Growing up there was an elderly man in the ward who would always seek me out at church and grab my arm, and tell me I was beautiful. He’d consistently “bump” into me, and his hands would wander. When I was 14 I went to the church library to borrow a Book of Mormon, this man was there, serving as the librarian. He came up behind me and grabbed my butt with both hands and pressed up against me and whispered in my ear: “you’re pretty”. I told my parents and the Bishop but they brushed it off and said “oh he’s just a sweet old man, he’s a good man.” And that was the end of that. I wish I had spoken up more, but as a 14 year old girl I didn’t realize how serious this was. I hated going to church and was always fearful of this man. He recently passed away and many of my past ward members wrote tributes to the “ward grandpa” on social media, expressing how they all loved him and looked up to him and how he is in heaven now. It makes me sick when I think about it.