My thoughts about the Scandal at Penn State

I didn't know -- or think -- much about sexual abuse against children until I became a professional psychic. It wasn't something people talked about very much and it had, literally, just never come up in anything in my world up until that time. At the age of 32, I started to work professionally; my career took off like a rocket, too . . I had a huge client base and a morning show radio slot at one of the biggest rock stations in the Midwest within 4 months of even admitting in public I could do this (that probably would never happen to anybody now) . . . anyway, as a result of getting so popular so fast, all of a sudden I had hundreds of people lined up waiting to see me.

And in this big line, many were victims of sexual trauma.

At first, I didn't quite know what to think of it. Dozens of people, literally, were telling me they had no memories of huge blocks of time from their childhood. I had a client who was a psychologist, with a Ph.D., telling me she had no memories, of any kind, before she was 16 !! I truly was baffled . . . I could do the readings but, as a trend, it confused me -- quite a bit. Within 2 years I was, at least in Ohio, a big big deal but, as I have done repeatedly over the years, at the height of my success, I simply vanished. Went in to seclusion, canceled all my appointments, turned off the phone. Poof -- gone.

Fast forward 2 years and a new technology appeared on the scene -- the 900 number. I decided to go to work at the 900 number and little by little perhaps go back to being a psychic. Round Two, same thing as Round One. Within a few months I had a national TV spot as a spokesperson for "Kebrina's Psychic Answer", a newspaper column and fairs and shows every week somewhere throughout Ohio. And once again -- only this time I was getting calls from all over the world -- more and more AND MORE cases involving invasive sexual acts against children -- gang rapes of 3 year olds, sexual torture of pre-schoolers, murders and abductions for little babies, sometimes 1 or 2 years old. It was too much for me. I couldn't do it -- one of the reasons I DO NOT want to do criminal cases anymore -- and so, poof, adios psychic world, never to return . . . and probably would not have returned had I not lost a child myself 14 years later.

I bring this up for two reasons: one, sexual abuse is widespread. It happens all over.

And, two, the effects, on the victims as well as the families of the victims, is profound. Devestation, long-lasting . . . heart breaking.

Penn State covered up this crime because of one reason -- and one reason only. They did not want to tarnish the BRAND PENN STATE . . the throw-back uniforms, the Mr. Rogers coach, clean wholesome family entertainment against rebel schools who weren't so upstanding as the happy folks from Happy Valley.

The administration at Penn State -- no different than the Catholic Church -- did not want their donors to feel squeamish about dropping money in the collection plate. It was a crime, hidden away, because of the huge amounts of money involved. EVERYONE who helped cover this up -- and delay the healing of the poor little boys victimized by this man, not to mention endanger so many others -- deserve their fate.

I stood up once, blew my whistle, and watched my corporate safety net vanish and, trust me, it hurt. But . . . better to sleep at night on somebody's couch with a clear mind than in a million dollar home with a troubled heart.

Both Penn State, and the Catholic Church, have failed us. We need, together, to help take a stand so that, in the future, no one else can do this with impunity and we need to protect, in whatever way we can, the innocence of our children.

I have worked on rape cases and murder cases for children with the parents sitting in the room looking right at me. There is no more pressure in the world than sitting there, trying to say what you see . . .

I wrote this poem almost 20 years ago, inspired by a rape case for a 3 year old girl, gang raped in the basement by a bunch of 14 year old boys :(

The Gold Watch
(or: why I stopped being a psychic)


Two little hands held tight like
a wet prayer. Paint cans whisper
hollow
tunes to her back; a tool bench, hands now idle, just
steps
away to her right
like silent sentinels.
The little red dress. Precious.
Just precious.
Black shiny shoes specked
with red and all is silent once more.

He spreads the photos
out across the dining
room table
Silence like a knife
It is his job
to take
these sprinkles of history and arrange
them, collage-like, into a pattern.
He is an archeologist of the dead.
The supplicants come heart in tooth
arms pasted loosely
to the left side
The mother's voice,
as always, is deep, throaty
like a wounded dog.
He sits
silent for a moment then gets up,
walks over
to grab a box of tissues.

She takes the tissues and blows her nose.
Phantoms on a carpeted walkway whisper to her as she walks.
The pictures will still come
to them both but no matter how they paint
the scene
the little red dress will never come
clean
again

the voice, like a wounded dog, he hears it
even
now

* I wrote this poem originally back in the early '90's shortly after I decided to "retire" as a professional psychic. I made an infomercial for a 1-900 number in 1992 and for about seven or eight months I worked on the phone lines for them and as one of their "featured clairvoyants"--clairvoyants are the Ferrarri's of the psychic world in that they can "see things" as opposed to other types of readers who go on impressons or feelings--I was usually the person who ended up working on any cases involving missing persons or criminal issues such as murder or abuse.

Incredibly, to me, (as I had a baby girl of my own), there were an amazing number of cases that I worked on involving abuse with children--very young children (two, three and four years old). Rape, physical and mental abuse, kidnapping and even murder.

The poem above was written specifically in response to a case I worked on in my private practice for a three year old girl who was raped in her basement, a scene I described in great (and later quite verifiable) detail but it is applicable to all my cases back then involving young children.

Eventually, after doing SO many of these types of readings I felt as if I had to stop. All gifts come with a price . . .

Now that more and more of these cases are, once again, coming my way I remember the first big "psychic go-round" and so I am sharing this poem from those dark days of mine all those many years ago.

Writing this -- even after all these years -- still kills me. Only because I SAW it . . . how much worse to have lived it :(

This can't be covered up. Our children deserve a world in which they can BE children.