Warning: This post discusses childhood sexual trauma and may result in triggering other survivors of childhood sexual trauma. Please consult a local organization such as STAR (Anchorage Crisis Line: (907) 276-7273/Statewide Crisis Line: (800) 478-8999 ) or a personal counselor, or at least an understanding friend, if this blog post does so.

I recently found the man who had molested me when I was almost 9.  I decided to confront him. Such an easy, sparse sentence to write, but at age 44, it wasn’t that easy. It took me years to be able to do this.

First, I found that I needed to get over the fear that kept me the same meek little girl I had been, that kept me from thinking I was deserving of good things, that had me eating too little, or drinking too much, or staying in relationships that weren’t really…relationships.

Second was the anger. For a number of years, I couldn’t have knives in my home (we made it a joke but there was truth in it) due to my proclivity of throwing them when I was angry. And I was angry a lot. I would drink or use whatever in order to dim the anger, drown out the hate I held onto tightly. Yes, the anger took much longer. Even I knew I wouldn’t be making the best decision and having a positive outcome if I was still harboring that seething anger.

Yes. I could have found him years ago. I half-heartedly did find a PO Box in the Spenard area of Anchorage, Alaska that his mail was sent to.

It wasn’t the right time.

I just had a baby, a darling girl. I dealt with post-partum depression by seeing a counselor, the same counselor that had assisted me in my journey to confront my dad that had never happened due to his death. Luckily I mentioned to my counselor what was going on in my head. I can honestly say in my first hundred versions back then “confronting” wasn’t apart of my plan. Telling my counselor the truth saved me from acting out and possibly facing years in prison.

I knew my dad felt horrible and what he did ate away at him. We had gotten close through the years and he was my biggest cheerleader. The one hole in our fractured relationship was on course to be mended when he died from heroin overdose. I had been fueled by more anger, fear and regret not following through and confronting my dad and was left with a person who had escaped culpability for all these years.

It was only once. When it had happened that morning and I was able to escape his bedroom I told my mom and her boyfriend, Joe, both in the very next room.

Maybe they were too hungover, regardless, they didn’t want to be bothered by a scared seven-year-old describing something even she wasn’t sure how to form the words for. So no one said or did anything. Because of that, I had thought the world didn’t care about little girls and kept inside myself more and more. Not even a year before this happened, something similar had happened between me and my dad, who I barely knew. It seemed as if some visible brokenness appeared that other predators could easily spot, like a landing beacon.

As I grew older, I pushed the memories further back and as more time went by, my walls grew thicker.

Eventually, I ended up in States custody. I ran away. I drank. More things happened. I grew up.

It was normal now in my world. Things happened and not much, if anything, was ever done. I saw this in my life and in the other kids around me. Foster homes. Group homes. Juvenile detention centers.

Still, I never forgot. Life went on and I stopped looking for fulfillment with alcohol. I went to counseling. I wrote things on pieces of paper and burnt them or tied them to balloons. I put a lot of time and effort into letting go, forgiving myself, learning ways to talk to myself in order to not be a victim. Yet there was a voice in me that said the final chapter would be confronting the one person I knew I could.

My dad had passed years before, at the time I was working on getting the balls to talk to him about things he had done. I was in counseling and had done so much work to talk to him, forgive him, and move on. Then he took a hot shot and I was unable to. Besides dealing with his untimely death, funeral and burial costs, I had to deal with the resentment that came along with doing all that inner work and the selfishness of him dying before we could talk. I have visited his grave a few times throughout the years and I believe we have both found our peace. But Maurice had still been in the back of my mind.


You don’t hear that name much anymore do you? The countless times I had sought him out, the searches had come up empty, or at the most, sparse. I knew that the emotional work I did wouldn’t disappear and that when it would be time, I would be strong enough to go through with it.

So every few years I would google his name.

Maurice Hamby.

And then one day there was this article, with his picture. And it listed his place of employment in the article. He was a manager, right here in Anchorage.
Right by where I paid my rent. Across town, where I never went.

Having found him finally I knew I needed to take some time and make sure I still wanted to confront him and check my expectations on the outcome. If I still felt strong enough and that it was important enough I would follow through. No rush.

It took me another month to walk into that building and confront him. My expectations were to walk out with my head held up high and self-esteem intact. I also decided I would record it. I have listened to the recording a few times, and each time I am brought back to the shaky feeling I had as I walked through that door, phone in my purse, recording, not knowing who I would find and not having any idea of how the conversation would go.

I stopped in to see if he was there working just after Halloween 2018. I parked and readied my phone to record. I had to ground myself before I walked in, as I knew if I went in on auto-pilot I could possibly react in anger rather than be proactive and keep myself safe. I had no idea what Maurice looked like, except for the picture in the article. A man I barely knew for a brief moment decades ago. I remembered shaggy blonde hair. Long fingernails. A sneering smile.

I walked in, casually looking around. It was drab, the shelves barely stocked, with nonsequential knickknacks everywhere. A man, shorter than I, appeared from behind the counter, pulling closed a heavy sheet separating the front from the back as he greeted me.

After some chit chat, mainly to decipher I had the right person, I calmly asked if he remembered molesting me. He was taken aback. He started getting agitated and was visibly shaken. He stopped making eye contact.

“I don’t even know your name,” he had said.

As I stood there while Maurice denied everything it brought me to the realization of the biggest fear I had in confronting my dad.  The full denial. Which is what Maurice did. In his doing so, I was able to remove the one obstacle I had in my way, regardless of how much counseling I’ve had throughout the years.

That was the realization that I didn’t need an apology in order to complete this confrontation. I just needed to say: I remembered. You were wrong. With Maurice saying that it wasn’t true doesn’t excuse what was done. All I needed to do was say what I had to say: Here I am before you. And I remember. That’s what freed me. I walked out with my head held high and my self-esteem intact.

I was able to get the closure I was seeking from confronting Maurice. I had nothing riding on him apologizing or not apologizing. I knew regardless of what he said or did the inner work was always mine. I’ve made horrible choices in my life, based on what I wanted, out of selfish motives. But I knew this was something I owed the shy, quiet child hurt those many years before.

I think about other children that have been molested by people that were never held accountable, and how their predators probably didn’t remember their names either. And I wonder how we are able to continue in life, trusting, having relationships, going on with life, raising children, having jobs and bills and family problems. I wonder if others ever got a chance to confront their childhood predator that otherwise had no consequences. If they even wanted to. I don’t casually recommend confronting your molester. I would tell anyone to seek outside counseling before embarking. A friend recommended that I bring support. I didn’t believe I would be able to have to conversation I had if I had someone else with me, so I chose not to.

The recording of the whole interaction is posted below. If I had spent more time trying to figure it out, I am sure I could have transcribed it from some app out there. I wasn’t about to transcribe it myself.  I may have dealt with this emotionally but I know when to tap out. I’m not a glutton for punishment.

I hope that anyone who has been hurt and feels lost remembers they have a voice. I’m grateful I found mine. I share this in case anyone else is out there wondering if it’s okay to confront what has us wounded. It is if you need it to be.




11 responses to “Confronting my child molester”

  1. Mark Kent Avatar
    Mark Kent

    very very well done talking about sexual abuse.people never see the every day effects. most peoples views are very Snotty Nosed there views/judgements .i was abused as a child .i have m.e .bladder/bowel problems because i was abused
    research is very rare.yet it is so effecting .my story of abuse is in a Authors book
    i do a blog,http;//mark-kent.webs.com

    Liked by 1 person

  2. amberbattsblog Avatar

    Thank you Mark. I’ll have to check out your blog someone soon. 💗


  3. Aimee Avatar

    I just ran across your article after doing a google search for “how to confront a child molester”. I didn’t want to type in MY child molester.. which I thought was what I needed to type in the search bar to find something close to what I needed. Your article came up second in the search return. And from the first few sentences I feel like I could have written this.. except I haven’t confronted mine.
    I guess I’m rambling because I really just want to say THANK YOU SO MUCH. The end of your blog where you mention that you didn’t need an apology- just for him to know that you know and that he was wrong”- that punched me in the gut. I needed to read that because I’ve been sick wondering how I will handle the denial. I don’t know if you wrote this to mend yourself, or if you wrote it to empower, or what your reason is but I’ve bookmarked it and will read it again. Thank you for being so brave.


    1. amberbattsblog Avatar

      Wow thank you for commenting! I did it to empower myself and put it out there in hopes that maybe someone else could find it helpful whether or not they decided to confront their molester. It has been a long journey, as I am sure you know. Keep doing what you need to do to be whole, happy and strong. Have a great day…


    2. Broken Little Girl Avatar
      Broken Little Girl

      I’m 52 and most definitely need to see a Therapist. At age 5-6 I was a victim to my MONSTER who does not deserve the title father his title to me is MONSTER. I have been harboring my feelings this long not anymore. I am so angry I want to shoot him in the head! Who rapes an innocent 5-6 year old girl. And he molested my younger sister but she does not remember much but enough that she knows she was molested. I tried to be that good girl to him all these years but something stopped me from seeing him for the last 17 years. I will NOT go to his funeral when the day comes and I never want to see him again!!! I’m a good Christian person who always forgives and the person who is kind to all people and yes I am giver but the DEEP RAGE inside me will never forgive this MONSTER! They say if you forgive you can move on but you will never forget, well I cannot forgive a MONSTER! He took so much away from me and now I understand my past behavior and relationships with men. Not good. But I am a Survivor and I will do my best to live life to my fullest potential. The pain will always be there. I am not ashamed or embarrassed, this was not my fault. And that MONSTER is not mentally sane in my mind. And his third wife knowing his background and what happened to me still stays with him and told me to never contact her again when I confronted her by email and Facebook messenger and I told what he did to me and others. MONSTER was a teacher and coached little girls soccer teams. He was caught numerous times but he just transferred to other schools and still coached girls soccer teams. Back then we did not have laws or protection like we do now. My question is should I email him in anger and use every bad word in the book or just leave it alone? Still deciding… Signed, Broken little girl inside at age 52.


  4. Eugenia Dopps Avatar
    Eugenia Dopps

    Every word that Aimee said in her comment above is exactly what I did!! And how I came upon you story..I thought for a second wow this girl is me but not me..I don’t know if that makes sense to you..Anyways I want to say Thank you for your Bravery and your story..It will forever be with me and you have giving me the power to move forward..I wish you the happiness you deserve. THANK YOU EUGENIA


  5. Lindsey Avatar

    Found your blog because I’m a 46 year old woman who recently found the man who molested me when I was 9. He has no record, unless you count bankruptcy possibly for all the people he had to pay off.. He lives in Grand Junction Colorado.

    Searched for years on the internet to see if he was a convicted sex offender or if he had a Facebook. Ran into his step-mother’s obituary. My therapist told me to look into pressing charges, despite the time that has passed. Police took my report, and determined in 1991 the law was changed to cover crimes that happened in 1984 or afterwards.

    Detective got back to me and said I was SOL because it happened in 1983. His 12 year old sister was a witness, a co-conspirator, and a victim herself. My younger brothers can recall when he barricaded the door with my dresser; that was so he could play truth or dare and get naked with me and his sister.

    I cannot remember my 5th grade teacher’s name or even any classmate, but I never forgot Brian and Patti Bostwick (now Caba). There is a chapter in a book i wrote in 2013 called “Brian.” I don’t think I ever expected to find him, and didn’t know how I would feel finding him without any sort of record and that he is in fact a grandfather. I only found this out from looking at family member’s social media; he doesn’t seem to want to be found easily.

    I forked out $29 for a month of Instantcheckmate so i could learn everything I could about the family, to see what I was up against when I thought I could press charges. I have phone numbers and addresses and don’t know how to even begin without “making him a victim.” I could call him, or his ex-wife. I could call godamned Patti. I want to go to the town where he lives, find all the popular bars and write what he did on the bathroom walls. I don’t know what to do, but thank you for telling your story.


    1. Jennifer Avatar

      I recently confronted my abuser after 45 years. I was 6 or 7 and he was our babysitter. It didn’t matter to me if he admitted to it or apologized. The idea of letting him know, I knew what he did to me was all I wanted to accomplish. Confronting him was the best decision and THE most empowering thing I have ever done. If I can help you in any way, please reach out to me.
      Jennifer H -Los Angeles, CA


  6.  Avatar

    most men or women who engage in this type of tortious behavior never want to admit they did a wrongful act? really sad.


  7. Anonymous Avatar

    Thank you. Peace and love.


  8. Ray Avatar

    Thank you for this article


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