typically, proceedings involving the foster care system are kept confidential. The public scrutiny put officials on edge.

Family case manager Janice Heiss faxed a copy of Brizendine’s letter to an attorney, warning they may have a “community upset.”

“No details as to exactly who they are, or why they’re not happy,” Heiss wrote.

'Smacked me in the face'

Craig was scheduled to have his first meeting with Ashley’s three brothers, who lived in another foster home. Officials canceled it.

The situation, Craig said, “just smacked me in the face.”

He could understand if people were questioning his credentials, his criminal history or his finances — all of which were “squeaky clean.” No, they were making a big deal out of his sexual orientation. He felt they were making terrible assumptions without knowing him or knowing how he would care for Ashley and her brothers.

The Indianapolis man was nearing 40, and although his job as an associate vice president in corporate sales had been personally and financially rewarding, he felt something was missing. He wanted a family.

“I'm making more money than I could ever possibly spend on myself,” Craig remembered thinking. “And it became a matter of: Do I go buy a German sports car, or do I adopt children?”

Cars lose their worth pretty quickly, Craig reasoned, but the value of children and family continues to grow. In his adoption questionnaire, Craig wrote that he wanted to “share my values with others not as fortunate as me.”

In Craig’s mind, having children was a logical next step. And he was nothing if not logical.

Craig believed in balance, wellness and routine. The tall, lean man woke up every morning around 6 a.m., went to bed at 10 p.m. and ran three or four days a week on the treadmill in his home gym.

Initially, Craig thought he would adopt one child, maybe two. But an adoption specialist urged him to adjust his expectations.

“If you don't want to wait forever,” the woman warned, “you need to consider the children no one else will take.”

Craig had seen a study that indicated that the most difficult children to place were siblings and black boys with special needs. His request to adopt Ashley and her three brothers was approved, but now the adoptions were at risk.

“We feel like we gave birth to four children on Tuesday and now they are on life support,” Craig wrote in an email Aug. 27, 1998, to Heiss. “Richard and I have spent eight months ‘claiming’ these children since we first saw them in the picture book last January.”

Craig asked whether the involvement of their own pastor or others in Indianapolis would help. “These people are all normal, heterosexual individuals who would not be an immediate threat to anyone in Anderson,” he said.

Craig asked for a meeting. The next day, at the child welfare office in Anderson, he felt confident the adoptions would go through. After all, Ashley and her brothers needed a home. And he and his partner were the only people offering to provide it.

“In my opinion, I was doing the Christian thing and opening my heart and my door to these children and providing an environment of unconditional love,” Craig recalled.

But the committee’s previous approval wasn’t as firm as he thought.

Discussing Ashley's future

Craig and Richard brought family and friends to the meeting. State and local officials were there. The Kimmerlings, who declined to be interviewed for this series, did not attend. It’s unclear whether they were invited.

The conversation focused on whether Craig should adopt Ashley.

Craig told child welfare officials he was concerned Ashley was suffering mental abuse in the Kimmerlings’ home. He said the Kimmerlings might have frightened her concerning his sexuality. He asked whether she was receiving counseling.

He wondered why critics only seemed concerned about Ashley, not her brothers.

“Here they were so concerned about the 8-year-old girl coming to the home of the gay man and no one raised any concerns about the three boys — who were 3, 4 and 5 at the time  — coming to my home,” Craig recalled, still perturbed by the conversation more than two decades later. “I almost want to say, ‘Timeout. I think we're not discussing the right issue here. That if we’re concerned about something inappropriate happening, should we be more concerned about these three little boys than the girl?’ That was never even brought up.”

Craig threw out every proposal he could think of to counteract the concerns. He presented a proposed daily schedule for the kids. He volunteered to let officials visit his home on a regular basis. He pitched bringing female role models into his home to spend time with Ashley. He offered to find her the best therapist.

Still, Craig could see he was fighting a losing battle. He was hurt and disappointed to lose Ashley, but at the same time, he had never met her. He didn’t want the loss of one child to become the loss of all four.

Holly Hunt, a children’s advocate who worked with Ashley, could read the room, too. She pivoted the conversation from Ashley to the little girl’s three brothers.

“We’ve all kind of talked about Ashley,” she said, “but what about the three boys?”

Bruce Stansberry, director of the Madison County Division of Family and Children, said that no decision had been made regarding the children’s placement — even though the committee had approved the adoption days earlier. Stansberry indicated that “all sides were being considered.”

The adoptions had not yet been approved in court.

The meeting closed without resolving the adoption issue. Officials decided to visit Ashley, schedule her an appointment with a counselor and revisit the conversation a week later.

As the adoption officials sought more input, the Kimmerlings changed tactics — to not only block Craig's adoption but keep Ashley with them.

‘She wants to stay with us’

Butch and Sandy told reporters they intended to file a petition to adopt Ashley themselves.

They said they hesitated to do so before — despite the many times they were asked — because they felt they were too old.

Initially, the Kimmerlings said they wanted to adopt Ashley to prevent Craig from doing so. Later, Butch said they would have filed the petition no matter what.

“She wants to stay with us,” Butch told the Madison County Line. “We are Mom and Dad to her. If they were to remove her now and put her in anybody’s home, it would be devastating. She would be giving up her home, her friends, her family. She even tells our 13-year-old grandson that she is his aunt. We know in our spirits that she belongs with us.”

Child welfare officials expressed concern with the sudden turnaround in the Kimmerlings’ thought process. There also was brief concern when the Kimmerlings did not allow officials to speak with Ashley alone, but officials eventually gained access to her.

Officials felt as if they were in a legal bind. They feared the Kimmerlings might sue if they allowed Craig to adopt Ashley. Craig and Richard might sue if they were prohibited from adopting the boys.

To avoid either outcome, they were willing to compromise.

“I think these kids should be placed together, but am willing to concede if Sandy and Butch want to adopt,” Carolyn Doss, a supervisor with the Marion County Division of Family and Children, wrote in an Aug. 31, 1998, email to Heiss. “There is an argument for that since she has been with them for so long. Her bond with them is certainly stronger than her bond with her brothers.”

Looking back, Ashley felt as if no one cared what she wanted. If the 8-year-old had a choice, she would have returned to her biological parents. Since that wasn’t an option, Ashley preferred the Kimmerlings’ home because it was what she knew. Craig’s home was an unknown.

“I was spoiled pretty much rotten,” Ashley recalled. “If it wasn't for the fact that I was being molested the whole time, it probably would have been the ideal home for someone.”

After completing the normal adoption procedure, then reopening it, Stansberry said the new hearings were an attempt to ensure they were doing what was best for Ashley.

“The issue is not whether we let gays adopt,” he told The Herald Bulletin. “We try to find an adoptive home for a specific set of children. We want to make sure the child’s best interests are followed.”

Child welfare officials met again Aug. 31, 1998.

Butch, who continued to sexually abuse Ashley, was portrayed as a sympathetic character. He had resisted becoming attached to Ashley, one counselor pointed out, because he had allowed himself to love another foster child only to see that child leave the home.

Officials said moving forward with Craig’s approved adoption would be difficult without support from the Kimmerlings. And the campaign against gay adoption only complicated matters.

“What the foster parents & church have instilled into her since the decision to move would make a successful placement now very difficult for her,” according to meeting notes.

The consensus: Ashley belonged with the Kimmerlings. The committee hoped the siblings would stay in touch but doubted it would happen.

Stansberry made his decision: Craig would adopt Ashley’s three brothers. The Kimmerlings would adopt Ashley.

Ashley would stay with her abuser.

Image

Craig Peterson and his three sons, Brandon, Michael and Andrew, visit their biological mother Kim Guiden in the Rockville Correctional Facility in Rockville, Indiana. INDYSTAR FILE IMAGE

Butch in the spotlight

It is difficult to know what was going through Butch’s head during that period. But even as Butch was molesting Ashley, he put himself in the spotlight of a campaign against adoption by same-sex couples.

Two states, Florida and New Hampshire, already had banned gay adoption. The Kimmerlings and Brizendine hoped to add Indiana to the list.

In one letter to the editor, Butch and Sandy argued “boys need fathers so they can develop their own sexual identity; they need mothers so they can learn how to interact with the opposite sex. Girls need mothers so they can learn what it is to be a woman; they need fathers so they know how to interact with the opposite sex.

“We don’t believe that this can be done with two daddies or two mommies,” they wrote. “It is the right of all children to have a chance to grow and develop the way God intended them to.”

By early September 1998, Brizendine said more than 25 churches pledged to support the Kimmerlings’ cause. The pastor anticipated gathering 10,000 signatures on a petition to ban gay adoption.

“It’s not God’s way,” Sandy told one reporter. “God created Adam and Eve. Not Adam and Steve.”

State legislators Woody Burton, R-Greenwood, and Jack Lutz, R-Anderson, supported a ban, as did the mayor of Anderson. In a letter printed on city letterhead, Mayor J. Mark Lawler said he opposed “any adoption outside of a traditional family setting.” Gay adoption, he argued, undermined the family unit.

They faced vocal opposition from those who supported same-sex adoption, and both sides wielded religion during the debates.

About 200 people attended a rally where they sang and prayed for legislators to adopt laws allowing same-sex couples to marry and adopt. The event was planned by a coalition of 14 Indiana churches.

Child welfare officials felt the Kimmerlings’ grandstanding might be harmful to Ashley.

“Now I’m mad,” Doss, a supervisor involved in Ashley's child welfare case, dashed off in an email the morning after the Kimmerlings appeared in a local television interview. Doss said she wanted to find out what action they could take against the Kimmerlings for their inexcusable breach of confidentiality.

“The first time was bad enough,” Doss wrote, “but they now are getting what they want and Ashley is still being paraded around to satify (sic) their preduices (sic).”

The agency later adopted an action plan: Advise the Kimmerlings that their violation of confidentiality may have had a detrimental impact on Ashley and tell them not to do it again.

Stansberry, the director, said that he understood the decision did not satisfy employees’ concerns.

“A related issue for these foster parents as well as others is the perception of us ostracizing foster parents who complain or upset us,” Stansberry wrote in an email. “Please think about this issue and how we can deal with it.”

Sometimes the Kimmerlings’ interviews included Ashley.

When she overheard Sandy complain to a Madison County Line reporter about wrinkles, Ashley exclaimed: “You’re not old, Mom. You’re beautiful.”

The little girl also shared her faith.

Ashley told the Madison County Line: “Perhaps God lets bad things happen so that He can show how great He really is.”

‘Is there anything we can do?’

The Kimmerlings' adoption of Ashley was finalized Dec. 23, 1998. Ashley Michelle Johnson became Ashley Marie Kimmerling.

Ashley, betrayed by the only father she had ever known, was far from being the happy little girl portrayed by her triumphant new parents.

Over the next few months, Ashley’s grades plummeted from A’s to F’s. She misbehaved constantly, ignoring directions, banging doors, kicking and throwing things. Once, when the Kimmerlings left their van running in the garage, she shifted it into drive and sat there as it hit the wall separating the garage and family room.

Brizendine said he and his wife, Joan, tried to get to the bottom of Ashley’s behaviors. Ashley doesn't remember the conversation.

“Ashley,” the pastor coaxed, “is there anything we can do to help you? What’s going on?”

“No,” the little girl replied. “Nothing, nothing.”

Brizendine looked at Ashley for a moment.

“If anything was wrong,” he began, “you were being hurt or something was happening to you that you just didn’t know how to handle and you feel trapped or somebody at school’s hurting you … would you tell Pastor Brad and Joan?”

Ashley’s trauma was all too real. It wasn’t just a dream of violence and neglect. It wasn’t just a feeling of being extra. She was 8. She felt alone. And she was being sexually abused and betrayed by her father.

Ashley sat silently, plump tears rolling down her cheeks.

She never answered yes or no.

Call USA TODAY reporter Marisa Kwiatkowski at (317) 444-6135. Follow her on Twitter: @IndyMarisaK.

[This story was originally published by IndyStar.]