ROANOKE TIMES

                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: FRIDAY, February 18, 1994                   TAG: 9402180258
SECTION: VIRGINIA                    PAGE: A1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: MIKE HUDSON STAFF WRITER
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Long


18 YEARS OF PAIN, SHAME LED VICTIM TO SPEAK NOTE: ABOVE

When Sarah was 13, she thought Jim Kimrey was awfully close to God. He was her minister at a small church in rural Botetourt County.

"I thought there was God, Jesus, the Holy Ghost and Jim Kimrey. That's how high on a pedestal I put him."

Then, one night when she was baby-sitting his daughter, he took off Sarah's clothes and fondled her breasts and genitals.

For years, she thought she was to blame. "I just felt like the dirtiest person to ever walk the face of the Earth - to make a preacher fall from grace."

But nearly two decades later, she says, she realizes that any shame should be his. She says she now believes Kimrey was a sick con artist who preyed on young girls and fooled the members of his flock.

"Now I realize what a scuzzball he was," she says. "To me, the man is the devil himself."

Sarah talked about Kimrey on Wednesday, one night before he was convicted of molesting her and another young church member in the mid-1970s. Investigators suspect two other girls also were sexually assaulted by Kimrey.

Sarah asked that her real name not be used in this story. She says the emotional wounds remain deep in her family and among members of her old church. But she says she wanted to talk about what Kimrey did to her, so people will understand why she came forward so many years later.

She's been through hell the past 18 years - nightmares, uncontrollable fears of men and ministers, a compulsion to get involved in bad relationships.

But after years of counseling, she decided she had to face Kimrey - to help her get on with her life.

And she decided she wanted him to pay for his crimes - so she might prevent him from preying on others.

Some people just don't understand. They ask her, "Why now?" Some of them are people she once went to church with. Not knowing she is one of Kimrey's victims, these folks ask her, "Why can't they let it alone?"

That makes her angry.

"Where were they when we needed them?" she asks. "They were supposed to be the adults - they were supposed to be our protectors. How dare they condemn us now? They don't even have an inkling of how it feels - the pain we went through. Not just at the moment it happened - but for 18 years. . . .

"Sometimes, I wonder how people can be so shallow."

Sarah was 12 when Kimrey first began preaching at Cave Rock Church of the Brethren. He was a smooth talker, a man who won people's trust. The women in the church pampered him and cooked for him.

Sarah says church members knew that he had served time in prison in North Carolina. But he convinced them that he really hadn't been at fault, and that he had paid his debt, anyhow.

She grew to revere her minister. She hoped to someday become a missionary.

Things changed one night in October 1975. Kimrey asked her to spend the night at his house to baby-sit his 2-year-old.

He said his wife was gone and he needed to make some calls on church members. Instead, he stayed home and watched television with Sarah. It's then that he forced himself on her.

He molested her a second time several months later.

She didn't tell anyone. But her life began to show symptoms of the anguish she was suffering. Her grades dropped. She had trouble getting along with people.

She wrote a poem, "Run Little Darling Run," about a girl who had been raped. Her mom and dad and sister read it, but they never guessed it was about her.

"Nobody ever answered [my distress signals]. Instead I got labeled as an incorrigible wild child. Nobody ever took the time to figure out why I was like that."

That was one of many screams. Two years after Kimrey assaulted Sarah, another girl in the church came forward and said Kimrey had molested her.

Sarah remembers vacuuming in her living room as her parents sat in two oversized antique chairs, debating whether to believe the girl or Kimrey.

Then her daddy asked her, "You baby-sat for him - has he ever tried anything with you?"

She pretended not to hear the question. Her father asked again.

She dropped the vacuum and ran into her room. That said it all.

"Daddy was ready to kill the man. Mom was trying to stop Daddy from going out to kill him and trying to comfort me at the same time."

Her parents confronted Kimrey. He denied everything.

Her father, a deacon, went to other church leaders to try to get Kimrey ousted.

A vote was called: Should Kimrey stay or go? The church's membership voted to keep him as their minister.

"I felt so betrayed," Sarah says now.

Her parents decided not to seek criminal charges or take her to a counselor. Her mother told her, "Put it behind you, and go on with your life."

Sarah wishes her parents had given her more support. But she understands it was hard on them. Times were different. Child abuse and sexual assault had yet to become widely publicized or discussed, especially in rural Virginia.

"I know my mom and dad probably have a lot of pain over it, because they wish they had done things differently. But it still hurts."

Sarah grew up, got married, had two sons, got divorced.

She went through a series of lousy relationships. "I kept picking a certain kind of men - men who were prone to hurt me." She believes she was unconsciously seeking out boyfriends who were a lot like Kimrey - older, smooth-talking men.

"It was like I was repeating this over and over again - almost like a death wish."

She started seeing a counselor six years ago. She talked some about Kimrey's abuse, but not in too much detail.

A couple of years ago, she read an article by a psychiatrist who said most molesters are repeat offenders who take many victims in their lifetimes. "It made me sick to my stomach. I thought: Is he still out there, doing it to other little girls?"

She didn't know what she could do. She thought that it had been too long ago for her to be able to press charges.

But a police officer she was dating told her there was no time limit on filing such charges.

One day last spring, she picked up the phone and called Rob Hagan, Botetourt County's commonwealth's attorney. He listened to her story and told her to call back if she was ready to pursue criminal charges.

She contacted another former church member who had also been molested by Kimrey. The other woman agree to come forward, too. Sarah called Hagan back.

She couldn't sleep some nights after the charges were filed. She worried that Kimrey, a convicted burglar, might break into her home and hurt her.

Then in October - almost 18 years to the day after Kimrey assaulted her - she faced him in court. At a preliminary hearing, she swore to God to tell the truth. Then she testified about what Kimrey had done.

Suddenly, whatever psychological power Kimrey had over her seemed to disappear.

Now Sarah is trying to get on with her life.

"I never lost my love of religion or my love of God. But I've been afraid of churches and ministers."

Once, a friend who was getting married asked her to help out at the wedding. "All I had to do was stand at the back of the church with the guest book - and I was hyperventilating the whole time. I was just praying the minister wouldn't come back there."

She recently found a church where the pastor doesn't come to the back to greet the worshipers. "All I have to do is sit down and enjoy the sermon."

But no matter how far she comes, she probably won't ever be able to forgive Kimrey.

"Sometimes, the anger really overcomes me. And I have to remember that God will deal with him in time - if he hasn't already. He'll get his. I think that's the only thing that keeps me going."



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