Victims of childhood sexual abuse often suffer in silence, sometimes for years. Unsure of what is happening to them, they don’t know who or even what to tell.

Their abusers are adults, authority figures, who warn them not to say anything.

Often, memories of abuse are repressed, until mental or emotional problems years later bring them back. By then, it may be too late to do much about it.

The silence allows the abusers to continue unchecked. It allows others to look the other way, to pretend it doesn’t happen.

That has been the experience of far too many childhood victims of clerical sex abuse in the Roman Catholic Church. Those who spoke up, who dared to tell, found that legal statutes of limitation said they were too late.

Three years ago, however, a Minnesota law opened a window of opportunity for victims of child abuse to file lawsuits against churches and organizations. Hundreds of lawsuits have since been filed, and more may be before the May 25 deadline. The lawsuits have allowed the victims to confront their attackers and to demand answers of the organizations they say covered up the abuse, protected the abusers and allowed them to continue abusing. It has allowed them to tell their stories, to be heard and believed, and to have an opportunity to see that the abuse they suffered will not happen to another generation.

The Journal has talked to three victims of abuse in the New Ulm Diocese who are willing to tell their story. This is the first.

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To Lori Stoltz, the Catholic Church was a place of peace, of sanctity, a place where healing and spiritual guidance could be found.

Her father was an Air Force career man, and her early childhood was spent moving from base to base around the world. After her parents separated around 1969, her mother returned the family to Willmar.

“That’s where we lived out our lives after that. Willmar became that place to stabilize and figure out what to do,” Stoltz said.

Part of that stabilization involved reconnecting with the Catholic Church, St. Mary’s in Willmar.

“We had always been a Catholic family. In fact, my father had studied to be a priest before entering the Air Force. I have two aunts, his sisters, who are nuns. We had always been taught to be very courteous and thoughtful. I loved the Catholic Church. We went to church every Sunday, and I made my first communion in Germany when we were stationed there. It was always something that was very comforting to me.”

But St. Mary’s was where Stoltz ran into Father David Roney.

“Father Roney would often wear a cloak or a cape, even when it was warmer or in broad daylight,” said Stoltz.

Often, Roney would allow children under the cape, and it was during those times that Roney began abusing Stoltz.

“He would just sort of guide your hands to things you didn’t understand. It was so, like, a hug became something more than a hug, which is very confusing for a child,” she said.

Stoltz believes that the absence of a father drew Roney to her family.

“Because our family was a single parent family – it was mom and four of us – I guess Father Roney felt sorry for us, sort of took us under his wing. He would come over to our house quite often and outwardly, people would see what a friendly guy, what a nice guy. This is what he would portray during those two years when he would come over. He would take me swimming, he would take my sister swimming, he would bring us gifts from Guatemala when he would go on his mission trips, he would be like that absent father.”

But while he was acting the father figure, Roney would continue to do, in the house, in the church, at the lake, “things that are confusing for a child, things I didn’t have words for.”

Stoltz said people ask why she didn’t speak out, didn’t recognize what was going on.

“Being raised a Catholic child, and a military child, we were taught not to speak up about certain things,” she said. The things Roney were doing were unknown to her so she didn’t know what to say or how to feel.

“How do you describe things where you don’t even know if they are normal or not?” she asked.

The abuse made her feel very uncomfortable, Stoltz said, “But being a child, you don’t quite know. You’re raised to respect authority, raised to be kind, raised not to tattle-tale, and there really aren’t laws for children. You don’t know who to talk to- it’s all very confusing and uncomfortable.”

She never mentioned the abuse to her mother.

“Number one, Father Roney would say not to mention it. He would say things like ‘You’re God’s chosen one, you are very special,’ that kind of thing. When a priest tells you not to say anything, and you are raised to respect priests, to respect adults, that’s confusing. And I really didn’t know who would believe me anyway, especially when I didn’t know what was normal and abnormal.”

Roney abused Stoltz from the time she was 11 until she was 13. Stoltz said she didn’t know at the time, but Father Roney was also abusing her sisters.

By the time she was 13, Stoltz began avoiding Roney whenever possible.

“I was finding work detasseling corn, doing other things to earn money, and finding ways where I didn’t have to go with Father Roney anywhere,” said Stoltz.

“I just tried not to be around. I would find someplace to go when he came over.”

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Her experiences with Roney have impacted her throughout her life.

“I became very anxious, depressed. I dealt with a lot of depression my whole life. I did not trust men at all, so I did not do well with dating. I just had no interest because I thought men just wanted one thing. I did not know there were good men versus bad. I wouldn’t know which to choose, I didn’t trust my own judgment.”

Stoltz said she had trouble trusting authority. She stopped going to church during the time Roney was there, and never really went back.

“I went through two marriages, two divorces. I really picked men who really weren’t good for me in my life. I just know that it’s been years and years of trying to figure out the cause and effect. It’s like you don’t know what the cause and effect is until you really have time to reflect on it as an adult.”

It took a long time for Stoltz to decide to do something about it.

“I know one of my sisters had written a letter to the church in the -90s, but I was in the middle of an abusive marriage, and wasn’t able to do anything like that. I couldn’t go through therapy like she was going through,” said Stoltz.

But after her divorce, Stoltz said she had heard about the Jeff Anderson law firm and what it was doing to advocate for victims of clerical abuse.

“All I really hoped to do was to have a voice. I heard of other people telling their stories and realized I wasn’t the only one this happened to, and that’s good to know,” said Stoltz. “I really thought that I was the only one. I hoped that by talking to Jeff or somehow this group of survivors that he helped that I could find healing. That’s all I really wanted, was to find healing and a voice and resolution in my life.”

In 2008 she contacted Anderson. “We did try to approach the church with a suit, but at that time they had the statute of limitations, so they refused to even listen. It wasn’t until the Child Victims Act came out later that they decided they had to do something. It was like the statute of limitations hid pedophiles.

Anderson had asked Stoltz to help gain passage of the Child Victims Act, which created a window of opportunity for victims of child sex abuse to file suit year later.

“He asked if I could testify at the Capitol, but I told him I wasn’t ready to do that, but I could write letters to legislators and tell them my story, and I did.”

Stoltz’s lawsuit against the Diocese of New Ulm was recently settled. As part of the settlement, the Diocese agreed to release the list of 16 priests who it said had been credibly accused of sexual abuse of children.

“Now, because of the Child Victim Act they realize they can’t hide. There’s only change with wisdom and acknowledgement. One of my demands in my lawsuit, number one, was to have Father Roney acknowledged as a pedophile, and to have all of his accolades and awards stripped, because I was being told all the time about what a nice man he was and look at all the good things he did. And I said, ‘Despite all he’s a pedophile. Let’s call him a pedophile. And they did that. And the other thing I demanded – they were the last diocese to release any names. They were the last to drag their feet. It was only at this last press conference where they did that. This is really huge. Everyone else, if you’re a pedophile you are put on a list. That’s true for us in society. If we do something that we’re put on a list. Why not the church?”

In the past, Stoltz said priests like Father Roney were allowed to continue their predatory ways. Another victim, Kim Schmit, whom Stoltz got to know as a teen, told her that Roney had been reported by her family two years before Stoltz’s abuse began. They had been assured he would be dealt with. He was sent away for counseling, apparently, and then returned to St. Mary’s in Willmar, where he served until 1980.

Stoltz said the realization that she was not alone and that other victims had been harmed by the church’s inaction angered her. She was angry the church would allow this to happen in a place which was supposed to be a sacred place of healing and spiritual guidance.

Stoltz said she doesn’t go to church, but she is still a believer, despite all that happened.

“I still pray to Mary, I still love God and Jesus. I’m a very spiritual person, a good person. I know not all priests are bad, so it’s really not about vengeance against the whole Catholic Church. It’s wanting to, hopefully, help future generations so they can heal, the Church can heal. Maybe this can be behind us all.”

She is hopeful for the future of the church and the diocese.

“I was pleased, when I met in November with the bishop to resolve my case, I met with the new bishop of New Ulm, Bishop LeVoir, and he was a very sweet man. I was crying that day, and I felt he was very sincere and very kind in his apology to me. And I also have hope because of Pope Francis. If we begin to have more credible people who want change and are ethical, it’s a start. I don’t think we can change everything overnight, but I think one person at a time, it’s helpful.”

Pope Francis focused on the issue of clerical abuse in his visit to the U.S., and apologized, said Stoltz.

“I know sometimes apologies can be hollow, but I think if there is acknowledgement that’s a step in the right direction, because none of us can heal if we don’t acknowledge what we’ve done is wrong.

“I see this as a historic time,” said Stoltz. “As I told Jeff in November and December, after meeting with Bishop LeVoir and other members of the Diocese, I don’t think that this could have happened at any other time. I never expected in my lifetime to see resolution, to be heard. So to me that’s pretty special. I think there’s sort of an awakening at this period in history, where people want change and would like to believe there’s something good in the world. So I think this is the time for the Catholic Church to heal itself as well. It’s not just healing for the victims, but for the church and the future generations of children.”

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Editor’s Note: This is the first in a series of articles The Journal is publishing on the issue of sexual abuse of children by priests in the New Ulm Diocese. Today’s article tells the story of Lori Stoltz, who was abused as a child in Willmar by Fr. David Roney.

On Sunday, The Journal will share the story of Kim Schmit, who was also abused by Roney.