Trigger warning: this story discusses themes of sexual misconduct and intimidation in the workplace that may be triggering for some individuals.

Seven months ago, I reopened a SafeSport case against my former employer for sexual harassment, non-consensual intercourse within a relationship defined by a power imbalance, and extortion. (You can read why here.) 

On April 4, 2025, my abuser was placed on the SafeSport temporary suspension list while the Center conducted its investigation. SafeSport interviewed multiple individuals, including his known accomplice. In August, they sent me the initial 300+ pages of interview transcripts for review.  There were no transcripts from an interview with my abuser, and both his accomplice and that man’s wife denied even knowing me, despite years of social interactions and photos of us together. Even more absurd, he claimed he’s not close to my abuser, despite supporting him throughout his entire career, dating as far back as when he was a junior.

I had until October 5 to submit my reply and response, so my lawyer and I were actively gathering additional evidence and witnesses to support my case. I spent my most recent day off sending over documents, photographs and videos.

And then, suddenly, it was over.

On the afternoon of October 2nd, just three days before our response was due, I received a call from my lawyer saying that SafeSport had already made its decision: time served, followed by a two-year probationary period and a no-contact directive. My abuser was fully released and has now already returned to sport.

To say I was shocked would be a total understatement. But it was more than just shock. It was immense disappointment in the very institution that was meant to protect me, to protect victims, to protect the sport that I love dearly—to protect US. 

Immediately after the call, I checked the USEF sanction list and saw that my abuser’s suspension was listed as ending on October 2nd, the very same day. That moment sent chills down my spine.

In SafeSport’s informal resolution my abuser admitted, in a signed affidavit, to what he did to me: 

  • He admitted to sexual harassment in the workplace
  • He admitted to requesting nude photographs from me
  • He admitted to engaging in non-consensual intercourse within a relationship defined by a power imbalance
  • He admitted to abuse of process and communicating with me despite the no-contact order
  • He admitted to paying me $10,000 to drop the original SafeSport case

Why would SafeSport return this man to sport with nothing more than a slap on the wrist? Why are SafeSport and USEF allowing this to happen? 

SafeSport didn’t consult with me before coming to their decision; they certainly don’t seem to care about how it affects me. They offered zero explanation and zero support. I have yet to hear from anyone at USEF. 

I couldn’t help but wonder if the decision had anything to do with the lawsuit my abuser filed against SafeSport and USEF. What kind of deal had been worked out behind the scenes? The very next day, October 3, he voluntarily dismissed his lawsuit. So, I guess that answers that.

As if five or six months is an appropriate sanction for someone who admitted to all of that. There are individuals on the SafeSport list who have been accused of far less and received significantly longer suspensions. 

I guess SafeSport thought they could throw in probation and the so-called no-contact order for good measure. The longstanding no-contact order that has been anything but effective. My last interview with SafeSport was to report that his accomplice had violated the directive, just like they both did the first time. A clear attempt at intimidation. A clear abuse of process. But it didn’t matter. 

SafeSport’s written decision says “mitigating factors” were considered, including that my abuser “took responsibility.” But how exactly did he take responsibility? He didn’t even participate in the interview process. He simply signed a document that I’m not even allowed to share without violating SafeSport’s confidentiality rules.

Less than six months is a joke and it tells victims that what happened to them or what could happen to them, doesn’t matter. There are no protections for them. None.  

That doesn’t feel like or even look like accountability. It looks like corruption. 

***

The first time I came forward with my SafeSport case, I gave up. I didn’t think anyone would believe me, and I feared that my abuser would find a way to manipulate the system, drag it out, and make my life unbearable.

And that’s exactly what happened.

Every time I’ve had to retell my story or dig up more evidence, it’s forced me to relive the experiences. Reading the 300+ page SafeSport document was overwhelming, and they didn’t even allow me to finish the review process.

I reopened this SafeSport case to prevent what happened to me from happening to other people, and if anything, SafeSport has only emboldened my abuser and his accomplice with their decision.

I worry what this precedent now means for other victims. 

I worry for other young women. I pray that when they find their voice and speak up, they will not be ignored or treated like they don’t matter because their abuser is wealthy or assumes more power. I pray they find a safe space to share their story and to demand accountability. 

I worry for the other women dealing with similar situations and staying silent because they’ve seen what’s happened to me. I stress about the amount of corruption and abuse, whether it be verbal, sexual, or physical, that continually pervades this industry, and the organizations meant to prevent it. 

It sickens me really. 

***

When I went on record with my original article, so many people reached out, saying they never spoke up about their own experiences, some from 20 years ago. They recognized the same patterns, the same feelings, and even the same people. They told me, “I know exactly who you’re talking about because he did that to me too, and I felt like he was too powerful. I couldn’t stand up to him. You’re so brave.” 

But the truth is, it shouldn’t take bravery to speak up; it should be normal. We’re conditioned to fear standing up to those in power because they’ll try to silence us, and that’s exactly what happens.

When I dropped the case the first time, my abuser spread lies that I was crazy and made everything up. Now, I’m hearing people say, “It’s over, he won.” And, “She just did it for the money.” 

I try not to care about what others are so emboldened to share, but it’s hard in an industry where people are quick to turn on you, even if it means enabling the powerful and the abusive.  

***

One misconception people often have about me coming forward is that this somehow benefits me. It doesn’t. It hasn’t helped my career or my mental health. In many ways, it’s made my life much harder. 

Yes, I’m standing up for myself. Yes, I hope my story prevents this from happening to someone else. But the truth is, it would have been easier to stay silent. This process has been exhausting, painful, and at times isolating.

But I won’t be silenced. I will continue to speak up and support what is good about this industry and call out what needs to change. 

I wouldn’t have made it through this without the incredible support system I have now. They’ve surrounded me, protected me, and helped me find the resources I needed. Without them, I honestly don’t know where I’d be.

I can’t change what happened and I won’t pretend it didn’t.

October 2nd marked the end of my abuser’s suspension, but for me, this isn’t over. I’m still here, and I’m not giving up.

If you have a reasonable suspicion of sexual misconduct, make a report electronically to the U.S. Center for SafeSport or call (720) 531-0340.

Need to talk? The specialized counselors at the Athlete Helpline provide crisis intervention, emotional support, connection to resources and reporting guidance Monday through Friday, 12pm to 8pm Pacific Time. Call or text 1-888-279-1026.

*All claims in this story, including those relating to the SafeSport informal resolution, have been independently verified by Ms. Paetsch’s lawyer, Russ Prince.