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For decades, a little-known Christian sect dealt with its abusive ministers and spiritual elders mostly in secret, avoiding prosecution and urging victims to forgive the predators among them.

Forgiveness, however, was far from a cure: abusers were often sent to live with other unsuspecting families, where they had easy access to new victims.

Now, a grassroots effort by survivors has revealed the depth of the scandal – documenting allegations against more than 900 abusers in 30 countries, with cases continuing to emerge – and thrust the anonymous cult into the public eye. The FBI also launched an investigation into this group, sometimes called “Two by Twos.”

The Associated Press interviewed more than a dozen current and former members, workers and experts, and reviewed letters, court documents and other documents supporting the allegations. Several sect leaders and ministers either declined interview requests or did not respond to messages.

Here are some takeaways from the AP reports.

The cult’s core doctrine places children at high risk

Child sexual abuse is a significant problem within many religious institutions: insurance company Advisen ranks child sexual abuse as the second most common insurance loss for religious organizations, after salary-related claims. But survivors say the principles of the Deux par Deux program put children at particularly high risk.

The sect believes that its volunteer ministers, called “workers,” should live among their followers and rely on them for food, shelter and other needs.

Many survivors told the AP they were mistreated by preachers back home. In some cases, the abuse was revealed and the offending worker was asked to leave the ministry. However, it often happens that regional leaders called “overseers” simply transfer the worker to a new region without notifying other members.

Former cult member Pam Walton uses photos from the cult’s annual conventions, member reports and other documents to track the movements of workers and overseers facing abuse allegations.

“I don’t think people understood the magnitude of the journey of these men and women,” Walton said.

One abusive supervisor, Dean Bruer, served in at least 22 states and territories and seven countries from his arrival at the department in 1976 until his death in 2022.

A culture of “mercy” allowed attackers

Former worker Jared Snyder says bringing up someone’s past sins is considered taboo because that person “has already been forgiven by God.” As a result, members and workers often spoke only euphemistically about the problems, Snyder said, and even major misdeeds were often downplayed.

“There’s an underlying fear of being judged as someone with a ‘bad spirit’ if you’re not merciful enough,” Snyder says.

Some cult leaders have warned against digging into allegations. A supervisor told Snyder, “The less you know, the better off you are,” he said.

Cult leaders sometimes ignored legal reporting requirements

Some U.S. states have laws that require spiritual leaders, teachers, and others in positions of authority to report allegations of child abuse to authorities. Letters and other documents show that some supervisors tried to circumvent these laws.

Ed Alexander, a regional superintendent in Arizona, wrote a letter to a child molester elder urging him to seek professional help. That way, Alexander claimed, the cult would not have to report the man’s crime and the counselor could take responsibility.

Alexander declined to comment.

Survivors often found themselves at an impasse in their quest for justice

When she was a teenager, Sheri Autrey didn’t feel ready to describe the intimate details of her abuse in front of a jury. Her parents therefore refused to subject her to criminal prosecution. When Autrey tried to press charges as an adult, it was too late: under California state law, too many years had passed since the crime.

Autrey tried to find a lawyer to sue the cult, but no one would take the case. Legal experts say the sect’s aversion to property leaves it without any apparent assets that could be used to pay a legal settlement.

Left without legal options, many survivors joined community efforts to support each other. One organization, Advocates for the Truth, created a confidential 24-hour hotline for survivors, investigated and tracked allegations, and connected victims with treatment resources and funding.

Facebook pages and online discussion forums also allowed survivors to compare their stories, discuss their faith and share suggestions for reform.

A grand jury began investigating the cult last year, and in February the FBI asked people with information to come forward. Agents have interviewed several survivors and cult leaders in recent months.

Change within the cult is slow – and limited

Some cult leaders have condemned the abuse and sought advice from consultants on how to better protect their members. Others have outright rejected recommended policies to prevent child abuse, or implemented scaled-down versions with fewer safeguards.

Yet the pressure doesn’t seem likely to ease any time soon. Former cult member and survivor Lisa Webb says standing up for other survivors has been her therapy.

“I’m not trying to take away your salvation or attack your faith, but how can we keep our children safe? You can respect faith, respect religion, but not be naive,” Webb said. “Just the fact that the conversation is happening now means we’ve already improved security. … There is a rallying behind the survivors.”