Restoration Starts With an Apology

“Lone empathy tree in green meadow.”

Three years ago, Chesapeake Church sued me for over a million dollars. I didn’t actually do the math – there was a numerical figure attached to each claim made against me – but it was a hefty chunk of change.

How did I end up getting sued by a church in another state?

One early morning in April of 2022, I launched this blog and then went into surgery to have a melanoma and a lymph node removed from my face and neck.  A biopsy had confirmed that the mole above my eye was not a beauty mark but a malignant tumor taking over my face like Napoleon took over Europe. Based on its depth, there was a chance it had spread.  As a doctor injected ink into my bloodstream so they could identify the sentinel node they were about to remove, people were discussing my initial blog posts in a Prince Frederick supermarket.  By the time I woke up from surgery, the website had been visited thousands of times.

In the weeks leading up to the surgery, I spent a lot of time confronting my mortality, going over the worst-case scenario situation (my tragic death!) and how my demise would, in particular, affect my daughter, who was born with a genetic disorder and has some disabilities. Raising her has taught me the importance of caring for “the lesser of these.” 

Parents of children with disabilities think and plan for the future differently than others. The constant ruminating and planning and worrying could make one bitter and resentful. But you can avoid bitterness by allowing your circumstances to grow your character. Empathy that finds root in challenging circumstances can become something tall and strong, something like a tree with branches and roots that are difficult to upend. An empathy tree, if you will. I think I’m an empathy tree. I hope I’m an empathy tree.

Some argue empathy is a weakness.  But I’ve found that empathy has given me things to fight for.  Having empathy means having little tolerance for wolves among sheep. I have no patience for those who exploit those who will one day inherit the earth.

Empathy, a strong sense of justice, and the knowledge of one’s impending doom is a dangerous cocktail. It made me feel untouchable. When I published that first blog post, I felt like Batman. Batman perched heroically on an empathy tree.

But when I woke, I learned the cancer had not spread. Which, of course, was a relief. But when the haze of the anesthesia lifted, I faced reality. I was not Batman. I wasn’t even an empathy fern. I was a scared walnut.

In April, after a cautious young man served me on my front lawn, I consciously decided to double down on my resolve for justice, truth, and all those other DC Comics virtues, in spite of my fear and uncertainty.

“I’m going to win this,” I yelled as the young server returned to his rusty Honda Civic.

He turned and smiled at me. “I’m sure you will,” he said.

(Any day a process server is not cursed out is a good day for that process server.)

After that, there were six months of sleepless nights and worry, days where I was knee deep in the tricky and ever-evolving subject of defamation law.  (I now know more about that category of Constitutional Law than the average bear.) During that time, I received death threats and nasty messages on my phone. Cryptic emails and letters in the mail. Anonymous warnings from concerned onlookers, one who said Robert Hahn was coming for me, and not just in court.

It was unsettling.

But knowledge is power, and I had prepared for the POSSIBILITY of being taken to court. I checked to make sure my umbrella insurance coverage included being sued for defamation, and I studied the Society of Journalists Code of Ethics. As I prepared my defense, the more I read, pored over cases, annotated my notes, and gathered evidence, the more my resolve grew. Because in a defamation suit (in this case, libel), the burden is on the plaintiff to prove they were defamed.

To win a defamation case, the plaintiff must prove four things:

1. a false statement purporting to be fact.  (This is the big one. You can’t just lie about things or spread rumors all willy-nilly.)

2. a publication or communication of that statement to a third person.

3. fault amounting to at least negligence; and

4. damages, or some harm caused to the reputation of the person or entity who is the subject of the statement.

Free speech law is a murky business. Do bloggers have the same First Amendment rights as journalists at Time Magazine? What constitutes a public figure? Do shield laws cover bloggers?

Is Time Magazine still being published?

(In the complaint against me, the attorney referred to me as a “journalist.” In quotations marks. This, more than anything else, wounded me. What if someone from the Atlantic read the complaint against me? Would think less of me, not because I’d been sued, but because an attorney referred to me as a “journalist?” But I digress.)

I adhered to the Society of Journalists Code of Ethics to the best of my ability. The Code of Ethics is not law, but journalists take it seriously. Blatantly disregarding the code of ethics will get you fired from the New York Times. (From BuzzFeed, maybe not so much.)

One bullet point among the SJP Code reads like a bible verse:

“Be vigilant and courageous about holding those with power accountable. Give voice to the voiceless.” SJP Code of Ethics

“Open your mouth for the mute, for the rights of all who are destitute. Open your mouth, judge righteously, defend the rights of the poor and needy.” Proverbs 31:8-9

In those months, my intentions were not always pure. I was angry. I didn’t do everything perfectly. And it’s true; I’m no New York Times “journalist.” But I knew that prevailing all came down to one thing: that first point of proof. And I knew that what I wrote was not defamatory because it was true.

Dreams of having my day in court died when Chesapeake and its “attorneys” dropped the case against me and my two co-defendants. Hahn unwillingly retired after giving his last sermon on the church’s dark stage, a petulant speech that ended with a cringy mic drop. (He wasn’t apologizing for NOTHING.)

Hahn wasn’t gone, though. He continued to run his myriad of nonprofits.

The following January, the church put together a committee to rewrite the Church constitution, which desperately needed updating. The committee was comprised of well-intentioned individuals who were desperate to save the church and recognized the need for change. But they were unsuccessful. The Elders rejected nearly every suggested amendment the committee brought to them, unwilling to divest themselves of any of the power granted to them by the Constitution. Ultimately, the committee simply gave up, and each of its members left the church. The Constitution remains much the same, though the leadership amended it to be in accordance with Maryland State Laws and the church’s Articles of Incorporation.

The plot thickened when someone caught Hahn in yet another compromising situation with a woman, and the church finally gave him the boot. He countered by suing the church, was paid off, and then slinked off to Virginia where he works as a higher up in the administration of a nursing home. (Dear God, HOW DID THAT HAPPEN? Doesn’t anyone check references anymore?)

Life went on. I paid the yearly domain fee for SurvivorsOfChesapeakeChurch.com. There were weeks I didn’t think about Chesapeake Church at all. I thought of my sister often, but not in relation to the lawsuit. And that was a blessing.

Messages from those affected by the Chesapeake Church horror show dwindled, but still trickled in occasionally. “I just wanted to tell someone,” one message said. “I’ve followed this blog from the beginning but never reached out. Here’s what happened to me …” read another.

I am wholly incapable of helping them – these survivors of Chesapeake Church. Things feel unfinished. The church continued to block me from all their social media and to remove any negative comments on their Facebook page. The Elders carried on with business as usual, which consisted of sweeping things under the rug and treating anyone who spoke about what happened to them with contempt.

The last story, from a woman who attended the church for several years, came in just two weeks ago. She no longer believes in church. She isn’t sure if she believes in God.

This week, a follower notified me of a “Restoration Conference” that will take place this weekend at Chesapeake Church. I investigated and tracked down the speaker’s email. (It may be an outdated email.) I sent him a message but haven’t heard back and don’t expect to. I wrote the email quickly this afternoon during my lunch break. It’s not my best piece of writing, but I think it gets the point across. Here it is.

Dr. Quick,

I understand you are conducting a seminar at Chesapeake Church this weekend.

I am the author of the Survivors of Chesapeake blog. I encourage you to visit it before you go to Chesapeake.

Three years ago this month, Chesapeake Church sued me for over 1 million dollars. Though the campaign against me and my fellow "whistleblowers" was spearheaded and directed by former Pastor Robert Hahn, the elders backed him up. They were complicit in taking two former congregants, one a former pastor at Chesapeake Church, and one my sister, who had already been wronged by the church, to court.

In a libel case, the plaintiff must prove they were defamed. After six months of litigation and an unsuccessful attempt at mediation, Chesapeake Church dropped the case against me and my two co-defendants. I provided them with meticulous details of interviews, complaints, witness interviews, and other materials proving that all I wrote was true.

Being sued was one of the most stressful events of my life. However, exposing Robert Hahn for what he is has helped lead to his eventual removal from the church. (He was encouraged to retire early and then terminated when he was caught in yet another affair.)

Three years later, I still get messages from people sharing their stories. Robert Hahn lied, stole, blackmailed people, used his position as leader of a nonprofit to procure himself a vacation home in the Caribbean, had multiple affairs, covered up a severe case of domestic abuse, sexually harassed women, wrongfully evicted a single mother of two from her home, drank to excess on the church campus, and threatened my sister's life.

There's more. Other stories I didn't get a chance to tell. Stories people didn't want me to tell.

And the elders at Chesapeake allowed this to go on FOR DECADES.

Yet, they have not once taken responsibility for what they allowed to happen under their leadership.

There has been significant turnover at Chesapeake Church, but much of the leadership remains the same. Steve Bertolaccini, Bill Collette, Jon Miller, and Billy Walsh are still on the elder board. Others resigned or "retired" to avoid repercussions. 

Though one elder reached out to my sister and me to "have a discussion," not one leadership member has apologized for how the church treated her and her children.

I am all for restoration for the many innocent congregants who attended and still attend Chesapeake Church. But the elders should have stepped down immediately after they dropped the lawsuit. They should have repented publicly. They should be forgiven, but they should not lead a church—the chaos they caused and allowed decimated lives.

I'm proud of what my blog accomplished. It removed at least one hungry wolf from among the sheep.

But Hahn was allowed autocratic rule for decades. The trauma runs deep among families who attended that church. More trauma than a weekend seminar and a retreat could ever begin to repair.

The first step toward restoration is not holding a retreat. It is the leadership admitting they were wrong and working toward ending a long cycle of cover-ups and excuses. It is an apology. It is the establishment of a new set of leaders. Because how can healing begin when the perpetrators are still calling the shots and carefully directing the narrative?

Without repentance, it's all a carefully orchestrated show. And putting on a great show is the one thing Chesapeake Church excels at.

Good luck this weekend.

Respectfully,

Holly Jennings